by David Wilikofsky
“Robber”, the opening track on The Weather Station’s latest album Ignorance, is a statement. Over a lush and complex instrumental track, Tamara Lindeman sings about the invisible forces that have shaped the world, consolidating power for themselves while disenfranchising others. Saxophone, strings and piano all enter into the mix at one point or another, creating the most expansive and politically charged song from the project to date. It’s also a harbinger of things to come. Ignorance expands The Weather Station’s universe, both musically and lyrically, to make music that feels as big as the world it describes.
Looking back at Lindeman’s discography, there’s an obvious sonic restlessness. Each record has built on the sounds of its predecessors while managing to sound distinct. The guitar centric singer-songwriter fare of Loyalty mutated into the more muscular folk rock of 2017’s The Weather Station, and Ignorance represents an even larger leap forward, incorporating elements of soft jazz and sophisti-pop into the mix. It’s certainly the most pop forward thing she’s done, but it’s far from straightforward. The instrumentals feel almost organic, each track containing different musical strands that coalesce and grow into one. It’s the most vast and cinematic Lindeman’s music has ever felt.
Ignorance is both a breakup album and an exploration of the state of the world. Lindeman became interested in climate change while writing the album, but rather than being a political statement the album explores what it means to exist in a world that may soon become uninhabitable. The natural world is a constant throughout the album, whether in the form of sunlight streaming through a window, a stunning sunset or a bird flying through the air. There’s also a clear awareness that it all could disappear at any time; while looking out at that sunset in “Atlantic”, Lindeman’s mind floats to the fragility of it all. “Thinking I should get all this dying off of my mind / I should really know better than to read the headlines / Does it matter if I see it? / Why can’t I just cover my eyes?” she sings. Even the seemingly more straightforward relationship songs take on a deeper meaning in this context. In “Separated”, Lindeman sings “Separated by all the things you thought you knew / Separated by all the words you did not choose / Separated by the results you can’t disprove“; it can be read as a description of toxic interpersonal dynamics as easily as a fundamental difference in worldview between two partners. In this age of disinformation the lyrics hit especially hard.
Lindeman has always had a talent for laying bare the raw emotion in small, seemingly inconsequential moments, and this happens again and again throughout the album. Watching a bird fly in a parking lot turns into a meditation on deep sadness. A late night drive becomes a reflection on a failed relationship. It’s been a through line in her discography even as her sound evolves, and it’s what continues to give her writing its power. Given her stellar track record I’m hesitant to call this her best album yet, but it’s as strong as anything else she’s put out to date while also being her most accessible effort. If there’s any justice, this is the album that will break her through to a wider audience.