Ignorance

Chronique

Categorized as a "folk artist" since her 2009 album debut, Tamara Lindeman—frontwoman of the otherwise ever-changing band that is The Weather Station—defies pigeonholing with her fifth effort: a sensual, lavish collection of songs that borrows from modern jazz, electronica and straight-up dance music. With its steady rock beat, bubbling melody and low-key dynamics, the terrific new track "Tried to Tell You" could be an Arcade Fire song. It all suits Lindeman's voice, a shape-shifting thing of dark beauty that begs Joni Mitchell comparisons but also easily travels from Kate Bush flutters to Annie Lennox heft. Things get appealingly enigmatic and weird right from opener "Robber," with its high-hat hiss, sharply punctuated strings, and moody sax and piano. Lindeman sounds like she's breathing the lyrics more than singing them: "I never believed in the robber. I never saw nobody climb over my fence; no black bag, no gloved hand." It's delightfully open to interpretation (a lover who stole self-esteem? a psychic vampire? a literal thief?), but Lindeman has also said that it was inspired by earth-harming actions of Exxon Mobil. Indeed, she's revealed that much of the album was written during a winter obsession over the apocalyptic nature of climate change, That said, it's not easy to parse when the lyrical malaise is about that or some other bruise. "You lay in bed...every other part of you hurt...loss is loss," Lindeman intones on "Loss," a song that musically evokes the hum of traffic on the move. "Dim the lights and draw the curtains; this is the end of love," she sings like some Byronic hero on the stark-to-lush "Trust." Even the album title, Ignorance, begins to feel like self-damnation. Hell, maybe it's enough to take a lyric like "you know it just kills me when I see some bird fly. It just kills me, and I don’t know why"—from the throbbing "Parking Lot"—at face value. By the end, as the emotions (both lyrical and musical) have simmered for 40 minutes but never quite boiled over, you might need a constitutional, or at least some caffeine, to shake it loose from your thoughts. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz