The Weather Station

A soul-baring album it may be, but The Weather Statio's forecast is still bright and breezy. [Dec 2017, p.113]

These songs--even the quiet ones--are bold, messy, unflinching, humming with life. [No. 147, p.61]

Tense and uncertain, The Weather Station will keep you tuning in.

The Weather Station inhabits the intersection of personal and polished like few albums can.

She finds new ways to bring her words to life, backed by a band with more urgency and energy than ever before.

The Weather Station is a model example of expanding an act’s sound without losing sight of what made them great to begin with.

There’s plenty to unpack lyrically, too, which makes it ideal for a headphones listen. You know, not unlike Blue or Court And Spark.

The Weather Station is Lindeman's loosest, most confident album yet, but it may also prove to be her most deeply psychological; she doesn't hold back.

There are moments of ‘saneness and plainness’ on the album, but these are only short, giddy moments. The great bulk of material on it plays under the assertion that one conclusion, or one reading of a situation is impossible. Great works contain multitudes, and that is exactly what you’ll get here.

Her pearlescent, Joni Mitchell-style voice and feel are the clearest yet. [Nov 2017, p.101]

But it’s when she cuts loose from the serene guitar-voice template also favoured by her like-minded collaborator Bahamas (whose Afie Jurvanen is credited as “senior advisor” here) that the album really shines. Lush strings (arranged by Lindeman) bring a new richness to the songwriting, while upbeat tracks like Kept It All To Myself and Complicit showcase more playful vocal turns (the latter closing with a choir of layered vocals) and dense, twangy melodies.

The album is streaked through with intelligent string orchestrations that don’t feel bolted onto the songs to pad out or prettify them but increase their psychological intensity.