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In the song "Miss America", listeners are placed in a lodging near JFK airport, as Jennifer Walton learns a devastating news that her dad has cancer diagnosis. The UK-raised artist was traveling the US on her initial visit, playing with group Kero Kero Bonito, and abruptly grief casts a shadow, tinging all with melancholy. Faltering piano and hushed strings accompany dark reports from the tour van: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Shopping centers, illicit trades, anxious moments."

Her gentle singing are delivered in a deadpan style, yet this record's tension stems from the keen writing—blending fiction, folksy sayings, and blunt diary entries—coupled with surprising maximalism. Few songs this year showcase stronger storytelling flair than "Shelly", a piece that depicts the death of a deer and descends into a petrol-laden reckoning, reminiscent of literary works lit with glimpses of distorted cello. Tense, subdued verses featuring echoing, plucked guitar move to grand choruses, with Walton's voice digitally manipulated into a presence omniscient and sinister.

Listeners might already know the artist from her work as a music creator, DJ, and contributor in groups such as Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns draw on this varied background. The opener "Sometimes" bursts in fanfare, as if an ensemble taken by surprise, while "Born Again Backwards" radically ups the BPM via an intense, stunning, repeating percussion. Dense layers of audio, expertly produced by a longtime collaborator, feel both gnarly and ethereal, while her morbid, enchanted thoughts culminate on highlight "Lambs", a song that briefly transforms into a swirling dance. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," she pleads, exuding heart-aching gallows humor.