Mothers - When You Walk A Long Distance You Are Tired

Mothers - When You Walk A Long Distance You Are Tired 
Released February 26, 2016 via Grand Jury/Wichita

I spent the first few minutes of Mothers’ debut album, When You Walk a Long Distance You Are Tired, trying to figure out when exactly Angel Olsen started a new band. Lead singer Kristen Leschper’s yodel-esque yawp and the band’s scruffy charm mirror that of Olsen’s breakthrough album, Burn Your Fire For No Witness, to a tee. Don’t be surprised if you see this comparison in 90% of the things you read about this album, but don’t shrug it off as some copycat, either – Mothers has put together one of the finer debuts you’re likely to hear in 2016.

Opener “Too Small for Eyes” is terrific, if a bit misleading. Leschper warbles her way through a wistful tune, her voice nudged along by a softly plucking guitar and the occasional piano chord or swell of strings. It’s a fragile, vulnerable song that doesn’t necessarily indicate the sound of the rest of the album, but certainly introduces its recurring themes. Lines like “I hate my body/I love your taste” oscillate between insecurity and infatuation, capturing Leschper’s s constant internal conflict about herself and her relationships. She later sings in the same song, “Became something loaded with doubt/bullied by love, too small for eyes.” 

The lyrics offer a clever, subtle upending of the power dynamics traditionally featured in songs about new or fading love. While most songwriters take the perspective of either the scorned lover or the one in power, Leschper sings about the types of relationships that are often overlooked in music – those in which dominance and submission aren’t necessarily based on words and actions, but on passiveness and resignation (“I wear this dress of indifference, and I find it quite becoming”). The subsequent collection is more shambolic and guitar-forward than the opener, but Leschper continues to explore this territory, giving an intimate voice to the typically voiceless individuals in unbalanced partnerships. At the end of the excellent “Lockjaw” she sings “I cut out my tongue, seeing yours would speak for the both of us.”

If all of this sounds a bit heavy, don’t worry – the album has a natural lightness of touch that balances Leschper’s reading-someone-else’s-diary intimacy. Part of that has to do with her voice. Like Olsen, it can sound optimistic and injured at the same time, and it inherently makes the songs more interesting because you never quite know where it’s going to go next. Likewise, just when you think you have the band’s sound figured out, they go ahead and drop something like the explosive “Lockjaw,” or the pretty, polished climax of “Hold Your Own Hand.” That’s the album’s greatest strength; despite the thematic consistency, the songs manage to surprise and gut you, often at the same time, from beginning to end.