The Weather Station's 'Ignorance' is the Immersive, Climate-Inspired Album You Need to Hear
Plus my personal picks for the 2021 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Class
Back in October, I received an email from a publicist accompanied by a press release and a link to a new single. This happens to me literally several hundred times a week. I waited a few days until I had some free time to comb through my inbox and then clicked the link. The song was called “Robber” by a band named The Weather Station.
It. Blew. Me. Away.
I must’ve sat there and listened to “Robber” another half a dozen times before I sent a reply back to the publicist requesting a copy of the entire record. Thankfully, they hit me back with a download code almost immediately. Ignorance has been in regular rotation in the car and over the office stereo ever since.
This is probably going to come off super reductive, but as a suite of songs, Ignorance just sounds so damn good. Glistening piano progressions set the frame for a coterie of beautiful strings, off-kilter percussion, and jazzy guitar lines. Psychedelic sax solos collide into endlessly funky bass grooves. And at the very heart of it all, Tamara Lindeman’s ethereal voice waxing and waning about love and death, and the future of the freaking planet itself.
Recently, I had the opportunity to talk to the Toronto-based singer-songwriter about the existential inspiration behind Ignorance, the benefits of recording with two drummers, and how, exactly, she wrote and recorded one of the most engrossing songs I’ve heard in months.
The very first time I heard “Robber” it completely stopped me in my tracks. It's so atmospheric and there's so much depth and intricacy to it. Can you walk me through how you went about constructing that song?
It's a bit funny, but I wrote it on a child's keyboard. It's like a little Yamaha. It has like an auto-accompaniment function so, you hit a bass note and it plays that bass line in a rhythm. And it has a little drum machine that you can customize. I wrote most of the songs on the album on this thing and it was really cool because it would inform everything. It had this really bizarre beat that I think was called 16 Step or something. It was just was like a drone-y thing. I can't remember what key we wound up recording it in, but it's like having an A minor underneath and then a C and a D major on top. So, every time you hit the D major, it changes the way that the A minor feels underneath because it's dissonant. Basically, I had this keyboard giving me the auto accompaniment baseline of the underlayer, the drone underlayer chord and then I could just shuttle between those two chords.
Right, okay.
It's so simple, but playing this song on the keyboard, it just was very mesmerizing. I could just sit around and play weird, droning melody lines over those two chords all day. That was where it started. There are a few little pieces from that keyboard that I made the band play, like the drum beat is partially influenced from that and the keyboard had this wood block [sound] and I got really into that. Then I started playing it on piano myself in a much looser way and hitting the chords in interesting time. And Ben, the bass player, took some of the pieces that had originally been there, but sort of went in a more adventurous direction. Then at some point I think I must've had like a midi arrangement on the song where I kind of had an approximation of that beat and the chords, and that was where I came up with the string part.
Can you talk a little bit more about your band, and how you came together on the “Robber?”
The core bands that I like rehearse with was basically Kieran [Adams] on drums playing that very distinctive beat that he came up with, but it was sort of informed by this keyboard beat. And then Phil [Melanson] on percussion, I'm pretty sure on this song he's playing the syncopated beat that goes with the main beat on high hats I guess. And then Ben [Whiteley] on bass. I was playing piano, and I guess my keyboard player on this one, Johnny [Spence], was playing organ. So, the organ drone that was sort of like the main keyboard part. That was the track basically.
Did you have a sense early on for the form of the song?
I don't think we even had determined how long it should be or how the dynamics should be. I think we tried to pin it down a few times, but it just didn't really make sense to pin it down. We went into the studio and that day we had the addition of Brodie West on sax. He was great to bring in because he does a lot of these pentatonic riffs. I remember, he can just play really fast and he was playing more with the chords, with the C and D major. And then I just sort of hit on like, "Brodie, if you could just play a pentatonic scale instead of the major scale, it's really magical." So, he started playing in and amongst the pentatonic scale and I think he was like, "I'm actually playing a different key than you guys are." And I was like, "Oh, well it sounds awesome."
It does sound awesome!
So then, we get to the studio and we were a bit loose on this song because I thought this was like this weird song. I was like, "I don't really know what is going to become of this song. It doesn't even really sound like a Weather Station song. It doesn't even sound like what I envisioned, but I like it.
What did you originally envision? Because there are so many different sonic dynamics and instruments that weave in and out. Did you see the potential in it for that at the beginning or did it kind of just build over time?
As I recall, all the different takes we did were different. They all had different dynamics. I was even moving verses around and singing different parts. I wrote a lot of words for the song, and I'm pretty sure I just had a document with many of the words. I was like improvising where they went because I wasn't sure the order of the verses. It was a really beautiful experience of the band responding to me and responding to each other and really just coming to this place that was very dynamic and that take was the one we all chose, was the coolest.
