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Within the song "Miss America", listeners find themselves inside a hotel room close to JFK airfield, where Jennifer Walton learns a heartbreaking update that her dad has illness diagnosis. The UK-raised performer was touring the US on her initial visit, playing with group Kero Kero Bonito, when suddenly sadness casts a shadow, tinging all in grey. Faltering keys and soft strings accompany dark dispatches emanating from the tour van: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."

Her soft singing are delivered with a flat style, while this record's intensity arises from the sharp penmanship—mixing fiction, folksy sayings, and blunt diary entries—coupled with unexpected maximalism. Not many tracks this year showcase stronger novelistic flair than "Shelly", a piece that describes the killing of an animal and descends toward a fuel-soaked reckoning, evoking written works lit with glimpses of distorted strings. Tense, quiet sections with echoing, plucked strings transition to grand choruses, and her vocals electronically altered to become a presence all-knowing and menacing.

Listeners may previously be familiar with Walton as an electronic producer, disc jockey, and contributor to bands like Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns draw on her diverse background. The opener "Sometimes" erupts in fanfare, as if an ensemble caught by surprise, whereas "Born Again Backwards" drastically increases the tempo with a punishing, beautiful, repeating percussion. Dense layers of audio, expertly mixed by a long-term partner, feel both rough and ethereal, and her dark, enchanted thinking peak in standout "Lambs", a song that momentarily transforms into a twirling dance. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," Walton bargains, with heart-aching dark comedy.