For a band that was originally intended as nothing more than a studio project between three Glasgow-based musicians, Chvrches did pretty well for themselves. The trio of Lauren Mayberry, Iain Cook and Martin Doherty, who described themselves as “a band born on the internet”, had no great ambitions to start with. “There wasn’t really any goal,” Doherty once said, “other than to put a song out on the internet and see what kind of response we got.”
The band would go on to achieve huge success, beginning with their debut single, The Mother We Share, and their subsequent debut album, The Bones of What You Believe, both from 2013, making their mark as purveyors of carefully cultivated synthpop with a social conscience.
In latter years it led to collaborations with everyone from Robert Smith of The Cure to Matt Berninger of The National – alliances they could only have dreamed of in those early days recording in Cook’s flat on the southside of Glasgow.
More than a decade after Chvrches formed, and with four albums to their name, Mayberry, their frontwoman, announced her intention to strike out alone with a debut single in 2023. Freed from the shackles of speaking on behalf of a group – which is now officially on hiatus – her solo material is “musical and lyrical things that I don’t get to do in the band, or don’t feel comfortable doing in the band”.
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It’s certainly Mayberry’s most personal lyric sheet. Although the sharp edges are arguably softened, the desire for anthems somewhat dampened, and with less weight of expectation on these songs, the 37-year-old has plenty to say, albeit not in the manner you may expect.
Although Mayberry has proven admirably outspoken in her nonmusical output, from cofounding a feminist collective and speaking out against misogyny in the music industry to slamming Donald Trump’s policies and calling for gun control in the United States, Vicious Creature is less a fiery political manifesto and more a subtle exploration of what makes her tick.
Its lead single, Crocodile Tears, examines society’s expectations that women be “nice”, framing it as a dismissive kiss-off amid a propulsive disco-pop strut. The zooming zig-zag riff of Shame treads similar lyrical ground, perhaps read as a denunciation of the music industry’s tendency to “romanticise all the pain”; Change Shapes illustrates the pressure of having to be all things to all people (“It’s exhausting, trying so hard all the time / Performative hypocrisy took over my mind / I’m a doll in a box, with a ball and chain”).
Occasionally the self-examination, as on the humdrum Anywhere But Dancing, can feel a little overdone, and it all sounds perhaps a little worthy for what is essentially pop music. Still, Mayberry makes sure to balance such weighty topics with quirky melodies and clipped beats that keep the mood buoyant for the most part.
There are also some curveballs on this track list, however, some of which make “synthpop” sound like a misnomer. Oh Mother is a highlight, a piano-led ode to Mayberry’s mum that embraces the passage of time and their changing relationship with a tenderness that is sweet yet not saccharine.
Are You Awake takes a similarly softer-edged approach, an open letter to a lover – perhaps her musician partner, Sam Stewart, son of Dave Stewart of Eurythmics and Siobhan Fahey of Bananarama – that lays bare her hopes and fears (“I’ve been thinking about some things / Been counting their babies and their diamond wedding rings”).
Punch Drunk, meanwhile, is a celebratory love song with the kind of angular art-pop twists and turns that nod to Devo, Mayberry’s reedy croon declaring, “To fall in love is a disease, I’ve been feeling quite unwell.” The skip-hop jitter of Sunday Best is a proclamation of self-acceptance and self-help (“Don’t walk on eggshells if you’re not the shy, retiring kind / Don’t betray your body or your mind”) that is one of the most radio-friendly tracks here.
Is this solo album just an itch to be scratched, or has Mayberry’s head been turned by the freedom to express herself without having to account for her bandmates? Whether or not Chvrches’ hiatus ends up being permanent, Vicious Creature is evidence that she is well capable of holding her own – and on her own terms, too.
