Posts Tagged ‘Tamara Lindeman’

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Tamara Lindeman aka The Weather Station made a big impression at Austin’s SXSW with the New York Times selecting her as one the 17 Acts that Stood Out. Hot on the heels of such well-deserved praise she has revealed her new video for “Impossible”. The cleverly choreographed video finds Linderman assisted in daily routine tasks by several assistants.

Shot and edited by Lindeman herself and Colin Medley she described it as “one of these late night, half asleep ideas. A sort of child-like play on free will. On the idea of habit, or how much one is controlled by unconscious ideas. On the idea of moving against–or moving with–these forces.”

The act of watching others assist (or hinder) her in simple tasks such as brushing her hair and eating breakfast is strange but the act of resistance she introduces, especially with her mobile phone which she is forced to interact with creates an uncomfortable friction that translates well through the lens and really drives home how over-complicated our lives have become.

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Tamara Lindeman was 31 years old when she recorded her latest album as the Weather Station, which is significant. “Thirty” is a song about surviving that milestone birthday, about the small moments that define that time of life: “You put your hand on the small of my back, I was surprised that you’d touch me like that.” The song builds speed and momentum, getting faster and faster with each new memory, much like life itself. And Lindeman stands in the middle of the storm, trying to make sense of one moment before the next moment hits. “That was that year, now here is another one.”

On astonishing artistic statement The Weather Station, Tamara Lindeman homes in on her rebellious core to express some of the finest musical sentiments Canada has conjured. A mood and scene-setter, Lindeman delves into the complexity of interpersonal relationships and, in particular, the tricks and treachery of soul mate communication. It’s not always easy, and neither is the Weather Station.

Often citing the writing of Steven Lambke, like he’s a mentor, Lindeman approaches language like a dancing partner but also like a foe. Often, as on the flurry of imagery that propels “Thirty” or “Kept it All to Myself,” she lets loose emotive lyrical torrents that haunt the listener.

Beyond her gift for phrasing and alluring voice, Lindeman also shows off an ear for arrangements and production here. The musicality is uniquely orchestral and sophisticated; the back-up vocalists are utilized with subtle strength. This is the Weather Station, ascending with the grace of a heron to full flight.

The Weather Station’s S/T album was released October 6th, 2017 on Paradise of Bachelors (worldwide), http://www.paradiseofbachelors.com/po… as The Weather Station, Tamara Lindeman reinvents, and more deeply roots, her extraordinary, acclaimed songcraft, framing her precisely detailed, exquisitely wrought prose-poem narratives in bolder and more cinematic musical settings. The result is her most sonically direct and emotionally candid statement to date, a work of profound urgency and artistic generosity.

The palpable freedom emanating from Tamara Lindeman’s fourth long-playing album as The Weather Station is unmistakable, and completely intentional. Stepping aside from a successful acting career, and taking the reigns in the recording studio, the Toronto-based singer/songwriter and multi-instrumentalist has crafted her most intrepid, stirring, and successful work to date. All it took was a load of gumption.

She cracks that the new album is her rock and roll record. There’s of course a grain of truth in every joke. “There was this excitement around what would happen if I blended my sensibility with that spirit,” she says. “That devil-may-care attitude.” By that she means that she had to actively work against most of her natural instincts in the studio—to be less careful, less cautious, and totally unselfconscious in her decision to stand up to male assertion. “I knew exactly what I wanted, and I just realized that it was actually better if I didn’t listen to anyone else,” she adds.

It’s an environmental reality most women have had to face. The overcoming of this quiet oppression, this subtle misogyny, becomes an unwanted career milestone—the product of a deep-rooted, male-centric ideology that remains a de facto force in creative and corporate settings. “Lord, Give Me the Confidence of a Mediocre White Man” is an oft-memed phrase for a reason.

Lindeman explains that she’s never worked with a female producer, and in her experience men in that role exude finality in their point of view, often ignoring the artist’s input altogether. As a self-proclaimed introvert and someone to whom leadership does not come naturally, she adds that she had to tap into her acting chops to construct a reality where her opinions of her own work negated outside input. She adds that men have a keen ability to make their opinion seem like the truth. “But in the end, that’s just one opinion, that’s how it sounds to you,” she says. “I just had to pretend to myself that my opinions were the Word of God.”

