|The Weather Station|
|What Am I Going to Do with Everything I Know (EP)|
The Weather Station — What Am I Going to Do with Everything I Know (EP)
•• Intimita Tamary Lindeman je bezkonkurenční. Je tak pozorná k detailu, jak bylo zjištěno v jejích textech, až to je uchvacující. Není to pocit smutku, který je ochromující, ale má to pevně pod kontrolou, drží sílu každé písně, a tato síla říká, že Tamara je inteligentní skladatelka. Jsou tady emoce, které nás všechny spojují.
•• Loyalty, A new full–length album from The Weather Station is already in the can, and features collaborations with Afie Jurvanen of Bahamas and Robbie Lackritz (Feist). The LP is slated for a 2015 release.
•• Toto EP je společnou práci s Magafaun a Danielem Romanem. S Romanem ve svém Welland Studiu a Megafaun v Severní Karolíně, Lindeman vytvořila jedinečnou, samo–obsažnou kolekci, která má tři vzájemně propojené písně na každé straně EP: Strana A je meditace na téma poznání, zatímco strana B je příběh..., o lásce ve třech částech.
Birth name: Tamara Lindeman
Location: Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Album release: October 16, 2014
Record Label: You've Changed
1 Don't Understand 3:04
2 What Am I Going to Do (with Everything I Know) 2:31
3 Seemed True 3:23
4 Soft Spoken Man 3:11
5 Time 2:51
6 Almost Careless 2:12
By Grayson Currin; October 17, 2014; Score: 8.1
•• The climax comes so quickly and so quietly that you may never detect it at all. In the final minute of “Almost Careless”, the near–whispered lilt that closes The Weather Station’s splendid six–song EP, What Am I Going to Do with Everything I Know, Tamara Lindeman stumbles upon one of the most important questions she may ever ask, simply while walking to the park. During a momentary break in the gentle supporting rhythm, she remembers what she posed to the boy whose gloved hand she held: “‘What if we get married?’” she sings, her voice cracking into an audible smile as she climbs the final word’s syllabic slope. “I said it almost careless, as though it was nothing to me.” Lindeman, her sudden fiancé and the band behind her treat the peak with equitable nonchalance. He blushes and nods, she narrates, and they turn and walk, the pedal steel between her voice and the drums guiding the pair like a soft flashlight. Instead of Hallmark strings, Lindeman gives her tremendous moment the deference of restraint.
•• That same subtle and balanced approach defines all of What Am I Going to Do, a 17–minute record that finds Lindeman moving from abject loneliness to impending marriage without ever becoming loud, fast or bothered. The Weather Station’s terrific 2011 LP, All of it Was Mine, used similar understatement to offer an elliptical picture of love fracturing, with the changing seasons turning innocent sweetness into hard–won self–sovereignty. But these short and intertwined tunes portray the stepwise process into love. They seem, however, written and played from a distance, so that the butterflies and doubts have settled into a graceful, logical arc. Lindeman’s voice flits and cracks, peaks and valleys, comforts and cries, not unlike that of Joni Mitchell. But she possesses the unwavering patience of Bill Callahan’s later records, delivering every word and worry like she’s pondered it all into acceptance.
•• On opener “Don’t Understand”, she worries that she’s “irreversibly free,” or forever alone, as she tries to sleep on a stranger’s couch. But over drums brushed so softly and organ played so faintly you might mistake them for a ghost in the studio’s machines, she states the scene without mourning it — it’s only her reality. Only four tracks later, when things turn serious with the quiet boy who’s just moved in, Lindeman lists the worries that most young lovers encounter: Will it get boring? Will it get tough? Will it survive? Her perennially soft voice flirts with hardness here, a whiff of irritation coming through as he makes jokes when she wonders this stuff aloud. But still, she seems mollified by the relative stranger’s presence, her mind eased by his casual calm. In the last verse, two backup singers rise to meet Lindeman with country–soul harmonies, as if to say “everyone’s been here.” Assured again, Lindeman lets the song fade into the resolve of a final, firm piano chord.
•• What Am I Going to Do actually stems from two sessions in separate countries, a testament to Lindeman’s consistent vision for these songs and her material at large. •• She cut “Don’t Understand” and “Seemed True,” the album’s romantic centerpiece, in North Carolina, with a crew that included members of Megafaun and Hiss Golden Messenger. The rest was made back in Ontario with Daniel Romano, the songwriter, multi–instrumentalist and producer who helmed All of it was Mine, too. But these tracks all feel uniform and effortless, like first takes captured in real–time by a band that has lived the story just like Lindeman. For songs so intimate, and performances so inward, such careful singularity feels like a remarkable feat.
