The internet seems to be listening to The Line and here's some things that folks have to say so far.
http://www.herohill.com/2009/04/reviews-weather-station-line.htm
http://rnrnonsense.toomanyvoices.com/2009/03/review-weather-station-line.html
http://www.soundproofmagazine.com/Canada/Albums/The_Weather_Station_-_The_Line.html
http://staergetaleht.blogspot.com/2009/03/why-fck-is-no-one-in-america-blogging.html
Full texts:
http://rnrnonsense.toomanyvoices.com/2009/03/review-weather-station-line.html
Review: The Weather Station - The Line
Label: self-released (distributed by Fontana North/Universal)
Released: April 28, 2009
Terms like lo-fi and DIY have become quite commonplace these days. Unfortunately, these terms are often applied to music that could also be described as contrived or just rotten. The Weather Station is certainly the epitome of both of those common terms, but not of the descriptions which often destroy them.
The Weather Station is both a band and not a band at the same time. Really, it is self-taught multi-instrumentalist Tamara Lindeman with a revolving cast of characters (including her live band). Recorded in bedrooms and living rooms rather than studios and on equipment Lindeman was learning how to use as she went, the album is raw and often quite sparse. However, it's rawness doesn't overshadow a strong sense of both tradition and experimentation. On one hand, The Line is folk music as it's been played in living rooms and on front porches for decades. It captures the primal need we have to make music, to explore and expose the darkness. The album is sparse and dark to the point of being difficult, yet is carried by the honesty of those very same qualities.
At the same time, Lindeman's arrangements push the limits of what folk music can be. Droning strings, Moog, household items and "found sound" all contribute to its boldness and create tension between what folk music has long been and what it could become. As much as she pushes these songs to their limits, they are still as natural as being uncomfortable in one's own skin. Her innovations are not merely a veneer on top of traditional folk either. Instead, experimentation and tradition intertwine throughout the album to create something entirely unique.
The Line is by no means an easy listen, but then neither is any true human story. At times, it is incredibly low-key and then something, a guitar, some random noise, will pierce the lull. Likewise, there is anger and pain here, but beauty also pierces through that. It is both the confusion and the affirmation of being alive.
http://www.herohill.com/2009/04/reviews-weather-station-line.htm
As you sift through the songs on Tamara Lindeman’s new record, The Line, you are struck by the sadness of the affair. Not the classic melancholy of another “break-up” record (which this could be, but every time I listen I feel like Tamara is expressing something more painful and harder to get past), but the sadness that comes when you see someone losing their innocence and youth and growing up faster than they might want.
Now, I can’t claim to know Tamara or what’s she’s gone through; a few fragmented emails and my take on the songs she writes doesn’t offer the depth to pass judgment on anyone, but when she started this musical project it was to get over her broken heart, and now it’s grown into something completely different over the last few years. Her music no longer seems like a collection of sounds that scream, “It’s going to be ok” but instead it makes you wonder if Tamara thinks that forgetting those soaring heights and crashing lows is a much safer way to travel.
There are many reasons why, but most obvious is time. Years have passed and the sting of the pain she felt lessens each day, but it’s easy to forget that Tamara wasn’t "technically" a musician when she started this. The last few years have shown her grow as much musically as she has emotionally and now every heartbreaking, painful thought and each musical choice has been debated, deliberated and revisited countless times until it sounds right.
The Weather Station is definitely Tamara’s outlet, but she is surrounded by some talented people who know her and her songs. Simon, Jack and Dwight offer subtle, but crucial flourishes and help make this solo project more accessible. Blasts of static, mandolin, and strings fill out the empty gaps you’d expect from such a somber affair and help spike the record and help the listener relate to these extremely personal stories.
Despite all these changes, she never loses the intimacy and power of her songs, as each emotion is ripe with clarity. Patience and maturity have usurped the freedom of singing simply to get things off her chest. From start to finish, The Line is the result of Tamara taking the time to really think about what she wants to say and how she wants it to be heard. Even the songs that have been carried over from her EP sound wiser, warmer and still somehow wearier, even though in most cases the changes are very minor. Regardless, her voice and arrangements might give us the glimmer of hope she can't seem to find.
http://www.soundproofmagazine.com/Canada/Albums/The_Weather_Station_-_The_Line.html
The Weather Station
The Line
(Killbeat)
SOUNDS LIKE: Banjo-backed, femininely gentile Appalachian folk music that's distinctively Canadian.
WHY/WHY NOT: There's something utterly resplendent about the sound of the humble and noble banjo. The image of a girl with braids down her back, skirts hauled to the knee, sitting with a banjo picking away – lonesome voice, Appalachian heart – always conjures up in my mind when I hear the solo strum of this wonderful instrument. It's this essence, this genuine sound of Americana at its finest that has been captured in the overall theme of Tamara Lindeman's The Line – the first album from her outfit, The Weather Station.
And yet Americana it's not – Canadiana more like it, having grown out of Toronto's fertile music scene. But the tradition is properly observed and respected nonetheless. Chirping frogs, guitar and banjo, haunting voice, pots and pans, even scissors, are all present here with such sublime songs as the nostalgically romantic "East" and "The Hunter", which is as delicate as cracked teacups, too pretty to throw away. The beautifully titled "Amaranth", particularly stands out, however, with hypnotizing arrangements and lulling voices gathered together in melancholy melody. This album is dusk and the end of a hot summer day – such prettiness, you'll find encompassed in The Line.
http://staergetaleht.blogspot.com/2009/03/why-fck-is-no-one-in-america-blogging.html
Tamara Lindeman is the female Bon Iver. She used music to cope with some tough emotional times. I can't say that I am happy that she was so sad, but for her to produce such amazing music, I kind of hope she never cheers up. Her band's debut - The Line - comes out next month.
I'm sure you'll be hearing more about her and The Weather Station in 2009.