The new, self-titled album’s eleven songs unfold and build upon one another like chapters in a captivating memoir. They’re moving yet unsentimental, welcoming listeners aboard a passenger train between heart, brain, and larynx.

“I just had to pretend to myself that my opinions were the Word of God.”

“All these years I have followed you / It never occurred to you to follow me,” she sings on album opener “Free.” The song acts as a mission statement, the trailhead of a path through introspection and liberation, surrounded by swaying guitar, stringed breezes, and chirping piano. It’s familiar and yet deeply personal, merging universal truth and individual experience. It describes the making of the record, and the feeling throughout the end result. It’s a painful realization—and a battle cry.

Like any great book, the LP’s effortless quality comes from a mastery of craft. Each song has a stream-of-consciousness quality, but in fact endures rounds of re-imagining and revision. Lindeman begins with a germ, a seed of a song, and incubates it by recording different, largely spontaneous versions on the theme with just guitar and voice. She plays them back, transcribes them, and then fuses together her favorite parts for a finished song.

Album standout “Impossible” began with what became its apex: the line “I guess I got the hang of it, the impossible.” She knew immediately that the very loaded observation deserved a wider exploration. Despite the universality of the song’s crux, she sought a very personal narrative to surround it. An early version didn’t tap far enough into any specific place in time, and ended up on the cutting room floor. “It doesn’t feel right if I write a song that’s too vague,” she says. “All the lyricists I admire have moments where it’s universal and moments where it’s specific. There’s a perfect balance that I’m always striving for.”

Like any red-blooded Canadian, Lindeman cites Leonard Cohen as a lyrical hero, but with a caveat. “Bob Dylan is also the best,” she says. “Leonard is better in a lot of ways, and I think he’s the best, but you need Bob, too.” She also mentions Canadian compatriots of the contemporary music scene in the same breath. Artists like Jennifer Castle have inspired her own free-form approach to songcraft, which emphasizes lyrical narrative, rhythmic phrasing, and organic instrumentation over traditional verse-chorus formatting. It’s a signature mark of artists like Joni Mitchell and Mary Margaret O’Hara, and one increasingly present in the new age of singer/songwriters like Lindeman, who deftly manages to work a multitude of cohesive feelings, ideas, and actual words into her songs.

When asked about her approach to phrasing, her voice piques with excitement. “People don’t talk about phrasing, but it’s so key,” she explains. She adds that while she doesn’t have a deep knowledge of the canon, rap music has influenced the quality of her sung words. “You can’t help but notice the ingenuity pouring out of that genre right now,” she says. “What people are doing in rap is much more distinctive than what people are doing in folk music… Having rap permeate the culture has really affected me.”

For an album with a remarkable series of firsts, from self-producing to string arranging, The Weather Station spins like a classic work from a storied professional, steeped in equal parts confidence, grace, and duende—that intangible spirit of passion. And all this despite disapproving forces in the studio. “There were people around me who didn’t like the record,” Lindeman says. “I was like, ‘OK, I gotta see this through.’” The result is a triumph of character and expression. A singular vision swimming upstream in a sea of know-better.

Sometimes I feel like this record is one of the biggest risks I’ve taken in my life. But it’s the kind of risk that’s a necessity, so it doesn’t feel risky at all. From the moment the album appeared in my mind, it knew where it was going – my job was just to clear the path.
In a time of intense uncertainty, it felt good to harness a spirit of recklessness, which sometimes is the only thing that can stand up to the anxiety you would otherwise feel.
This record is about staring down dark things and seeing them fully, which isn’t the same thing as acceptance. It’s just a necessity in and of itself, and something that can empower.
It’s also about playing music with my friends, love, ideas, and everything else that chose to tumble onto the page over the last year and a half.
I’m so proud to be able to bring it to you today.  Tamara Lindeman The Weather Station.

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Julien Baker’s 2015 debut Sprained Ankle earned her spare, intimate songwriting a passionate following. The title track is as close to indie classic status as a song that’s hardly two years old can be, meaning fans have eagerly awaited new material since Baker announced she’d signed to Matador Records earlier this year. She’s announced her sophomore album and first full-length for MatadorTurn Out the Lightswhich arrives October 27th.

