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In the track "Miss America", audiences are placed in a hotel room close to JFK airfield, where Jennifer Walton receives the heartbreaking news of her father's illness diagnosis. This UK-raised artist was touring the US on her initial visit, drumming with group Kero Kero Bonito, and suddenly sadness takes over, coloring everything with melancholy. Faltering piano and hushed orchestration underscore gothic reports emanating from the tour van: "Cattle farm and broke down shack / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."

Walton's soft singing are delivered with a flat style, yet this album's tension stems from the sharp writing—mixing stories, folksy sayings, and blunt personal notes—along with surprising maximalism. Not many songs this year showcase more potent novelistic style than "Shelly", a piece that describes the death of an animal and spirals toward a fuel-soaked confrontation, reminiscent of written pieces illuminated by flickers of distorted cello. Tense, subdued sections featuring echoing, plucked strings transition into expansive refrains, with her vocals electronically altered to become a presence all-knowing and menacing.

Listeners might previously be familiar with Walton as a music creator, disc jockey, and contributor in groups like Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns draw on this varied background. The first track "Sometimes" bursts in fanfare, like a string band taken unawares, while "Born Again Backwards" drastically ups the tempo via an intense, beautiful, looping percussion. Dense walls of sound, expertly produced by a longtime partner, feel both rough and spiritual, while her morbid, magical thinking culminate on standout "Lambs", which briefly becomes a twirling dance. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," Walton bargains, with heart-aching dark comedy.