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In the song "Miss America", audiences are placed in a hotel room close to JFK airport, where the musician receives a heartbreaking update that her dad has illness diagnosis. The Sunderland-born artist had been touring the US for the first time, playing with group Kero Kero Bonito, when abruptly sadness takes over, tinging everything with melancholy. Unsteady piano and hushed strings accompany gothic dispatches from the tour van: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."

Her gentle singing are delivered in a flat manner, while this album's tension stems from the keen penmanship—mixing stories, traditional phrases, and direct diary entries—coupled with surprising rich textures. Few songs recently possess more potent novelistic style compared to "Shelly", which describes the death of a deer and spirals into a petrol-laden confrontation, evoking literary pieces illuminated by flickers of warped cello. Tense, quiet verses featuring echoing, plucked strings move to grand choruses, and Walton's vocals digitally manipulated into a presence omniscient and menacing.

Listeners might previously know Walton from her work as an electronic producer, DJ, and member in groups like Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns draw on her diverse background. The first track "Sometimes" erupts in fanfare, as if an ensemble caught unawares, while "Born Again Backwards" radically ups the tempo via a punishing, stunning, repeating drum fill. Dense layers of audio, skillfully mixed with a longtime collaborator, seem both rough and spiritual, and Walton's morbid, enchanted thinking culminate in highlight "Lambs", a song that briefly becomes a twirling dance. "May your life never end in death," Walton bargains, exuding poignant dark comedy.