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In this song "Miss America", audiences find themselves in a hotel room near JFK airport, where the musician receives the heartbreaking news that her dad has illness discovery. The Sunderland-born performer was touring the US on her initial visit, playing with group Kero Kero Bonito, when abruptly grief casts a shadow, tinging everything in grey. Faltering piano and soft orchestration accompany gothic reports from the road: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Shopping centers, illicit trades, anxious moments."

Her soft vocals come across with a flat manner, while the record's intensity stems from the sharp penmanship—mixing stories, traditional phrases, and blunt personal notes—coupled with surprising rich textures. Not many songs recently showcase stronger novelistic flair compared to "Shelly", which describes the death of an animal and descends toward a petrol-laden reckoning, evoking written pieces lit by glimpses of distorted cello. Anxious, quiet sections with resonating, plucked strings transition to grand choruses, with Walton's voice electronically altered to become a presence all-knowing and sinister.

Listeners might already know the artist as a music creator, disc jockey, and contributor in groups such as Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns draw on this diverse career. The opener "Sometimes" erupts with fanfare, like an ensemble taken by surprise, while "Born Again Backwards" drastically ups the tempo via an intense, stunning, looping percussion. Dense layers of audio, skillfully mixed by a long-term partner, feel both rough and ethereal, and Walton's morbid, enchanted thinking culminate on standout "Lambs", which briefly becomes a twirling jig. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," she bargains, with poignant dark comedy.