THE WEATHER STATION - Humanhood

It's been a full fifteen years since the shy, self-released debut of The Weather Station project ("The Line"), a journey that finds further points of interest with the eighth album "Humanhood".

Having set aside the hyperrealism and folk-poetry rawness of her early work, Tamara Lindeman has gradually shifted her approach to songwriting, moving from guitar to piano for the making of the little gem "Ignorance", before embracing a more articulate and structurally complex vision.

In this evolution from folksinger to composite author, it was only natural to move from the vibrant interplay of words and music in the style of Blue" by Joni Mitchell to the sultry, enveloping jazz-folk of "Hejira". But, despite the predictable connections to the most influential woman in rock music, The Weather Station project has emancipated itself to the point of becoming a reference point in its own right for the current folk-rock scene.

That Lindeman's artistic qualities were elaborate and complex became even more evident after the release of "Ignorance"'s twin record, "How Is It That I Should Look At The Stars", a work as spare as it is intense.

What is certain is that the restless, erudite songs of the Toronto artist need room to breathe sonically, and this is where the musicians now fully part of the project come into play, coming from jazz and the Canadian experimental music scene: Kieran Adams, Ben Boye, Philippe Melanson, Karen Ng and Ben Whiteley, along with co-producer Marcus Pequin.

"Humanhood" lays bare the reflections and doubts posed by everyday reality, yet the songs offer no answers or simplifications; rather, they feed on light and darkness in equal measure, with a breathtaking honesty.

Annulment and emotional redemption are the common thread of an album where metaphor and real life move in sync, often instilling in the listener a feverish sense of chaos. The whirlwind of jazz-tinged rock-blues harmonies in "Neon Signs" is a perfect starting point for "Humanhood" (though the album is actually opened by the brief instrumental "Descent"); the song's rhythmic drive is radiant, so it falls to the lyrics to plant the seeds of fear, raising yet another cry of dismay at humanity's collapse caused by the glittering, deceitful nature of urban life. From the closing tail of "Neon Signs", as piano, electronics and the icy presence of the flute fade away, the door opens onto the aching, almost funky nature of "Mirror", a song that highlights an attention to arrangement increasingly rare in contemporary production, one that wouldn't look out of place on a modern "The Nightfly", fittingly chosen as the album's definitive lead single (the video will be released on January 14th, three days before "Humanhood").

Increasingly detached from lo-fi logic, The Weather Station's music is marked by an impressive quality of instrumental structure, an element that emerges forcefully in the splendid ambient-pop-funk weave of "Body Moves" and in the even more intense jazz, hip-hop and noir phrasing of "Irreversible Damage", the latter one of the first gems of the year just begun, a concentrate of technique and inspiration that truly leaves its mark.

The aching melancholy marked out by the delicate minimalism of "Ribbon" and the damp beauty of the swaying title track are two creative poles that are only seemingly distant, both made fluid by the recurring image of water, a metaphor for the fluid nature of the unconscious that Lindeman has stated is a fundamental element of this latest album.

Born out of two live sessions recorded in late 2023 and later completed with significant outside contributions – Sam Amidon, James Elkington, Joseph Shabason – "Humanhood" is an album that tells of a multifaceted emotional reality: Tamara Lindeman is an artist in constant evolution, and these songs are full of candour and a desire to understand the roots of our suffering as well as our joys. It has indeed not been an easy period for the Canadian songwriter, who has struggled with mental health issues, and "Humanhood" is the far-from-easy path of redemption toward hope.

With the devastating noir beauty of "Lonely", the artist lays bare her personal anxieties and fears, which for a moment seem to have no chance of being healed; but it takes just an instant, the 97 seconds of "Aurora", to reclaim one's dreams and thus make sense of the dichotomy that shakes everyday life, and that's exactly what happens in the album's delicate final chapter. The frankness of the gentle ballad "Sewing" is liberating, almost healing; everything takes on meaning, just as the continuous interlocking of harmonies, rhythms and sonic counterpoints of "Humanhood" turns fear, awareness and pain into a shared and necessary experience for overcoming the hardship of living.

This extraordinary narrative of chaos is cleverly underpinned by a musical structure in which everything becomes a single whole: banjo, synth, drum machine, flutes, piano, percussion, strings and mellotron merge together, losing their original identity, and the result is enchanting. With "Humanhood", The Weather Station closes one chapter while simultaneously opening up further prospects for the future, a role peculiar to those albums destined to withstand the test of time. These are songs that may not be easy to love on first listen, but their blend of chaos, anguish and pain will leave no one unmoved.

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03/01/2025