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Folk, singer-songwriter, Toronto.


Much the same in real life as that of a recording artist, the yearning for the simpler times of earlier years can be the mountain to climb. Humanhood is the seventh album released by Tamara Lindeman in her creative guise as The Weather Station, and the evolution from those initial releases could not be more pronounced. Previously, the music was played in a simple, atypically folky idiom, cloaked in melodrama and mournfulness with frequent flashes of optimistic acoustic sunlight bursting through. Nowadays, especially following a preceding brace of reputation dismantling and critically lauded records, those days of simplicity feel long gone. Tamara, in 2025, makes music that reflects the troubled state of her psyche, but in doing so, she is also presenting albums that paint a broader picture of the human condition in the modern world.

So, in the midst of this very 21st-century malaise, we find Lindeman throwing her creative energies into music that, whilst not trying to make sense of it all, does have the effect of offering an arm around the shoulder, whispering we are all in this together. Her path through the forest is most candidly announced during the album’s closing track, Sewing, in which she sings, “All I can do is sew into this undulating thing, whatever it is I’m making with you. A life, I’ll sew in tonight, too.” It is as if she sees life’s tapestry as a quilt into which the pain and the hurt we feel are stitched together with our joys and simple pleasures to present an honest, rich tapestry as we try and move forward. It is this very real trauma that has played into her musical development; where once there were thoughts and feelings untarnished by experience and wider existential concerns, now the world around us brings an uncertainty that leaves one scrapping for something to feel hopeful about, wondering aloud where us humans fit into all this and what the hell we are supposed to do about it. If, at times, you just want to smash the whole thing up and start again, then you can be sure Tamara feels that too, for this is where she is at with her music-making. Dismantling and juggling in order to unlock new doors and perceive in a new light.

Consequently, the resulting music teases a presence in your head; it does not make an entrance through the front door. Songs are almost tickled into shape, with melodies that perform a little magic trick of sounding freshly plucked in the moment. There is a hesitancy to the sound, as there is in the vocals when Tamara sings, “Why can’t I get off this floor, think straight anymore?” at the start of Neon Signs, you can almost hear her pushing up against those floorboards. Then, the song does find its feet, positively blooming with percussion and wayward flutes in a rather reassuring manner; it is good to hear that soaring beating heart within the DNA of Weather Station music is still alive and well. Mirror is another that works from the rhythm up; in fact, there is a more than passing nod to the creative methods of Peter Gabriel with its synth textures and found sound bedding that still leaves room for sax work as free as any jazz chops. Considering these elements, it is no surprise to see a name like Sam Amidon among the album credits.

The unsettling urgency on one of the record’s highlights, Window, is akin to the audio equivalent of a panic attack. We find Tamara determined to crawl through a window, any window in fact, because the main thing she needs to find on the other side is less hurt, a new direction or a fresh perspective, anything but this. Again, this was central to the recording wherein her central core of musicians were only presented with song sketches in order to realise spontaneity and explorations within the layers of the tracks. On the title track, she sinks into Toronto’s lakeshore, looking for a re-connection with her own body and the natural world. That sense of diving and submerging is vividly captured in the enveloping, swirling sounds of the track; it can make your head spin if you let go and commit, but again, touching base with the waters underbelly also brings to mind the trauma of our ongoing climate crisis and the destabilising effect it can have on our mental equilibrium. These thoughts are never far from view on Humanhood, just as they cannot be removed from our daily lives, so in this sense, the latest Weather Station record is a sharp-edged bulletin from the 2025 frontline. Swim around in it for a while though, because deep within the waves, hope can be found, not just in the human spirit but also in the boundless forward-motion energy that creativity offers us all. Take a deep dive into our humanhood with Weather Station as your guide; there might yet be light at the end of the tunnel.

Tracks:
01. Descent
02. Neon Signs
03. Mirror
04. Window
05. Passage
06. Body Moves
07. Ribbon
08. Fleuve
09. Humanhood
10. Irreversible Damage
11. Lonely
12. Aurora
13. Sewing

Staat er compleet op, 10% pars mee gepost. Met zeer veel dank aan de originele poster. Laat af en toe eens weten wat je van het album vindt. Altijd leuk, de mening van anderen. Oh ja, MP3 doe ik niet aan.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2KwFIuyCLo