Julian Laws
A Popular Music (Falmouth University) graduate currently based just outside of Bristol. A voracious reader, meticulous Letterboxd reviewer and lover of all things music. Consistently championing often ignored upcoming artists from Cornwall and the South West music scene to show what amazing talent can be found outside of the big cities!
The Weather Station bring their new album ‘Humanhood,’ offering a spiritual experience to the hungry ears of Bristol
A pregnant cloud hung heavy over Bristol, probing, questioning and aching to release with rain. The Weather Station succeeded in fulfilling their namesake by releasing a deluge of ambient, alternative indie rock that took listeners on an introspective journey into the machinations of the mind and life.
Stepping into the fog and din of The Fleece, I was immediately transfixed by the obelisks that symbolised the three stages of ‘Humanhood’. Projected upon them was a myriad of lights, flashes, flames, seascapes and landscapes that developed a tangible feeling of anticipation that hummed and vibrated amidst the crowd.
The stones spoke to me of something more, of time, antiquity, the earth, foundation, and unshakable facts. They stood, solitary and silent blocking the band in, drawing our eyes and attention to the performances taking place within this monolithic semi-circle. The changing colours and patterns reflected the fluidity of the performances.
Flautist and saxophonist Karen Ng’s tasteful parts bled with breath and realness whilst Kieran Adams drums (equipped with two crashes and no rides) filled the stage with a blanket of noise that encapsulated and acted as the backbone for the other performers to weave in and out of.
Lindeman broke this stellar performance into three parts: the first being ‘Asking yourself what’s going to happen?’, the second ‘How you navigate that? And the third being ‘living the passage’ – living the questions and invariably finding the answer – this is what The Weather Station’s music and performance was ultimately doing. Navigating the listener through life, through ‘Humanhood’.
Settling the crowd with ambient synth plucks and a piano that trickled the audience into silence, you knew immediately of the journey you were about to be taken on. The music that underpinned Lindeman’s effortless melodies, wavering octave jumps and introspective spoken word accompanied these ‘three parts’ tastefully and artistically.
The Weather Station started the performance with songs that made the audience symbiotically float but closed with chaos that distended and bubbled – evocative of the desperation one feels when navigating questions like ‘what is going to happen?’
Segueing into the second part, the songs and lyrics became more and more questioning – “was it some kind of trap you devised?” Notably, Karen Ng here played a sax part that was solely just her breath playing rhythmically, almost like white noise that alluded to being fed up, of wanting to experience your last breath.
The third part saw the obelisks projecting trees and roads, ever moving forward on to the next destination, the next questions that needed to be answered. This part was a catharsis for the band and – as the audience was partaking in this journey too – a catharsis for us. The tensions had been built, the questions had been created and now it could be released.
Expertly whipping up these human emotions we all feel, The Weather Station’s performance will be one I won’t be soon to forget and one I think everyone would benefit from going to. Criminally underrated, beautifully understated and lyrically a dream The Weather Station’s tour of ‘Humanhood’ succeeds in transporting fans into the realm of the psyche and the questions we all ask ourselves daily.
Listen to ‘Humanhood’ here:
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