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In the track "Miss America", audiences are placed inside a lodging near JFK airfield, where Jennifer Walton receives a devastating news that her dad has illness discovery. This UK-raised performer had been traveling the US for the first time, playing with group Kero Kero Bonito, and suddenly sadness takes over, tinging all in grey. Faltering piano and soft strings accompany gothic reports from the road: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."

Walton's soft singing are delivered with a deadpan style, while the album's intensity arises from the sharp penmanship—mixing fiction, traditional phrases, and blunt personal notes—along with surprising rich textures. Few songs this year possess more potent storytelling style compared to "Shelly", which describes the death of a deer and spirals toward a petrol-laden reckoning, reminiscent of literary pieces lit with flickers of distorted cello. Tense, quiet verses with resonating, plucked guitar transition to grand choruses, and Walton's vocals electronically altered into a presence all-knowing and sinister.

Listeners may already be familiar with Walton from her work as a music creator, DJ, and member to bands such as Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns reflect this varied career. The first track "Sometimes" bursts with fanfare, like a string band taken by surprise, whereas "Born Again Backwards" radically ups the BPM with a punishing, beautiful, looping percussion. Thick layers of audio, expertly produced by a long-term collaborator, seem at once gnarly and ethereal, while her dark, enchanted thinking culminate on highlight "Lambs", which briefly becomes a twirling dance. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," Walton pleads, with heart-aching dark comedy.