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In the song "Miss America", listeners are placed in a lodging close to JFK airport, as the musician receives a heartbreaking update that her dad has illness diagnosis. The Sunderland-born artist was touring America on her initial visit, drumming with group Kero Kero Bonito, when abruptly sadness casts a shadow, tinging everything with melancholy. Faltering keys and hushed strings accompany dark reports from the road: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."

Walton's soft singing come across with a deadpan style, while the album's intensity arises from the keen penmanship—blending fiction, traditional phrases, and direct diary entries—coupled with unexpected maximalism. Not many tracks this year possess more potent novelistic style compared to "Shelly", which describes the death of an animal and descends into a fuel-soaked reckoning, evoking literary pieces lit with glimpses of warped cello. Tense, quiet sections featuring resonating, strummed guitar move into grand choruses, and Walton's vocals electronically altered into something omniscient and menacing.

Audiences might previously be familiar with the artist as a music creator, disc jockey, and contributor to bands such as Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns reflect her diverse background. The opener "Sometimes" erupts in fanfare, as if an ensemble caught by surprise, whereas "Born Again Backwards" drastically increases the BPM via an intense, beautiful, repeating drum fill. Thick layers of audio, expertly mixed by a long-term partner, feel both rough and spiritual, and her dark, enchanted thoughts peak on highlight "Lambs", which momentarily becomes a swirling dance. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," she pleads, with heart-aching gallows humor.