I think the really long slow build up in the beginning was something that made it really awesome. Right after we recorded it, Kieran, Phil, and my producer, Marcus, went into the studio and recorded some of the atmospheric percussion that's overlaid over the whole song. That also gave it another layer of improvisation where it's just like there was one microphone and they were just walking around the room, picking up things and playing them. Like there's scissors and a cymbal crash and that was all just them. And then after that it was pretty much just the strings, which like I say, I had some of the pieces already in my mind. And then, I had to write the arrangements and record it. So that was kind of the next step. But it was great. That was a really long answer.
You mentioned moving words and pieces around into different verses and things. Is that normally how you write as a lyricist or do you usually have an idea in your head of what you want to say and where you want to say it?
Oh God, no, no. I'm usually very controlled. This was the only time I've ever walked into a studio without like finished [lyrics]. It's not that the lyrics weren't finished. I had several possible verses and wasn't sure which ones were the verses. I overdubbed the vocals on the song, but when we were in the studio, I was singing and playing, and I seem to recall kind of choosing what I was going to sing where in response to the band because I wasn't sure. I just wasn't sure which order they should be in and which parts needed to be said. And some of the repetition was open. I even had an outro where I kept repeating, "I never believed in the robber." But yeah, way more loose than I'm used to.
I think I read somewhere that you said with this album, Ignorance, you wanted to make a rock and roll record. How did you kind of go about doing that?
I usually say that the self-titled was where I was trying to make a rock and roll record. And this record, I was trying to make a pop record. I was trying to make like a new wave record. And I say that with a grain of salt. I still wanted it to be mine. I think that’s how I have envisioned the last few records, It's not that it's where I've been trying to go the whole time, it's that it's the right choice for the music. It's like a self-encapsulated thing.
I'm personally really an album listener. I can't wrap my head around Spotify radio where like a bunch of songs by artists jumbled up. That makes me feel crazy. I listen to albums, and this record was a vision that I had that it was just, “I'm going to try having this very propulsive drummer and the time is going to be really straight, but then it's going to have these improvises jazz organic elements on top, and it's going to be really vulnerable, but it's going to be really hard.” These were all ideas that I had. It was just a matter of accomplishing that within the confines of an album.
I've always felt a little bit of understanding like now is the moment. There's no tomorrow. You never really know if you're going to get to make another record. I think I was DIY for so long that I have a bit of a mentality in my mind of sooner or later it's going to come back to me making a record alone in my bedroom. It's going to come full circle and I'm going to have to be doing everything myself again someday, so I might as well enjoy the moment of having access.
What was it like to record with two drummers?
So, Kieran, the drummer was in the main room and then Phil Melanson, who's also a drummer, was in a booth and he was kind of full time. They were playing together all the time. Phil tended to play more percussion. He didn't have the full kit set up, but he had most of the pieces of a kit. He had like every percussion item known to man to try out and just a bunch of mics. And the way that I envisioned this record or what made it possible in my mind was this idea of everyone being in booths, which is something that I've always been super against, because I was like, "How can you feel the emotions?" But I realized that if we were all in booths, we could all be free because if you make a mistake, you're not ruining the whole take for everyone.
That's fascinating.
We were in the studio where there's like five booths and a main room. The drums were in the main room and bass was in the main room and guitar, but everything else was in booths. Phil was in his own little world. I didn't even have him in my headphones. I didn't have most things in my headphones. It was this fun thing where I'd go in the control room and I'd be like, "Wow, I didn't know what you were playing, Phil." He'd just always surprise me and I loved that. So that was really cool.
I've always fascinated by artists and bands that use two drummers. The Allman Brothers are kind of the first group that I think about that explored that dynamic. What did you find were some of the benefits and drawbacks with that process of recording two percussionists?
I just loved it as I felt like they played this beautiful yin and yang role with each other where Kieran was the one keeping time and keeping things really tight. But we had him mostly not playing high hats and symbols, for example. He was very much chained to just the time and just the beat. I wanted it to be hard. I use that word, but I guess I just mean fierce. So it was sort of like all of the looseness that I normally want in a drummer was sort of given over to Phil. Phil was playing the more loose improvisatory open-hearted responding role whereas Kieran was playing the driving role.
The other song on Ignorance I wanted to ask you about was “Parking Lot.” I really love that funky, counter-bassline. Was that another one that you wrote on the keyboard?
