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Within the track "Miss America", listeners are placed in a hotel room near JFK airfield, as the musician receives a devastating update that her dad has illness discovery. The Sunderland-born performer had been touring the US on her initial visit, playing with group Kero Kero Bonito, and suddenly grief casts a shadow, coloring all with melancholy. Faltering keys and soft orchestration underscore gothic reports emanating from the road: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."

Walton's gentle singing are delivered in a deadpan style, while this album's intensity stems from the sharp writing—blending fiction, folksy sayings, and blunt diary entries—along with unexpected rich textures. Not many songs recently showcase stronger storytelling flair than "Shelly", which depicts the death of an animal and spirals toward a fuel-soaked confrontation, evoking literary works illuminated by glimpses of distorted strings. Tense, quiet sections featuring echoing, plucked strings move into expansive refrains, and Walton's voice electronically altered to become a presence all-knowing and menacing.

Listeners may previously be familiar with Walton from her work as an electronic producer, disc jockey, and member to bands such as Caroline. Daughters' sonic turns reflect this varied background. The opener "Sometimes" erupts in fanfare, as if an ensemble taken by surprise, whereas "Born Again Backwards" radically increases the BPM via an intense, beautiful, repeating drum fill. Dense layers of audio, expertly produced with a long-term collaborator, seem both rough and spiritual, while her dark, enchanted thinking peak on highlight "Lambs", which briefly transforms into a swirling dance. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," she bargains, exuding poignant gallows humor.