Sons of Bill's sibling rivalries 

Sibling rivalries may wreak havoc in countless households, but for some bands those tensions grow tenfold on stage, in tour busses and at recording studios. Sons of Bill rhythm guitarist James Wilson found himself mired in such spats while with not one but two of his brotherly bandmates as the Americana troop recorded their latest EP, Love & Logic, earlier this year.

"I'm in a band with both my brothers, and we know how to fight with each other," James says with a chuckle of writing and recording the new tunes with his siblings, Sam (the lead guitarist) and Abe (the pianist), who, along with Seth Green and drummer Todd Wellons, make up the Sons of Bill, who will perform at the Visulite Theatre on Oct. 18.

James adds that fresh professional disputes added new depth to the Wilson trio's old familial rows. "All three of us write," he says. "We all have very different influxes and visions for how we want things to go."

For instance, James says Abe is far more influenced by British classic rock like The Beatles and Pink Floyd than he will ever be. Sam, meanwhile, has a deep affinity for the true classics, studying symphonic and jazz guitar in New York before performing there in those styles for years.

"He has years of experience that I'll never have, and a knowledge and understanding that's beyond me," James says of Sam. "And Abe wrote over half of the new album himself. He's brilliant, but I don't write anything like him. So, making sense of all that, bringing it all together on one album, is not an easy thing."

Luckily, the Wilson trio managed to adopt another elder brother, of sorts, for those recording sessions. Before that mentor arrived and brokered a truce between them, James had grown all but despondent in the studio. "We recorded for two weeks, then sat down to listen and I said 'I don't know if we have anything that I want to keep,'" James says. "It was really disheartening."

Part of the problem, ironically, lay in the brothers' insular solidarity. After a falling out with their label and road manager, they had become indie in every sense of the word. This outlook extended to the recording sessions, which didn't seem like a problem — after all, Abe had produced some of Sam's solo records, and Sam had produced albums for other bands. "We thought that any one of us would be capable of doing it ourselves, of taking the reins."

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case, and their only shot at success lay in relinquishing that control. The producer who the Sons of Bill brought into the fold, Ken Coomer, former drummer for the acclaimed Chicago folk rock outfit Wilco, had plenty of experience with band infighting.

"Wilco is one of those bands that has been through the growing pains," James says, before pointing to the differences between the Chicago band's 1995 debut, AM, and its third album, Summerteeth. "There's huge creative leaps and risks happening. Ken had seen how infighting can affect a band, and how they work through it to get to new places."

Coomer says that catharsis is equally visible on Wilco's sophomore album, Being There, adding that the unhealthy touring life had taken its toll. "After our first tour — between weight gain, being away for almost 300 days and living life in general on the road — we came back ready to implode," Coomer says. "We had to power through it and keep going. We did and the next record, Being There, was by a band that had been on the road, and it showed."

Coomer relieved the Sons of Bill's anxiety by passing on anecdotes from his days in Wilco, before giving them some practical advice. "He told me to focus in on what matters with each song, not compromising but focusing in," James says of the objectivity that can ensue from such attention to detail. "Ken told us to do that and finish each song before moving on, which is something we'd never done on records before. He taught us to take each song from mic to mix, rather than jumping around between songs."

That methodical approach eventually worked. Bit by bit, note by note, the Sons of Bill found themselves making progress until they had built a shared vision. "Our last record, Sirens, was this big, brash, two-electric-guitar rock record," James says. "And we knew we didn't want to do that again, we didn't just want to make it over. But we didn't know how to approach something new. What we had to do was think about what makes a song come across."

James says the methodical approach, under Coomer's eye, helped simmer the brothers' tempers. "It allowed this record to be very egoless and collaborative," he says. "Sam let Abe play guitar on songs, and we all just sat down for a month and made the best music we could."

That rekindled joy reminded James of his earliest collaborations with his brothers, not onstage or in the studio, but certainly still as the sons of Bill, before that phrase was capitalised and official. Before they had a band name, or other band mates, they sang together constantly because their father, Bill Wilson, a theological professor and avid music geek, made music a part of their everyday lives.

"Most 12-year olds don't have to memorize Louvin Brothers songs, but we did," James says with a laugh. "Dad loved the Louvins and Hank Williams, but we didn't know who the singers were at the time. We just saw thought of them as Dad's songs. He taught us a lot about songs that have something to say. We all grew up with him singing, and that's what holds the band together at the bottom."