Q&A: Kristine Leschper of Mothers

The Athens-based singer and guitarist on the ego and performing from the gut

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Mothers released their debut full-length, When You Walk A Long Distance You Are Tired, in February 2016. With its heart-wrenching melodies and confessional lyrics, the album possesses a transcendent quality that left an immediate impact on the indie rock blogosphere. Although the Athens-based four-piece is now a collaborative project, Mothers began as an outlet for vocalist/guitarist Kristine Leschper’s solo material, and as respite from her printmaking studies at the University of Georgia. Elements of math rock, post-punk and indie-folk songwriting come together throughout the album bolstering a musical style that is singularly stunning. Before bringing the group to Atlanta for a night at the Earl, Leschper took a few minutes to reflect on what the album means to her a year after its arrival, and what the future holds in store for Mothers.

When You Walk A Long Distance You Are Tired by Mothers

You’ve said you didn’t mean for When You Walk A Long Distance You Are Tired to be a sad record. Does a small part of you resent that it’s perceived that way?

I felt empowered through the act of writing and performing those songs, especially at a time when I was very unsure of myself and what I had to offer, or even what I was interested in offering. Parts of the songs are sad, or troubling, but always trying to get at this idea of recovery, and a resolute temperament.

Is a certain amount of self-doubt or ego healthy?

Sure. What I am trying to concentrate on now is the work itself, and to get out of thinking about how I feel about the work altogether. It seems healthier. Lately, it seems like this delicate balancing act between self-doubt and ego is, more than anything else, indulgent. And that maybe it should be ignored completely, which is difficult, so that a work ethic that disregards ego entirely can take its place. There is no time to love or hate yourself if you are busy making the work.

Is it difficult to sing extremely personal songs night after night? Or is it a way of coming to terms with those experiences?

If anything, it has made me interested in being more observant than introspective in future writing. The self-importance of that record, looking back, has made me feel sheltered and embarrassed by my own experiences, especially as a white, cis American born in an upper-middle class family. My biggest criticism of our first record is that the subject matter is central to my experiences only. That album feels near-sighted to me in that way.

Why is “always” a dirty word to say?

Ah! “Always is a dirty word to say” has been our one-sentence bio on websites for so long that I’ve forgotten to change it. It’s a line from “Stairwell Song,” a solo song I wrote that was never properly recorded. Honestly, I remember making a website, and having absolutely no idea what I wanted to say about myself or my music, and it was so much easier to speak for myself with a line from one of my songs. It’s an objection to permanence, and the assumption that a thought/idea/perspective is invariable or totally enduring.

What kind of venues do you like playing most?

We all seem to operate the most comfortably in basement scenarios. Not necessarily houses, as we haven’t played many house shows with this project, but in small, casual spaces I find it the easiest to be myself. I can’t help but feel that it is easy for something to be lost in bigger venues. I’ve felt that multiple times as a performer and also as a listener. Not that this is always the case, but it’s more of a challenge to feel closeness in those rooms. In small spaces, urgency is more clearly defined.

Does your interest in visual art fulfill a similar creative outlet as songwriting?

They have both become lower stakes for me in ways — I feel less interested in being great, and more interested in making a lot of work. I’ve had a hard time balancing both, but as we take a bit more time off this year I’ll be working towards a solo art show, my first outside of Georgia, at a small printmaking gallery in Vancouver.

Have you been playing any new songs live?

Yeah, at this point our live set has shifted almost entirely in favor of newer material. I feel that it’s important for bands to perform music that is relevant to their current mindset, rather than focus on the hits. In my opinion, you’re being better to your listeners when you perform from the gut and are totally honest about what you’re currently interested in doing musically.

Do you often find yourself pushing your own boundaries?

In ways, yes, I am getting better at this. But I also feel incredibly sheltered and that things have been easy for me. It can be so effortless and uncomplicated to rest on your laurels, and much less scary than pursuing new work. For a long time, I concentrated on documenting and archiving old work, drawings, poems, recordings, whatever, and I thought it was so important to have records of all of that. Then I realized how little I’ve accomplished. Not in a self-deprecating way, but in a very positive way that realizes how much work I have left to do, and how little it is about how the work turns out vs. the act of doing the work.

Mothers play the Earl on Wed., March 22. $12-$15. 8:30 p.m. With Big Thief 488 Flat Shoals Ave. S.E. 404-522-3950. www.badearl.com.