For millennial indie veterans, it’s hard to imagine that CHVRCHES’ debut came out eleven years ago. It’s been a wild ride for the band, growing from being Scotland’s latest indie darlings to touring the world and collaborating with the likes of Hayley Williams and Robert Smith. Key to their success has been the pirouetting presence of Lauren Mayberry, whose refreshingly accented vocals and poignant lyrics have given CHVRCHES the edge in a sea of synth-pop acts. Despite fronting a kick-ass rock band, owning both law and journalism degrees, being a drummer, AND being a founder of a Glasgow-based feminist collective, Mayberry has dealt with some sickening misogyny from day one – hell, sad sacks have even been sending her unsolicited images the week I’m writing this.
Unsurprisingly, this had sometimes caused the songwriter to feel like her gender was an obstacle in a male-dominated space. With material from CHVRCHES’ last album – the excellent ‘Screen Violence’ – reaching new levels of openness and over a decade now spent in a band, Mayberry has decided it is time to fly the solo flag and show the world a side of herself free from group constraints. The result is the most intimate songs of her career, but ones you can often hit the dance floor too. With formative inspirations like Madonna, Sugarbabes, and Jenny Lewis inspiring ‘Vicious Creature,’ it’s fair to say this ain’t no mope fest. This is pop with bite.
Teaming up with producer and friend Dan McDougall, Mayberry has compiled twelve tracks that, while looking back at the 90s pop heyday, sound contemporary thanks to their unapologetic fierceness. The package as a whole is uneven, but there’s plenty here to get your teeth stuck into. ‘Crocodile Tears,’ ‘Shame,’ and ‘Change Shapes’ get the balance just right. Mayberry deals with hypocrisy, masculinity, and personal growth over bouncing 80s synths and sing-along choruses. They’re intelligent and bold tunes in the same vein as The Queen of Pop.
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Not so effective is ‘Sorry, Etc,’ which clearly wants to evoke ‘Sound of the Underground’ / ‘Freak Like Me’ abrasive noughties vibes, but it sounds messy rather than empowering. On the flip side, the icy production of ‘Mantra’ works a treat. It’s an impressive piece of art-pop using subtly reversed vocals, and while being an album highlight, it doesn’t go with anything else on the record. Things feel scattershot. ‘Vicious Creature’ is the sound of an artist almost too happy to have the freedom to run in every tonal direction.
This point is reinforced by the haunting ‘Anywhere But Dancing’ and ‘Oh, Mother.’ The former is an acoustically led strummer that sees Mayberry heartbreakingly analyze the changing nature of romantic relationships. The latter also deals with changing relationships, but this time, it’s the often complicated interplay between mothers and daughters. Led by gentle piano chords, it is reminiscent of Tori Amos’ ‘Winter’ and is a fragile tearjerker of a song. These are tracks made all the more potent by the relatively simple way they have been presented. Every song on ‘Vicious Creature’ has an intriguing message, but some are delivered with more aplomb than others.
As solo records go, Mayberry’s first is fun and often touching, but like many before, it is trying to find its identity.
7/10
Words: Sam Walker-Smart
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