Alongside the album announcement comes “Appointments,” the album’s second song and a slow, twinkly setting for Julien Baker’s signature confessional hush. listen to the song below,

Stranger in the Alps artwork

L.A. singer-songwriter Phoebe Bridgers’ debut LP is a collection of songs about intimacy, documenting how our relationships affect the way we view ourselves and interact with others.

Phoebe Bridgers’ career has been propelled by fellow musicians. Ryan Adams, Conor Oberst, and Julien Baker have all sung the praises of the 23-year-old Los Angeles singer-songwriter, leading up to her full-length debut Stranger in the Alps. Fittingly, the album itself is also populated by other artists: Bridgers writes about lost legends like Bowie and Lemmy down through the local hobbyists who haunt their hometowns like ghosts in faded band tees. In “Scott Street,” she reads into how an old flame tells her his drums are “too much shit to carry.” In “Motion Sickness,” one of the year’s most exquisite breakup anthems, she lands her harshest jab in the chorus: “Hey, why do you sing with an English accent? I guess it’s too late to change it now.”

Stranger in the Alps is a collection of songs about intimacy, documenting how our relationships affect the way we view ourselves and interact with others. The crux of Bridgers’ writing arrives in small details: a casual exchange of words, a song played on a long car ride, the moments we relive in our heads once we get back home. Bridgers’ voice has a breezy, conversational flutter that helps her stories of heartbreak and loss avoid morbidity. She sounds best when she double-tracks it in layers of light falsetto: an effect that, depending on what she’s singing, can sound sweet and soothing or scalding like feedback

The Weather Station is the fourth—and most forthright—album by The Weather Station, the project of Toronto songwriter Tamara Lindeman. Her most fully realized statement to date, it is a work of profound urgency, artistic generosity, and joy. Self-titled and self-produced, the album unearths a vital new energy from Lindeman’s acclaimed songwriting practice, marrying it to a bold new sense of confidence.

“I wanted to make a rock and roll record,” Lindeman explains, “but one that sounded how I wanted it to sound, which of course is nothing like rock and roll.” The result is a spirited, frequently topical tour de force that declares its understated feminist politics, and its ambitious new sonic directions, from its first moments. On past records, Lindeman has been a master of economy. Here her precisely detailed prose-poem narratives remain as exquisitely wrought as ever, but they inhabit an idiosyncratic, sometimes disorderly, and often daring album that feels, and reads, like a collection of obliquely gut-punching short stories.

Her previous album Loyalty was recorded at La Frette Studios in France in the winter of 2014 with Afie Jurvanen (Bahamas) and Robbie Lackritz (Feist). Nominated for the 2015 Polaris Music Prize, it earned praise from The Guardian, Pitchfork, NPR Music, Uncut, and MOJO, among many others, who celebrated its delicate, carefully worded verse, filled with double meanings, ambiguities, complex metaphors, and rich details of the everyday.

The Weather Station’s S/T album is out October 6th, 2017 on Paradise of Bachelors (worldwide), Outside Music (Canada), & Spunk Records (AU/NZ).

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Canadian singer-songwriter Tamara Lindeman, Aka The Weather Station has announced plans to release her forth studio album on the 6th October. On her fourth (and tellingly self-titled) album as The Weather Station, Tamara Lindeman reinvents, and more deeply roots, her extraordinary, acclaimed songcraft, framing her precisely detailed, exquisitely wrought prose-poem narratives in bolder and more cinematic musical settings. The result is her most sonically direct and emotionally candid statement to date, a work of profound urgency and artistic generosity.
“Timeless… Measured, perceptive storytelling. A singer with an unmistakable & communicative voice, able to convey hope & hurt with equal clarity.” – Pitchfork
“She writes literate songs with unusual precision & sings them in an understated, open-hearted way that lends good poetry the directness of conversation.” – Uncut
The self-titled album sees The Weather Station channelling a new, more energetic sound.  To be released on Paradise of Bachelors Records.