•• Lindeman first came into the public eye as an actress, a biographical note that may help explain why her songs have always felt so filled with detail, like a perfectly planned shot in a meticulous production. On All of it was Mine, for instance, she surveyed her domain with a botanist’s eye — “muddy white petunias, lobelia trails blue-eyed” — and immortalized her grandmother’s virtues with one line: “It was good to sit together, on her couch of seafoam green.” But Lindeman’s earlier work felt like a life seen from some art–house distance, where questions about motivations and meanings remained in the spaces between shots. While What Am I Going to Do isn’t so obvious as to be pedantic or cloying, it embraces the familiar and linear in a way that Lindeman’s work never has. This time, she asks the questions for us, like why she’s fallen in love, if it’s moving too fast, or if this might end with rings and legal documents. And then she commits, for the first time on tape, to the unknown and ends the album with at least one answer — an accepted marriage proposal. “Then we turned across the park’s expanse, open fields of last year’s grass,” her voice confides, tracing her private joy, “heading back with one question less than we started out with.” It is, for now, The Weather Station’s very subtle peak.
•• The Weather Station was born in a closet.
•• One day, Tamara Lindeman sat down to make music she had never heard. Using her banjo, her voice, a borrowed microphone, and a selection of percussive household items, Tamara taught herself to write, then to record. Slowly she cut together her musical exploration of loss and everything that comes along with it.
•• The urgings of friends led to the assembly of a five piece band. With banjo, mandolin, violin, and other wooden wonders, they re–interpreted her music, both broadening it and strengthening it as they brought it out into the world of live performance.
•• This is music about landscapes, both broad and cramped; the running away and the running to; high winds and crushing distance; bracken and tundra and bush. This is music for the east coast, for urban confusion and rural absolutes. It began as music about sadness, but it has always been propelled by fierce determination.
This is music that Tamara Lindeman can no longer contain.
•• All Of It Was Mine, the second record by The Weather Station, was released on tiny but beloved Canadian label You’ve Changed Records (The Constantines, Daniel Romano). Despite its modest release, the songcraft of Tamara Lindeman found admirers across the country. She toured as handpicked opener for Bahamas, Basia Bulat, Jason Collett, Siskiyou, and played festivals such as Hillside, Sappyfest, Dawson City Music Festival, Wolfe Island, and many more. She toured the USA, played NC’s Hopscotch Music Festival, and most recently, toured Japan. She has also been in demand as collaborator, appearing on new records by Doug Paisley (Warner), Field Report (Partisan), Will Stratton (Post Empire), Siskiyou (Constellation), and Daniel Romano (New West), among others.
•• Lindeman has always been a songwriter’s songwriter, earning accolades for her delicate, carefully worded verse, filled with double meanings, complex metaphors, and rich details of the everyday. Her work has been covered by Pitchfork, The Globe and Mail, Toronto Star, and many more, and has been spun on CBC, BBC, NPR, and college radio. Her new project, a series of duets with local songwriters, was nominated for the 2013 SOCAN songwriting prize.
•• Her third record, entitled Loyalty, was recorded in France in the winter of 2014. A collaboration with Afie Jurvanen (Bahamas) and Robbie Lackritz (Feist) the record will be released in 2015
•• “A perfectly tuned gem of whispered emotion” — The Toronto Star
•• “New folk of the highest order.” — Exclaim
•• “Lindeman possesses something special, something never quite tangible, something quite gentle, in fact… this release shows once again that the well of her talents runs very deep, and currently, also very full.” — Torontoist
•• “Lindeman takes a big leap towards establishing herself as a dependably wistful and thought–provoking folk artist, equally skilled with banjo, melody and poetry.” — The Grid
•• “Lindeman has an uncanny ability to convey helplessness, sorrow, despair, hopefulness, anticipation, hesitation and longing in a single breath.” — Quick Before It Melts
“The Weather Station doesn’t spare a note or sentiment here, resulting in a stunning half–hour of bittersweet folk that stands alongside the year’s very best.” — Skeleton Crew Quarterly
•• “There’s a grace here that can only come from someone who’s solved the workings of their own mind and, in turn, allowed this to be reflected in the music. A beautiful simplicity that’s timeless.” — The Liminal (UK)
INTERVIEW, Patrick Grant, April 15, 2010
Reviewed by Laura Stanley, October 16, 2014
Top Tracks: “Don’t Understand,” “What Am I Going To Do (With Everything I Know)”
Artscape, Gibraltar Point Artscape.
•• “Není to dobrý zpěvák, ale je to neuvěřitelný zpěvák. Nejhorší tendence mladých lidí je snaha vyzpívat všechno a více než to, ale jeho výraz je tak dokonalý. Jeho hlas je ideální kanál pro jeho texty. Má velké pochopení pro toto: “Umím napsat text ale neumím to zazpívat. Můj hlas se na to nehodí. Ale existují i jiné věci, a můj hlas dělá totéž. Pokud nemůžete zpívat, znamená to pravděpodobně, že text není pravdivý.”” Photo credit: Kirsten White
|The Weather Station|
|What Am I Going to Do with Everything I Know EP|
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