Lauren Mayberry is a peacemaker.
Since 2011, she has been the frontwoman of Glaswegian band Chvrches, who have topped festival bills and album charts with their trademark barrage of distorted synths and razor-sharp lyrics.
Mayberry was the baby of the band – just 23 when she joined, and several years younger than her bandmates, Iain Cook and Martin Doherty.
But their chemistry was instant. Chvrches’ first single, The Mother We Share, was written and recorded in 48 hours, using only three synths – but it became a word of mouth, gaining airplay on BBC Radio 1 and Passion Pit. and secured support slots with Depeche. Mode
In the press, they carefully presented themselves as a band, with each member receiving equal billing. But Mayberry says she was worried about being a junior partner.
“I was always aware that I was younger than the other guys, and they had a lot more experience,” she says.
“They went to music school, and I didn’t. So I always felt like I was on the back foot, in terms of where I sat in the hierarchy.”
This feeling was reinforced during the 2019 tour of Australia.
The itinerary gave the band a four-day break in Melbourne, and Mayberry was looking forward to spending downtime with her bandmates and crew – until she learned they had made separate plans and were going to their own. She was stuck in a hotel room.
“I remember being very upset and hurt by it because I’ve always cared about everyone and taken care of everyone, and it was a humbling moment,” she says.
“In the end, I rented a small car and drove to an Australian spa town and cried while listening to Taylor Swift’s Carol Summer.”
Looking back, she thinks that being the only woman in the touring party made her take the “emotional labor” of keeping the show on the road.
“I feel like I twisted myself into a pretzel sometimes to please everyone.
“Then I’ll look back and think, ‘And were you happy?’
“Not really, but I was making peace.”
He considered leaving the band after the incident in Australia. Then Covid struck, and Chvrches made a fourth album in the distance, 2021’s Screen Violence.
He finally decided a year later, but not before signing a new record deal with his bandmates, assuring the future of the project.
“I was conscious that it would give people a sense of security, that I had made a commitment,” she says.
“I don’t know if it actually works that way, but that was my hope.”
He is keen to stress that there is no bad blood: Martin and Doherty have given him their full support. Still, it’s natural for someone to leave a band and express themselves in opposition to this music – otherwise what’s the point?
As Mayberry put it succinctly: “I didn’t want to make a crap knock-off Chvrches record.”
In a recording session, she would cringe when someone brought out a vintage synth. Instead, he pursued a more organic, lyrics-first approach.
But after a decade in the trio, the instinct to compromise was hard-wired.
“I’m very used to arguing my point, then trying to see other people’s points of view,” she says.
“So it was a real learning curve like, ‘No, this is my opinion, and if I don’t get it right, then it’s not right, and that’s the end of the conversation’.”
crying wolf
The result is Vicious Creature, an album that reveals new depths to Mayberry’s voice, oscillating between vulnerability and venom while paying homage to her pop heroines.
She channels the spirit of All Saints on the album opener. Something in the air; and borrows the chopped, sampled chords of Annie Lennox’s Walking On Broken Glass to power the single. Crocodile tears.
The latter is a strong reaction to an emotionally manipulative man, where Mayberry states: “What’s a man gonna say just to get his way / Always crying wolf, so I’m sorry to say / I really don’t wanna hear it from you, baby“
The singer says she’s playing a role in the song, inspired by the dark, subversive femininity of Velma Kelly in the musical Chicago or Sally Bowles of Cabaret.
It is one of several songs that were left over from the album’s first incarnation – tentatively titled Mythology – which would be “dark, theatrical and character-driven”.
Gradually, over time, more personal songs began to creep into the mix.
The syncretic pulse of Transformative Forms is a denunciation of the sexism of the music industry (“I’m a doll in a box, with a ball and chain.”). Sorry, Etc tells a similar story over a chaotic hybrid of garage rock and drum and bass.
“There were definitely some songs where it was frustration at best and frustration at worst. [feeling] About her life in music, says Mayberry.
The album’s most profound moment is a quiet piano ballad called Oh, Mother.
Over three verses, Mayberry documents her changing relationship with her mother – from the unquestioning love of childhood to the hatred of adulthood and finally the realization that her time together is limited.
“It kills me to know you won’t be around,“She sings softly.”O mother, what will I do without you?“
The last song written for the record, the words came after Mayberry’s friend and co-writer Dan McDougall sketched out the chords in the studio.
Discussing the lyrics, which were inspired by a family illness, the singer gets a little emotional.
“When you’re living in the shadow of things like that, it’s on your mind all the time,” she says.
“I think about it all the time. When I go on tour, I always think, ‘Oh, is this the tour I’ve been on and I miss it’.”
“So there was a lot of crying in the studio that last afternoon… but then we went to Nando’s, so it’s all about balance.”
Mayberry says Oh, Mom is the song she could never write in Chvrches.
“It’s not a place we go emotionally or vocally,” she says.
“I think the best songs are when the lyrics and the meaning and the sound connect but [with Chvrches] I was writing stuff in my notebook and thinking, ‘This is never going to fit in with what the band is doing’.
Change is never easy. While some reviews called the album “A master class in pop alchemy“, others have said Mayberry “It still feels like someone is finding their feet.“
Fans of Chvrches’ industrial sound have also expressed dismay, but the singer has learned to distance himself from the criticism.
“When people are like, ‘Screw you,’ I take it like this: You’re mad at me, but you’re mad at me because life is hard, and our music made your life a little bit easier for a minute.” Made it. Now you’re like, ‘Please don’t take it away.’
“When I was 24, it was a lot, but when I can separate it, it makes sense.
“You’re a representative of something that means a lot to that person — so when you do something else, it threatens that idea of being there.”
The flip side of this equation comes in concert. When Mayberry plays a song like Asking for a Friend with her reassuring chant,You still matter“, she often sees someone in the audience dancing”.
“And when people cry, I cry. Everyone’s like, ‘Are you okay?’ But I’m stuck right now.
“But I hope that’s why I’m good at my job, because I have a kind of empathy.
“It’s painful for my life, but hopefully good for the crowd.”