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Within the song "Miss America", listeners find themselves inside a lodging near JFK airport, as Jennifer Walton receives a devastating update of her father's illness diagnosis. The Sunderland-born artist was touring the US for the first time, playing with group Kero Kero Bonito, and suddenly sadness takes over, coloring everything with melancholy. Faltering keys and soft strings accompany dark reports emanating from the road: "Cattle farm and broke down shack / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."

Her gentle singing come across in a deadpan manner, yet this album's intensity stems from her keen penmanship—blending fiction, traditional phrases, and blunt diary entries—coupled with surprising maximalism. Not many songs recently possess more potent novelistic flair than "Shelly", which describes the death of an animal and spirals toward a petrol-laden confrontation, reminiscent of literary works lit by glimpses of warped strings. Anxious, quiet sections with echoing, plucked guitar move into expansive refrains, and Walton's vocals digitally manipulated to become something omniscient and sinister.

Audiences may previously know the artist as an electronic producer, DJ, and contributor in groups such as Caroline. Daughters' musical twists reflect her diverse background. The first track "Sometimes" erupts in fanfare, like a string band taken unawares, whereas "Born Again Backwards" radically ups the tempo via a punishing, beautiful, looping percussion. Dense layers of audio, expertly produced by a long-term collaborator, feel at once gnarly and spiritual, and Walton's morbid, magical thoughts culminate in standout "Lambs", which momentarily becomes a twirling dance. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," Walton pleads, with poignant gallows humor.