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Within the track "Miss America", audiences find themselves in a hotel room close to JFK airfield, where the musician learns a devastating update of her father's illness diagnosis. This UK-raised artist had been traveling the US on her initial visit, playing alongside indie band Kero Kero Bonito, when suddenly sadness takes over, coloring everything with melancholy. Unsteady keys and hushed orchestration underscore gothic dispatches emanating from the road: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."

Walton's soft singing come across in a deadpan manner, yet the album's tension arises from the keen writing—blending fiction, folksy sayings, and direct personal notes—along with surprising maximalism. Few songs recently possess more potent storytelling flair than "Shelly", a piece that describes the killing of an animal and spirals toward a petrol-laden reckoning, reminiscent of literary pieces illuminated with flickers of distorted strings. Anxious, subdued sections with resonating, strummed guitar transition to expansive choruses, and her voice digitally manipulated into something all-knowing and menacing.

Listeners might previously know Walton as a music creator, disc jockey, and contributor in groups like Caroline. Daughters' musical twists draw on this diverse career. The opener "Sometimes" erupts with fanfare, as if an ensemble caught by surprise, while "Born Again Backwards" drastically ups the BPM with a punishing, stunning, repeating percussion. Dense walls of sound, expertly produced by a long-term partner, seem both gnarly and spiritual, while her dark, enchanted thinking culminate in standout "Lambs", a song that briefly becomes a twirling jig. "May your life never end in death," Walton pleads, with poignant gallows humor.