Jessica Lea Mayfield & David Mayfield in Louisville

Sibling rivalry can be the fiercest of competitions, more vicious than political infighting. It’s love and hate, there’s the protective instinct, and of course, a desire to one-up that pesky brother or sister. A sibling can somehow get closer to pinpointing your strengths and weaknesses than anyone else in this world. It’s an indescribable, unparalleled connection between two human beings.

So when Jessica Lea Mayfield and David Mayfield decided to go on tour together, they thought The Sibling Rivalry Tour would be a good name. But luckily for us, these siblings are the type that gets along. Perhaps a better name would be Sibling Bonding. The two haven’t spent much time together lately – with both of them leading their own bands – so they chose the dates because it allowed them to travel together around the holiday season.

It’s not like they haven’t shared the spotlight with each other. They started performing together when they were young. In fact, it was a family affair. They traveled with their parents in the bluegrass band, One Way Rider. Jessica was only eight.

“When I was old enough to have rational thought, about six years old, I knew I wanted to play music for my whole life. I wasn’t one of those kids who was like, ‘oh I’m going to be an astronaut and a guitar player and a priest and a Mormon and a nurse,’” says Mayfield.

And music is what both have done ever since. While she admits that the lifestyle of a traveling musician is less glamorous than she initially imagined, Mayfield says she’s never taken her eyes off this path.

Fortunately, working with her brother and her husband has helped keep her comfortable during her creative process. Both have played in her band and toured with her at some point since her debut full-length in 2008. Mayfield has also enlisted the help of The Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach, who produced both her debut and 2011’s Tell Me, both of which express a sort of quiet turmoil.

Mayfield says she only writes about personal experiences, but she’s mostly driven to create when she’s angry or tense. And even though she’s still in the honeymoon period of her new marriage, she’s inspired to write her contemplative folk tunes in the worst moments.

“I’ve noticed that I’ve been writing about things like anger and sex and all other different aspects of my marriage that aren’t the good ones. Because when I’m having good experiences I’m going to go have fun. If I’m having bad experiences, I’m going to slam the door and do my own thing and be creative. It’s hard to be creative, at least for me, when I’m in a good mood. Because I’m just like, ‘Ok! Let’s go get ice cream and go see a movie.’ I almost need a little bit of turmoil.”

Mayfield plans to self-produce for the first time on her third release. She’s working with her brother and husband at home in Kent, Ohio on some of the new material. While it’s been nice to leave the grind of constant touring behind to work on new ideas, Mayfield is ready to get back on the road.

 “You can only appreciate watching Netflix naked so much. If it’s just one day a week, it’s alright, but if it’s every night, it’s like, ‘aw man.’ I need to get back out there.”

(I wrote this for LEO Weekly. You can see this show Tuesday, December 11th at Zanzabar. See ya there.)

Sandpaper Dolls Only Need Voices

I wrote this for LEO Weekly. Their album release show is tomorrow night at Meat!

Lugging heavy equipment from venue to venue, many bands only dream of leaving all of that hassle behind. Suki Anderson, Amber Estes, and Rebecca Dennison never had to worry about that. Ever since they formed Sandpaper Dolls, instruments were just memories they left in the past.

After playing in several different bands, the trio decided to form their own powerhouse. And this time, their vocal chords alone were enough.

Rather than carrying on like a chipper barbershop quartet, they’ve found their niche in more haunting harmonies. That doesn’t mean they’re leaving behind the fundamentals they learned in previous bands. Each song – although a cappella – has percussive elements, a bassline, and a melody.

That percussion is reflected in various shapes and forms on their forthcoming debut studio album, Swallow Them Whole. “Colors” uses breathing techniques to establish a subtle beat, and a tongue clicks pepper “Cast Your Love” with a certain jazz.

“No matter what culture you’re in, everyone connects with the human voice. And they also connect with percussion in a lot of ways,” explains Dennison.

“Tesla Bossa” showcases some of the innovative ways they’ve been able to transform their voices into multi-dimensional instruments. Between chorus and verse, what sounds like a rousing horn solo overtakes the shuffle.

“We’re good at doing unusual things,” says Anderson, “But not to the point it’s a gimmick. You can push the envelope without pushing things too far.”

That applies to some new ideas they’ve added to their bag of tricks. One that took practice was learning how to sing while breathing in. They tried it because every breath is crucial in music so intimate that a pin drop would be jarring.