“I wanted to make a rock and roll record,” Lindeman explained, “but one that sounded how I wanted it to sound, which of course is nothing like rock and roll.”

The first single from The Weather Station is the wonderful “Thirty”

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Paradise of Bachelors is a Record Label, Plus Archive located in the North Carolina Piedmont and in the subluminal aether of Chapel Hill, they has spent the past few years building its reputation as one of the finest labels around for traditionally minded North American music. If they’re putting it out, its worth listening. On May 12th, They will release The Weather Station new Album Loyalty“,  The Weather Station is Toronto’s Tamara Lindeman  This her third album titled Loyalty”  recorded in a 19th century mansion outside Paris. Like that studio, or memorable art, the record seems to exist outside time. “I saw recently the works of Mary Pratt, a Newfoundland artist who spent most of her life as a housewife—her husband was a successful painter,” Lindeman said “Her paintings depict domestic scenes—jelly in jars, cod fillets in aluminum foils, a salmon head in a sink, but in such rich, elaborate detail, it’s painful somehow. I guess when I see her paintings, I realize that I’m trying to do the same thing, with my music.

“Shy Women,” a perfect example of her attentiveness to minute, universalizing details. “It started the same as most my songs do—a small, commonplace moment that I couldn’t get out of my head,” There was something about it, so ordinary that it begged to be described, and describing it felt powerful somehow—simply to say that it was important, this common place thing—worth singing about. And as I did, the moment revealed itself as a kind of elevator shaft, going pretty much straight down, through all the ‘shyness’ of myself and many of the women I grew up with, and all the moments when we had kept silence, and how that silence has underpinned so much that is deeply wrong.”

One of the great lines in “Shy Women” is: You were staring out, your eyes real straight, like nothing touches you these days/ It seemed to me that luxury would be to be not so ashamed. She explained a bit: “When I say it would be a ‘luxury to be not so ashamed,’ I mean that completely. Shame is, for most women, a constant companion, and is I think the last greatest gender divide, that will be with us for as long as women feel their experience is not worth speaking of, and blame themselves for the actions and feelings of others.” Below, it adds up to a remarkable song.

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The Weather Station is the project of Toronto’s Tamara Lindeman, a musician I was first heard of when she collaborated with Will Stratton. She compelled me immediately. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one who felt that way considering Lindeman just signed with label Paradise Of Bachelors, the storied,this singer songwriter and folklore-focused and a label that plucked artists like Hiss Golden Messenger, Steve Gunn, from relative obscurity and gave them a national stage.

Now, they’ve invested in the Weather Station, and a few listens of her third full-length record “Loyalty” indicate that their impeccable taste is intact. Recorded just outside Paris at La Frette Studios last winter, Loyalty is imbued with the crisp intimacy of the coldest season, the allure of the city of lights. Tamara Lindeman’s voice floats by in the highest of registers of her voice, never breathy but, instead, misty and amorphous.
On the record she plays guitar, banjo, keys, and vibraphone, but like most artists who take the folk music tack with any success, it’s Lindeman’s songwriting that catches your attention and holds it. She’s clever without any smugness, rendering every day events into existential pictures of uncertainty, poking and prodding at subconscious desires without ever fully exposing them.

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Take album opener “Way It Is, Way It Could Be,” for example. Lilting along the twin lines of quickly picked acoustic guitar and a linear, electric guitar backbone, it’s one of the more upbeat tracks on the record. Ostensibly a journey through winter, the song investigates the ambiguity that lives with us as long as we’re here on earth: “The way it is and the way it could be both are.” In Lindeman’s capable hands, this is neither a blessing or a curse. It’s the mark of a good songwriter to force us to keep two futures in mind at once, never letting on if either of them exist at all.

 

 

 

The Weather Station is  Tamara Lindeman who has a new EP out a 6 song limited edition “What Am I going To do with Everything” recorded with members of Megafaun in North Carolina, Finger picked guitars and harmonies unexpected stray snare drums and the occasional electric guitar Also a new album release with members of Feist and Bahamas titled “Loyalty” should be released later this year.

Check out The Weather Station and a  collection of Duets released on Bandamp, with Marine Dreams, Daniel Romano and Baby Eagle,

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