Sometimes it’s about what isn’t there.
Given the richness of The Weather Station (aka Tamara Lindemann, surprisingly pronounced to rhyme with ‘camera’ and not our UK version of ‘Tam-aah-ra”) and the songs on her last two albums, there was a danger that tonight’s gig in London could suffer from a severe sense of the underwhelming.
This is resolutely not the case, as tonight The Lexington could be ‘well past Orleans’, ‘past Montmagny’, or just ‘on the other side of the world’ as Lindemann sings across a glorious catalogue of folk-Americana gems.
So the strings are absent on You & I (On The Other Side of the World), those melodic guitar flecks too camouflaged on Way It Is, Way It Could Be, and yet it matters none. The Weather Station as a live act are ridiculously taut, but in a way that feels like a joy to watch on stage. These songs don’t need much in the way of fleshing out, so every drum fill or guitar interlude feels vital in conjuring the world Lindemann has already laid down perfectly on record.
It’s also a testament to the potency of The Weather Station’s songs, making even London feel romantic in cold October. After hearing a charming Canadian-drawl monologue from Lindemann about London’s houseboats, we sway to Impossible, we cry over tender deconstruction of anxiety on I Mined (“And every word I overturned like a stone rolling easy/ And all I’d see hidden underneath only served to make me lonely”), and our feet don’t stop tapping during her rollicking closer Thirty. And through it all a smile never leaves our face; not only due to the realisation that Lindemann is one of the world’s greatest living songwriters, but that her live performances ought to fully grant her the modern-legend status she so deserves.