Ten years ago, Aaron Dessner was more likely to be mistaken for his twin brother Bryce than for any kind of pop guru. That all changed, however, with Taylor Swift's unlikely summons for her lockdown one-two folklore and evermore. Both showcased a far more sensitive, vulnerable and intimate side to her stadium-filling pomp, care of the National guitarist's subtle production, co-writing and arrangements.
Six years removed, Dessner's once-unique format has sadly been diluted into holding patterns, as evidenced by bores like Ed Sheeran's Subtract and Mumford & Sons' Prizefighter. Amidst the dreck, however, is Swift's protégée and Eras Tour opener Gracie Abrams.
Almost instantly pushed into the spotlight due to her family name, the singer-songwriter needed a steady veteran hand to guide her folksy pop ideas — and Dessner was in the right place at the right time. This lead to the multi-platinum success of 2024's The Secret of Us, with brightly-coloured hits "Close to You" and "That's So True" bolstering Gen-Z poptimism.
Secret showcased the potential Abrams has to become the kind of main pop girlie referred to by first name only. It's disappointing, then, that Daughter from Hell often feels like following up a summer blockbuster with a telemovie.
Abrams's bestie and co-conspirator Audrey Hobert is largely absent from this record. Having co-written Secret's best songs, she moved onto her own pop career in 2025 with the excellent Who's the Clown? So much has she proven to be the Simon to Abrams' Garfunkel (creatively, at least) that her sole songwriting contribution here, the two-minute "Minibar," now feels like Abrams doing Audrey Hobert karaoke.
In fact, there's plenty of sincere forms of flattery across Daughter — the inevitable nods to Swift, of course, but also to the likes of Olivia Rodrigo ("Look at My Life," fittingly co-produced by her right-hand Dan Nigro) and Lorde ("Men Like You") that play as facsimile rather than pastiche. Instead of accentuating idiosyncrasies, Abrams is inexplicably hell-bent on anonymizing her entire sonic palette.
In an even more ironic twist, the album's highlights only exacerbate these frustrations. There's a prettiness in the free fall of opener and lead single "Hit the Wall," with Abrams's tender vocals and confessional lyricism tessellating beautifully with a fluttering synth arpeggio programmed by Bon Iver's Justin Vernon, of all people. With only muted pads as its percussive undercurrent, however, there's no dynamic payoff, leaving listeners feeling like they're riding the escalator to nowhere from The Simpsons.
At the other end of the album, there's a true moment of refined beauty in the Marcus Mumford duet "What If It's Right?," Dessner's delicate finger-picked guitar recalling Lindsey Buckingham, while the perfect pairing of the singers' voices showcases what an indie-folk force Abrams could be with the right retooling.
"I'm only half sure that I mean it," Abrams coos on the humdrum waltz of "Good Reason." She probably didn't intend for this particular lyric to be a succinct summation of Daughter from Hell, but here we are. This is an album of meetings that could've been emails, with not nearly enough conviction to buoy such belaboured points.
