Humanhood spotlights The Weather Station’s restlessness

With her new album, Humanhood, Tamara Lindeman, a.k.a. The Weather Station, draws from the textures and lush interplays of 2021’s Ignorance while also revisiting the more subdued gestalts of 2022’s How Should I Look at the Stars. Incorporating instrumental fadeouts, dissolutions, and truncations, Lindeman forges her most free-flowing, even experimental, album. That said, a smooth production approach gives the project a high-fi finish.

Throughout Humanhood, as with earlier albums, Lindeman explores overlaps between sophisticated pop and salon jazz. “Neon Signs”, for example, is carried by a fluid piano, eager drums, and Lindeman’s moody vocal. Perky flute and string accents come and go. The mix will appeal to fans of orchestral FM as well as Village Vanguard eclecticists. In the past, Lindeman has focused mostly on song and audial construction; with her new work, she also demonstrates an intrigue with deconstruction, mining incompleteness as much as unity.

That is, Lindeman’s interest in the avant-garde significantly informs Humanhood. “Window” tests the balance between cohesion and dissolution, Lindeman’s vocal unfurling amidst an understatedly discordant mix of percussion, synths, and fuzzy guitars. “Ribbon” is a study in staccatos versus glissandos. Drums are tight, more rim than skin. The piano fluctuates in terms of volume, claiming center stage, then retreating into the background. Lindeman’s vocal bobs atop the instrumental roil.

“Mirror”, meanwhile, blends a summery melody, rock-inflected beats, and synthy accents that conjure mercurial all-nighters, angsty break-ups, and stoner cum profound realizations (“God is a mirror / everything is”). Lindeman’s vocal points to a performance-art MO a la Jenny Hval but is also mainstream-ready in a way that recalls Sarah McLachlan or Joni Mitchell.

The title track shows Lindeman exploring what it means to be conditioned to strive and accomplish (“I been … carrying a body that’s tired from carrying a mind”). Horns, synths, and strings pulse and settle, flare and dissolve. With “Body Moves”, Lindeman further comments on the relationship between mind and body, evoking a space of confusion, perhaps dissociation (“look at this mess your body fooled you”). Her vocal is restrained yet melodic. The piano and fiddle interact, elbowing each other playfully.

“Lonely” is the album’s most pensive track. When Lindeman alludes to “this habitual mistrust of you”, she refers to herself as much as an absent lover. Instrumentation is more ephemeral, diaphanous, reminiscent of recent Cassandra Jenkins or Karima Walker’s Waking the Dreaming Body.

With her latest set, Lindeman strives for an improvisational tone. The approach mostly works, though her use of discordance occasionally fails to translate. Melodically, she is notably less hook-oriented than on previous releases. To compensate, she re-embraces the quiet sensuality expressed via How Should I Look at the Stars. Humanhood spotlights a restless artist as she strives to reconcile minimalism and maximalism, all the while addressing the mysteries of self, other, and the world.