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In the track "Miss America", audiences are placed inside a hotel room near JFK airfield, where Jennifer Walton learns a heartbreaking news of her father's cancer diagnosis. The Sunderland-born artist was traveling America on her initial visit, drumming with group Kero Kero Bonito, when suddenly sadness takes over, coloring all with melancholy. Faltering keys and hushed orchestration accompany gothic dispatches from the tour van: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."

Walton's gentle singing are delivered with a flat manner, yet this album's intensity stems from the keen writing—blending stories, folksy sayings, and blunt personal notes—coupled with unexpected maximalism. Not many tracks this year possess more potent novelistic flair compared to "Shelly", which describes the killing of a deer and spirals toward a petrol-laden reckoning, reminiscent of literary works lit by flickers of warped cello. Anxious, quiet verses with resonating, strummed strings move into grand refrains, with Walton's voice digitally manipulated into something all-knowing and menacing.

Listeners might previously know the artist as an electronic producer, disc jockey, and member to bands like Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns draw on her diverse background. The first track "Sometimes" erupts in flourish, like an ensemble taken unawares, while "Born Again Backwards" drastically ups the BPM with a punishing, stunning, looping drum fill. Thick layers of audio, expertly mixed with a longtime partner, seem both rough and spiritual, while her morbid, enchanted thoughts peak on standout "Lambs", a song that momentarily becomes a swirling jig. "May your life never end in death," she pleads, with heart-aching gallows humor.