Yeah, also keyboard. That's why it has like the disco beat. I really love it because it reminds me a lot of Fleetwood Mac. It's like the disco beat and the softness of the song. That song, at its heart, is just a ballad. It's very vulnerable ballad. A lot of these songs I can play on piano alone and it's like a different song. The bassline, that was just a process we went through in rehearsing where Ben would be playing beautiful, thoughtful basslines and he'd be playing beautiful melodies and changing with the chords. And over and over again, I'd be like, "Can you not change yet? Can you not change yet?" It'd be two-thirds of the way through the song and he'd be like, "You still don't want me to change it?" I'm like, "Don't change."
There was something so powerful about when the bass just didn't change very much. And it was fun because Ben was on my previous record and on my previous record, I really wanted him to be like Gordon Lightfoot's bass player, who's just floating, so much melody, so much change. That's what I wanted last time. And this time I was like, "Can you just play one note for two minutes?" But it really does something to you. Especially on “Loss,” for example, where the bass just doesn't change and the tension just builds and when it does change it feels so emotional.
I'm kind of paraphrasing a bit, but is “Parking Lot” a love song for a bird? I’ve heard you describe it that way before.
It’s about loving the world. Loving a bird is the same thing. I had an experience towards the end of touring my last record where I think I was just feeling a bit of burnout and I was just really tired and I started to feel this connection with birds because they're everywhere. Everywhere you go in the world, there are birds. You can be in the heart of London and there's birds. New York, there's birds. They just became this sort of portal to softness for me. And that song is just a depiction of taking a moment to connect with something as humble as just a bird that you see in the city and taking a moment to connect with a non-human perspective changes you. For me, it brings me into my vulnerability, which is difficult sometimes. I think the song just comes out of that moment.
You did a lot of self-educating about the climate crisis before working on this album. I live in Washington state. I love the outdoors. I love nature and I really worry about the future of the Planet. I’m curious, how do you see your role as an artist in informing people and affecting change in that realm?
That's something I have thought a lot about. I don't feel like I have a ton of answers, but I read a lot. I really tried actively to get involved in activism for a while. When there was a lot going on and I engaged in all the rallies and actions that were occurring in Toronto and tried to try to show up to everything until the pandemic kind of shut it all down. I really struggled when I first started obsessing over the climate crisis, I just wanted to do everything. I was just like, "What can I do? I'll do anything." You become that person. You're just like, "I'll give up anything. I'll do anything.”
I know what you mean.
Then, you show up to the climate group meeting and they're like, "We don't know you. Thanks for coming." There's nothing you can really do. I was like, "God damn it. Why don't I have a degree politics or climate science? I wish I had a degree. I wish I was a scientist." These thoughts go through your mind. You can relate I'm sure. But the thing that I personally found the most effective was, when I first started obsessing over this, I just started posting about it on Facebook every day. I just on my personal Facebook and then it was The Weather Station Twitter. And then, I just started talking about how I felt in public. I was just like, "I feel really fucked up about this right now." And I started talking to friends and I found it shocking how powerful that was, in that everyone I knew felt the same way, but no one felt comfortable admitting it. It was so strange because I was like this is literally the story of our life. This is our reality.
It's the elephant in the room.
And we can't even talk about it to each other. I literally started a show called Elephant in the Room where I booked a venue and I interviewed people on stage about climate change and it was really interesting because everyone felt so embarrassed to express even such a simple thing as like, "This is frightening" because there's so much shame baked into that conversation in this way that there isn't with other societal issues.
How did the issue of climate change impact the music you were writing for Ignorance?
I was very torn about how to express what the songs meant and what they were about because they did all come out of this very radicalized time. I wrote “Robber” after reading about Exxon in the eighties. That was literally where it came from. And I was like, "Do I say that?" And I was afraid of if I said that would it turn into this thing where I'm writing protest music. I'm a climate activist? And I was like, "I don't think I deserve that title." There's a few climate psychologists who I follow and I read their stuff and basically there's all this research pointing to the more that people express vulnerability and their feelings about this, the more that it has an impact. I think the biggest thing I've found is just that the more vulnerable I am and the more honest I am, the better it goes over. I find I can be in a conversation with someone who doesn't agree with me at all on the policy and it works. It works a lot better than leading with the sort of purist sermon-like way that I think we were used to people talking about the subject then.
I just have one more question for you. We don't know when touring is coming back, but when we do will you take two drummers out on the road to play live?
Oh my God. I wish I could, but I don't think I'll be able to afford that. It's funny, I've thought about my band and I think about touring, but my dates that are on the calendar have been moved so many times. At this point, I'm just like I don't even know what's going to happen. I did a lot of work right before the record came out with working with my team and being like, "Okay, how can we minimize traveling? How can we make it so that it's way more efficient?" Like we're going out, but we're staying out and we're not flying as much. Like we have to fly to Europe, but we don't have to fly in North America? These sorts of questions. It's interesting. The last time I was touring, it was in a minivan and four people was the absolute max I could afford to pay and house and deal with. Maybe there's more room now. I'm not sure.
