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In the track "Miss America", listeners find themselves inside a lodging near JFK airport, as the musician learns the devastating news of her father's illness discovery. The UK-raised performer had been touring the US on her initial visit, playing alongside group Kero Kero Bonito, and suddenly grief takes over, coloring everything with melancholy. Faltering piano and hushed orchestration underscore dark reports from the tour van: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."

Walton's soft vocals come across in a deadpan manner, while the album's intensity arises from her keen writing—blending fiction, folksy sayings, and blunt diary entries—coupled with unexpected maximalism. Not many songs recently possess stronger storytelling flair than "Shelly", a piece that depicts the killing of an animal and descends into a fuel-soaked reckoning, reminiscent of written works lit by flickers of warped cello. Anxious, quiet verses featuring echoing, strummed strings transition to grand choruses, and her vocals digitally manipulated to become something omniscient and sinister.

Listeners may previously be familiar with Walton from her work as an electronic producer, disc jockey, and member in groups like Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns draw on this varied career. The opener "Sometimes" bursts with fanfare, like a string band caught by surprise, while "Born Again Backwards" drastically ups the BPM via an intense, stunning, repeating percussion. Dense layers of audio, expertly mixed by a long-term collaborator, seem at once gnarly and spiritual, and her morbid, magical thoughts culminate in standout "Lambs", which briefly transforms into a swirling dance. "May your life never end in death," she bargains, exuding poignant gallows humor.