Reunion Tour

The Canadian indie outfit The Weakerthans has released just four albums in the 10 years of their existence, which has been just enough to barely keep their heads above the waters of obscurity. Nevertheless, the songwriting prowess of frontman John K Samson is such that the band maintains a modestly healthy fanbase; the two shows I've attended have been tiny venues (200-300 seaters), but both have sold out. The Weakerthans even surface occasionally in the pop mainstream (their song "Aside" was the end-credits track in the 2005 comedy "The Wedding Crashers"). All of the band's members have various arts-related day jobs, and this down-to-earth aesthetic is embodied in their music.

The best and the worst thing about "Reunion Tour", which was 4 years in the making, is that it has an insurmountable air of familiarity. As a fan with only marginal interest in The Weakerthans, I found myself confusing the new songs for the old songs at a recent show. Samson is a singularly impressive songwriter, and his command of language in particular makes some of his indie peers look like simpletons. The opening track, "Civil Twilight", is an eloquent fiction narrated by an imaginary, lovelorn bus driver, and the manner in which Samson tosses off the song's first lines is nothing short of masterful: "My confusion-cornered commuters are cursing the cold away / As December tries to dissemble the length of their working day / And they bite their mitts off to show me transfers, deposit change / And I can't stop finding your face in their faces, all rearranged." But Samson seems to be stuck in a melodic rut, repeating many of the same musical patterns over and over again, both here and on previous albums. This is sort of the musical equivalent of a horror writer working an axe-murderer into every book; there's a lot you can do with an axe-murderer, but after a while the reader begins to crave some variety on a more fundamental level.

Though "Reunion Tour" offers a more diverse sonic pallette than previous outings, its a fairly superficial change (it's as if this time, the axe-murderer is a transvestite). Lyrically, Samson has moved beyond the personal, sometimes solipsistic narrative style that plagues many indie songwriters, embracing instead a variety of disparate viewpoints, many of which seem to have spurred his imagination to new poetic heights. But, musically speaking, "Reunion Tour" is firmly in the mold of 2003's "Reconstruction Site", with the songs on the new album offering no structural improvements or innovations over their 4-year-old counterparts.

The one notable exception is the exquisitely textured "Night Windows", which offers a glimpse of what this new album might have sounded like if the Weakerthans had indeed achieved a full-blown artistic breakthrough. Though Samson's vocal line is still basically melodically stagnant, this fact is offset by the other musical elements in play, and by the achingly wistful lyrics. The intricate bass line, tightly entwined with the drummer's rim-shots, gives way to Samson's obliquely melancholic lyrics: "I see you suddenly alive, and nearly smiling...". The exact inspiration for the song is still a mystery to me, though the piece is apparently a hopeless ode to a lost love one, expressing the narrator's frustration at being unable now to say all the things he should have said when he had the chance. The instrumentation consists of several distinct aural elements: that walking bass line, those taut drums, the minimalistic reiterations of a single guitar chord. The song builds organically to a quietly heartbreaking climax when the other band members, singing backup in 4-part harmony, enter with the lyrics: "But you're not / Coming home again / And I won't / Ever get to say..." The addition of this musical layer brings the song to a new level; those voices, awkwardly sincere in an almost adolescent way, are immediately endearing, and over those repeated lines, Samson sings the things that he won't ever get to say.

The Weakerthans are putting out music at a consistent musical quality with ever increasing songwriting strength. "Virtute the Cat..." has the be the saddest song written by a human being. The only new album I've heard this year that is firmly in the "great" category.

At best, I might be described as a casual fan of the Weakerthans. Usually I need my music to have some more punch to it, but when I am feeling introspective or low, this is the soundtrack to my mood. So, when I saw a new album had come out, I was not sure if I wanted to fork up the money for something that was so melancholy. Luckily, I did.

The first track starts off with a bit of energy, but it ultimately is not as satisfying as some of the other songs on the album. The Weakerthans shine not when they are full of vigor, but when they are brooding over loss. There are three songs on this album that have just stuck into my mental tape recorder and continue to replay over and over: Virtute the Cat, Sun in an Empty Room, and Night Windows.

On all three of these songs, the Weakerthans show amazing song writing abilities. On Virtute the Cat, the song breaks into what feels like it is going to be a heart breaking chorus and half finishes on the third line making it imperative to listen to it again to satisfy the music itch. Sun in an Empty Room, the number one song for me on the album, defies normal song structure with the reoccurring title phrase bleeding from the verse, to the chorus, and ultimately into the extremely sad conclusion in the bridge. Night Windows has an excellent round of stack vocals, each filled with emotional sincerity.

The Elegy of Gump Worsley is an instant skip whenever I come to it. Some of the other songs are brooding, but they feel more throwaway without a hook to ground them. The lyrics throughout the album, though, are some of the best ever put to music.

› Go to Amazon.com to see all 5 reviews  4.0 out of 5 stars