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Within this song "Miss America", audiences find themselves inside a lodging close to JFK airfield, as the musician receives a devastating news that her dad has cancer diagnosis. The Sunderland-born artist was touring the US on her initial visit, playing with indie band Kero Kero Bonito, and suddenly sadness takes over, coloring all in grey. Faltering piano and hushed orchestration underscore gothic dispatches emanating from the road: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Shopping centers, illicit trades, anxious moments."

Her soft singing are delivered in a deadpan style, while this album's tension arises from her sharp writing—blending fiction, traditional phrases, and direct personal notes—along with surprising maximalism. Few songs this year showcase stronger novelistic flair than "Shelly", which describes the death of a deer and descends into a petrol-laden confrontation, evoking written works illuminated with flickers of distorted strings. Anxious, subdued verses with resonating, strummed guitar transition to grand choruses, and her vocals electronically altered into something all-knowing and menacing.

Listeners may previously be familiar with Walton from her work as an electronic producer, DJ, and member to bands such as Caroline. Daughters' musical twists reflect her varied background. The opener "Sometimes" bursts with fanfare, like a string band taken by surprise, while "Born Again Backwards" drastically ups the tempo via a punishing, beautiful, repeating drum fill. Dense layers of audio, expertly mixed by a longtime collaborator, seem both gnarly and ethereal, and Walton's dark, enchanted thoughts peak in highlight "Lambs", which momentarily transforms into a twirling jig. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," Walton pleads, with poignant gallows humor.