Rock And Roll Hall of Fame 2021
Last week, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame announced the 16 nominees eligible for induction into its 2021 class to the delight and dismay of thousands of people across the Internet. In case you missed it, here are the artists up for consideration this year:
Jay-Z
Iron Maiden
Foo Fighters
Mary J. Blige
Devo
The Go-Go's
Chaka Khan
LL Cool J
New York Dolls
Rage Against the Machine
Todd Rundgren
Tina Turner
Dionne Warwick
Kate Bush
Fela Kuti
I gotta say…pretty solid list of nominees. Seeing this many women and black artists getting some shine from the nominating committee is a truly encouraging development, and one that I hope continues deep into the future. Personally, I’ve never been a “Rock and Roll” traditionalist when it comes to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and the inclusion of more hip-hop, disco, African, new wave, and R&B artists is another positive sign for the institution’s continued health and viability.
All that said, I do have one qualm. While, I appreciate that the voters finally got around to inducting Nine Inch Nails last year, Soundgarden has been eligible for induction for almost a damn decade now, and has yet to get in. Now, I know what you’re probably thinking. “Of course the guy who wrote a book about Chris Cornell would get irrationally upset about this.” Well..yeah! Eric Clapton is in three times, and Kim Thayil can’t even make the ballot?? An actual travesty.
Nevertheless, while I don’t have an official ballot (yet) to make my voice heard about who should make the final cut in 2021, I do have some thoughts on the matter. So, if I did have a ballot (Rock Hall, get at me) here are the five artists I’d be throwing my weight behind this year.
New York Dolls
This one is loooooooooooong overdue. Punk and glam as we know it today wouldn’t exist if not for the outsized effort and influence of Sylvain Sylvain, David Johansen, Arthur Kane, Jerry Nolan, and Johnny Thunders. Their first two albums, New York Dolls (1973) and Too Much Too Soon (1974) are among the most visceral expressions of pure rock and roll ever committed to tape. The pure power of “Personality Crisis” should’ve gotten them in 20 years ago! It’s a real shame that they waited so long, to be perfectly honest. It would’ve been nice for Sylvain Sylvain to get his due in person. Alas…
Jay-Z
It’d be way, way, way harder to make a case for why Jay-Z shouldn’t be in the Hall of Fame than why he should. He’s one of the greatest lyricists of all-time. He’s an A&R scout with hardly any peer, a record executive, a cultural icon, a businessman AND a business man. 14 No. 1 albums. 22 Grammys. Husband to Beyoncé. He also made The Blueprint. His induction would be a massive boon to HBO’s ratings and lemme tell you something…that matters. This one is a lock. Get’cha damn hands up!
Tina Turner
Tina Turner was inducted into the Hall of Fame for the first time back in 1991 as part of the Ike & Tina duo. The man who inducted them? Phil Spector. There’s almost too much cringe involved in that earlier induction to really get into here, but long story short, Tina is one of the greatest performers in the history of popular music, and its hard to think of another artist more worthy of multiple inclusions. Here’s hoping her role in Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome gets its own, special exhibit.
Fela Kuti
Did you know that Fela Kuti is the first African artist in the 35 year history of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame to ever make it out of the nominating committee? Which means that if the voters decide to nominate him, the Nigerian Afrobeat legend will be the first African artist to be enshrined by the Hall. With mesmerizing, expansive records like Gentleman, Expensive Shit, and Why Black Man Dey Suffer, featuring Cream drummer Ginger Baker, to his name, Kuti more than deserves to break that particular glass ceiling. Hell, he almost got killed by the Nigerian military for releasing the scathing, four-track record Zombie in 1977. That’s not even mentioning the time he introduced Paul McCartney to the strongest weed of his entire life while he was making Band on the Run. An actual rock star if there ever was one.
Rage Against The Machine
The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has inducted more rock acts than they can shake a fist at. Lately, they’ve also been letting a steady stream of rap artists too. You know what they don’t have in the Hall yet? A rap-rock hybrid. Tom Morello has been on the nominating committee for years now — remember KISS’s induction? Yeah, you can thank a certain Chicago Cubs-loving guitarist for that — and seeing as how we were all deprived of what I assume would’ve been a legendary reunion tour in 2020, I think the Hall owes him and the rest of us one. I’m extremely prepared to write a strongly-worded letter against the machine endorsing their candidacy.