Jennifer Walton's First Album "Daughters" Delves Into Sorrow and Elegance
Within the track "Miss America", audiences find themselves inside a lodging close to JFK airport, as Jennifer Walton receives the devastating update of her father's cancer diagnosis. The Sunderland-born performer had been touring the US on her initial visit, drumming alongside group Kero Kero Bonito, when suddenly grief takes over, tinging all in grey. Unsteady piano and soft orchestration underscore gothic reports from the road: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."
Her gentle singing come across with a flat manner, yet the album's tension arises from her keen writing—mixing stories, folksy sayings, and blunt diary entries—coupled with unexpected rich textures. Not many songs this year showcase more potent storytelling style compared to "Shelly", a piece that depicts the killing of an animal and descends toward a fuel-soaked reckoning, evoking literary works lit by flickers of distorted cello. Tense, subdued verses with echoing, strummed guitar transition into grand choruses, with her vocals electronically altered to become something omniscient and sinister.
Audiences might previously know the artist as an electronic producer, DJ, and contributor to bands such as Caroline. Daughters' musical twists reflect her diverse background. The opener "Sometimes" bursts with flourish, like a string band taken unawares, while "Born Again Backwards" drastically increases the tempo with an intense, stunning, repeating percussion. Dense layers of audio, expertly mixed by a longtime collaborator, seem both gnarly and spiritual, while Walton's dark, enchanted thoughts culminate in highlight "Lambs", which briefly transforms into a twirling jig. "May your life never end in death," she bargains, with heart-aching gallows humor.