Estes laughs when recalling the first time she tried it. “I’m like, okay. I have to hit a note while I’m inhaling.”

Capturing those tiny moments on tape is another challenge. The trio spent three years recording Swallow Them Whole, catching the natural reverb of a church, the creepy vibes in a studio above a funeral home in West Louisville, and some classy moments inside a cave on Lexington Road.

“It was rough,” Anderson jokes, “There was an old mattress in the corner. It was like mud everywhere. It was just this slippery mud fest. It was really fun. It was like being in a hobbit hole almost. Actually a hobbit hole probably would have been nicer.”

To keep dry in the dripping cave, they all held umbrellas over them the entire time. And that was the easy part. Producer Kevin Ratterman (also known for helping My Morning Jacket record Circuital) carried a gigantic tape machine into the cave and covered it and all the cords with plastic.

All that legwork was worth it. The warmth and clarity of the recording is enough to make you feel like you’re standing a foot away from Anderson, Estes and Dennison. The occasional echo gives the three-part harmonies an otherworldy, timeless quality.

Their album release show aims to match that closeness. Sandpaper Dolls will take the stage at Meat, surrounded by candles and as many people as can fit inside the small bar. The night is bittersweet, though. After five years together, this landmark night also marks the Dennison’s departure from the band.

She’s leaving after what she calls a dry creative season and a need to refresh. The parting is amicable, and Estes and Anderson are already rehearsing with a new member.

So just as these three walked into one another’s lives, leaving the clutter of instruments behind, they continue their journey. They’re walking away from a longtime partnership, but headed toward a bright future.

School of Seven Bells Rings to Life

Not every Ghostory is the same

Some bands are defined by their image. Some by the scratchy vocals, or the signature wall of sound. Others are known for simple melodies, the kind that stick around in the brain for hours on end. School of Seven Bells is more abstract. The number of musicians in the band is fluid. They’ll tour with four, then three, then five. Right now, they’re at four, but that could all change with a moment’s notice.

Alejandra Dehaza and Benjamin Curtis are the band’s core songwriting duo. But their three-album catalog has stretched from the ethereal, wispy musings of Alpinisms to the pulsing heat of songs like “Low Time” off Ghostory, which came out earlier this year. The discography spans from shoegaze to supersynthy, and across the length of just one album, you’re transported to countless places.

As Curtis explains, they’ve never really been a traditional rock and roll band. The one thing that brings continuity to School of Seven Bells is Dehaza’s emotional sensibility, her approach of taking simple subjects like love and longing and transforming them into passionate experiences.

Their songwriting process is unique. Dehaza comes up with the lyrics, and Curtis responds by molding the music around them. His creations prompt her to alter the words, and they bounce back and forth like that until a song is complete.

“The catalyst can be a line that Alley writes, or a sound that I make, or a melody, or anything. And the song just sort of explodes from that,” says Curtis. It’s different every time.

Ghostory is written from the perspective of a character named Lafaye. Sometimes Lafaye is sometimes a culprit, other times she’s the victim. It’s not Dehaza’s first time writing as a character; their other albums are littered with songs from different voices. She’s explained “My Cabal” as a story about an alpinist and a poet, both crippled by their impulses. Writing as characters, Dehaza can explore her own honest emotions.

Though the music can stretch into dreamy, wraithlike territory, Curtis insists it isn’t the kind of live show played behind laptops and machines. It comes to life, an immersive burst of emotions. And, he emphasizes, it’s loud.

“I like to be transported when I go see shows. I like to feel like I’ve never been in that realm before. I like to feel like I’m completely 100 percent absorbed in the music. And there’s a million ways to do that. In our shows I feel like that onstage, and I hope that that’s communicated into the crowd.”

Dehaza and Curtis are getting to the point where they can’t fit all the songs they want to play into their hour and a half set. Even while they’re touring, new songs are coming out of the woodwork. So quickly, in fact, that they’re halfway through writing the next album.

“We can’t stop making music,” says Curits, “It’s a good situation to be in.”

To share some of the wealth, they’re bringing a 4-song mini album with them on the road that fans can only get at the shows. The new material is their most direct and immersive yet, and for good reason.

“There’s an intensity to Alley’s writing, and some of the subject matter is really heavy. I think the idea this time was that we wanted your brain to be fully absorbed in the story and the words and where the vocals are.”