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In the song "Miss America", audiences are placed in a hotel room close to JFK airport, as Jennifer Walton learns a heartbreaking news that her dad has illness diagnosis. The Sunderland-born artist had been traveling the US for the first time, drumming with group Kero Kero Bonito, when abruptly grief casts a shadow, coloring all with melancholy. Unsteady keys and hushed orchestration underscore dark reports emanating from the road: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."

Her gentle vocals come across with a deadpan style, while this record's tension arises from the keen penmanship—mixing fiction, folksy sayings, and direct personal notes—coupled with unexpected maximalism. Not many songs this year possess more potent storytelling style compared to "Shelly", a piece that depicts the death of a deer and spirals into a petrol-laden reckoning, evoking literary pieces illuminated by flickers of distorted strings. Anxious, subdued sections with resonating, strummed strings move to expansive refrains, with her vocals electronically altered to become a presence omniscient and sinister.

Listeners might previously know Walton as an electronic producer, disc jockey, and contributor to bands like Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns reflect her diverse background. The opener "Sometimes" erupts with flourish, as if an ensemble caught by surprise, whereas "Born Again Backwards" drastically increases the BPM with an intense, stunning, repeating percussion. Dense layers of audio, expertly produced with a long-term partner, feel both gnarly and ethereal, and Walton's dark, magical thoughts peak on standout "Lambs", a song that momentarily becomes a swirling jig. "May your life never end in death," she bargains, with heart-aching gallows humor.