(Photo by Jeff Bierk)
The pre-gig observation that the stage has been adorned with three monolith sculptures, that on closer inspection appear to be replica Easter Island statues, brings with it a foreshadowing of the triadic themes of tonight’s show. These monoliths also represent something of an elegant stillness on par with the pensive sonics offered up by The Weather Station. As prompted by Ontario born frontwoman and songwriter Tamara Lindeman’s spoken word passages throughout – atop her bandmates’ experimental fusion of loungey, electro folk/jazz – she breaks the show up into three parts.
Part one, as we learn via Lindeman’s comments later, is purposed to “get out all the heavy shit first.” Opener ‘Wear’ is a grand, darkly tinged ballad that has Lindeman struggling to connect with an indifferent world (“It does not matter to the world if I embody it/It could not matter less, I wanted to be a part of it.”) ‘Neon Sign’, incorporating crisp drums and the excellent Karen Ng’s jazzy interludes of clarinet, is the first instance where Lindeman’s deeper, speak-sing diversion from the staple of her faultless soprano has her sounding very similar to Laura Marling.
The metronomic drumbeat and pensive keys of ‘The Robber’, wherein Ng’s saxophone rises as the focal point of an instrumental break before nicely fading back into the moody dynamic, completes part one on a strong footing. In an experimental coda, Lineman falls to her knees – ostensibly to manipulate her guitar pedals – while Ng delves into manic, avant garde salvos of saxophone.
Aside from a few routine declarations of gratitude, Lindeman’s interaction with the audience is in the format of the spoken word transitions between the partitioned themes. Part one, she tells us, is about “disconnection, confusion” while said confusion is a passage to eventual connection – the theme of part two. This manifests in the relative breeziness of the keyboard led ‘Lose’ and, presumably by design, the hitherto darkened stage is bathed in light. By the time we get to ‘Atlantic’, the form of the blackly clad Ng is finally visible as she oscillates between saxophone and clarinet.
Part three appears to be about embrace and acceptance with Lindeman stating that “in order to touch, you need to let yourself be touched.” The sparse arrangement of the first tune therein, ‘Ribbon’, offers a platform upon which Lindeman’s main weapon, that of her impressive, studio equalling voice, can be best appreciated. The stage setting, meanwhile, transforms into something appealingly autumnal as trees are projected onto the replica stones, and spots of green light pepper the stage.
The audience remains so respectfully quiet that, during a particularly subdued moment, we hear someone fumble a plastic beer cup at the bar. However, considering Lindeman’s music – delicate and lyrically introspective – one doesn’t really expect any Wednesday night rowdiness. Despite Lindeman’s obvious vocal and lyrical aplomb, and her bandmates’ elegant embellishment of her tunes, such a contemplative approach can occasionally be attention straining.
However, one can certainly appreciate the sonically brighter moments and occasional bursts into a distinct chorus melody; ‘Humanhood’ is driven by a purposeful keyboard motif, more rapid sax from Ng, before breaking out into a standout chorus. The upbeat ‘Parking Lot’ has a lovely and catchy keyboard riff and is perhaps the closest the band get to a bona fide pop song.
A single song encore has Lindeman introduce ‘Sewing’ as the track from recent album Humanhood “that means the most to me.” Within its dense lyricism, it appears to be contemplating the contrary fortunes that necessarily constitute a life: “I’m sewing together a year/From boredom, from love, from fear.” Incidentally, an early song sneeze that briefly disrupts her vocal delivery has one amazed that this doesn’t occur on stage more frequently.
Unusually, Lindeman and her band have performed all thirteen tracks from Humanhood, released in January this year. It’s probably one for the real fans. For those already versed and invested in her songs and lyrics, and not meeting with such a contemplative style in real time, tonight would no doubt have been a treat.
Scott Hammond