Interview: Tamara Lindeman (The Weather Station)

As we delve further into the technological age, the quest for meaningful connection has become an odyssey of its own. The apps that once brought us together — powering revolutions and bridging distances — have proven to be instruments of division. Meanwhile, the exponential development of Artificial Intelligence is reshaping the social landscape, making it harder than ever to define what it truly means to be human. Even the arts, which have long been the grand expression of humanity, have been corrupted by technology. Soon, if not already, we’ll need to contend with questioning if the music populating our airwaves is the work of an algorithm.

For Tamara Lindeman of The Weather Station, this existential unraveling has led to an inward journey. On the new album Humanhood, the Toronto-based singer/songwriter has shifted her lyrical focus from the grand forces shaping our world to a deeply personal exploration of identity and connection.

Following the critically acclaimed Ignorance (2021) and How Is It That I Should Look at the Stars (2022), Humanhood is a natural evolution characterized by deep contemplation and ornate arrangements. While Lindeman’s early work was rooted in folk, her sound has since transformed into something more impressionistic, recalling the atmospheric depth of Talk Talk and the poetic jazz-folk stylings of late-’70s Joni Mitchell.

Despite the struggle woven into songs like “Window,” the album’s lush orchestrations temper melancholy with a quiet, unwavering hope. And in times like these, isn’t that exactly what we need?

Currently on tour in support of Humanhood, The Weather Station will take the stage at The Grey Eagle on Monday, April 7. Ahead of the show, Asheville Stages spoke with Lindeman about the new record, the search for connection, and the ever-evolving relationship between the U.S. and Canada.

Jonny Leather: You’ll be in Asheville on April 7 — do you have any past connections to the city? And with just a short time in town, is there anything you’re hoping to experience while you’re here?

Tamara Lindeman: I don't have any particular connections with Asheville, though I think it's really beautiful and I always love being there. When I think of Asheville, I mostly think of [Tropical Storm Helene] and wonder how the city is recovering, having been through so much. I know — through my Durham/Chapel Hill connections — a lot of folks who live nearby and were affected, or drove up to help out, so it felt like something that was really close in my community. It is such a special city and I hope folks are doing OK.

JL: Humanhood has such a beautifully intricate sound — richly layered yet subtle, revealing more with each listen. How do you approach translating that depth into a live performance?

TL: I am travelling with an amazing band, plus lights and video. We've all worked really hard on the show. I think the band and show is the dream version of the music, in some ways. It brings the intricacy and complexity of the record alive. There's improvised sections and moments where we go off-piste — it feels really in keeping with the wild spirit of the record. I'm really proud of the show and feel it does the record justice.

JL: A central theme of Humanhood seems to be the struggle to forge meaningful connections. In "Neon Signs," you touch on the ironic emptiness of personalized algorithms. As an artist, do you ever feel like you’re releasing music into a void? If so, how do you push through that?

TL: Absolutely. I often reflect on how lucky I am to have come up at a time when music was still more analog, and the people who listen to my music tend to be that way as well. I have the experience of being at the merch table, talking to people night after night — I know my records are not going into a void, and I do get lots of beautiful feedback from the world in terms of the things I've made.

But the internet/algorithms really seem bent on making music feel as meaningless — and capitalist — as possible. Spotify and Meta in particular make it harder and harder to connect — to connect to music, to connect with people. I feel lucky to have established an audience before these companies took over, but I'm affected, too. It's really despiriting and can make it feel like it's not worth it for sure. If I was ever in a situation where my musical life depended on going viral — the reality for so many bands just starting out — I wouldn't do it. I would rather just do it for myself than try to navigate that heartless system.

JL: The lyrics on this album feel especially personal. Does that emotional weight ever affect how you perform these songs live?

TL: Yes, totally. This is a big show and it requires a lot from me emotionally. But I have a beautiful band to listen to every night and to travel with, and so it's not heavy. To be honest, our tour just now in Europe/UK was the most fun I've had in ages. We laugh a lot — it's a really good crew.

JL: Many musicians adopt an alternate persona to feel fully comfortable on stage. Given your background in acting, do you find yourself slipping into a character when performing? Or is that something you could see yourself exploring in the future?

TL: No, that's not what I do and that's not what I'm interested in. To me, the point of a good show is to be honest in the moment — the more you can get there, the deeper the show is. I consider that to be my job — to find a way onstage to regulate and feel in my body so I can sing and perform honestly to the people that are there.

JL: With U.S.-Canada relations at a low point, has that influenced how you think about touring in the States? Has it impacted your experiences on the road in any way?

TL: Absolutely. I thought long and hard about not coming. But ultimately, thinking of the people who have worked with me for over 10 years now — booking, promoting shows, putting out the record — it felt really wrong to let them down. There's Americans in my band and my team; I work with Americans every day. And ultimately there's so many incredible people in the U.S. I don't want to punish people for the actions of a government they did not elect and do not want. I know everyone at my shows did not choose this and are profoundly affected, to boot. It's not on me to add to that pain. 

But it's still hard. Touring in the U.S. is really hard financially, logistically, emotionally. Also, we had to pay extremely exorbitant fees for visas this time around, which was really rough — and doesn't happen anywhere else in the world. When we travel to the EU to play, there is no visa and no cost — you can play shows there with no hassles. It's draining to pay so much for visas to come play in the U.S., to say nothing of the politics, the annexation threats, the costs, and all the rest. However, as I say, I didn't want to bail on the people I work with, the audience, or my band. So, barring disaster — ever a possibility these days — we'll be there.

IF YOU GO

Who: The Weather Station with Sister Ray
When: Monday, April 7, 8 p.m.
Where: Grey Eagle Music Hall, 185 Clingman Ave., thegreyeagle.com
Tickets: $20.21 to $29.25

(Photo by Brendan George Ko)