Weakerthans - Fallow

Tracks

Side 1

		Track Name	Length
	1	Illustrated Bible Stories for Children	01:42
	2	Diagnosis	02:40
	3	Confessions of a futon-revolutionist	02:15
	4	NoNe of the Above	04:17
	5	Letter of Resignation	03:22
	6	Leash	03:06

Side 2

		Track Name	Length
	1	Wellington’s Wednesdays	03:01
	2	The Last Last One	03:09
	3	Greatest Hits Collection	03:03
	4	Sounds Familiar	02:29
	5	Anchorless	03:50
	6	Fallow	05:26

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Information/Write-up

While they may not be the most prolific band, Winnipeg’s The Weakerthans have recruited a devoted legion of fans during their twelve year career, producing four full length albums of literate and brilliantly infectious indie-rock along the way. As is the case with many bands, their beginnings were a promise of greatness that would only be fully realised in their sophomore record and beyond; but what Fallow lacks in refinement compared to its older siblings is more than made up for with a breezy, wonderfully rich character that will be familiar to fans of their later records, and a warm welcome to any newcomers.

On paper, The Weakerthans’ formula seems deceptively simple: music that ranges from upbeat and catchy indie-rock, to more austere, gentler moments where the instrumentation is stripped away, leaving room for John Samson’s voice to drift through the endless elegance and wit of his lyrics. Throughout Fallow the tone of the record swells and recedes, with the delicacy of songs such as ‘Sounds Familiar’ and ‘None of the Above’ finding their natural home amongst brisk, punkier numbers like ‘Confessions of a Futon-Revolutionist’. The melodic backbone of the record might be more comparable to folk and americana than any other genre, but the more energetic moments of the record rattle along with a cheerful brevity that is decidedly punk, albeit a mature, indie brand of punk; one infused with a deep, even affectionate warmth.

The record is refreshingly devoid of any production trickery, each song carrying with it a beautifully organic air. Even at their most vigorous the guitar sound is merely touched with distortion, leaving every change in key open to inspection; the drums are the quiet heartbeat of the slow sections, and even when they step up a gear they remain an astute compliment to the overall feel of the music, providing energy without overpowering. Samson’s wry tone suits the instrumentation of the record to a tee, and his lyricism, with all its wealth of imagery and characterisation, seems as effortless as it is poetic. Tales of sadness, loss and growing-up are punctuated with subtle, wonderfully vivid images, like a finger tracing through spilled sugar, or the frantic black eyes of a wounded bird. Even the most ardent enemies of indie-rock would be hard pressed to deny that this guy can write.

Even so, Fallow will never be considered The Weakerthans’ greatest record – the release of a stunning second album will do that to a debut – but the truth is, it doesn’t need to be. Where some bands’ debuts eventually become inescapable millstones tied around their necks, The Weakerthans’ first shot remains an uncut diamond that will always be the respectable beginning of something truly beautiful. Welcome aboard.
-Brokenjewel

If not for the fact that John K. Samson had already made a name for himself as lead smart-ass of Manitoba pop-punks Propagandhi, the Weakerthans could have been lost in the vacuum that swallowed most brilliant Canadian artists of the 1990s. When the Weakerthans began in 1997 Winnipeg, Samson was primarily known as a socio-sarcasm ultra-punk mouthpiece, part stand-up comic and part NY Times op/ed piece, throwing punches at the mainstream and the underground with equal force, acknowledging no difference in the hypocrisy of downtown suits and gutter punks. No one was safe, everyone was flawed, and Samson was more than willing to point out the absurdity of modern life to anyone who might cram into a chilly basement squat or naïve coffee-shop.

Basically, Samson is a singer-songwriter, except that he’s too post-modern to simply give his band his name. After establishing himself as a loudmouth punker shithead, Samson spent the first two Weakerthans albums coming to terms with his transition from the anti-king of one-liners to a writer and artist, without betraying a transformation from anarchist crackpot to neo-liberal pussy. Fallow is a carefully understated shimmer of indie pop. Samson fumbles around on some acoustic thing on the opening track, “Illustrated Stories for Bible Children,” but doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. Most of the album’s lyrics are either mildly amusing (“Peer out under a sky that looks just like a shirt I lost”) or simply beneath him (“I have a feeling that hums with the street lights”). To his credit, Samson humanizes himself by addressing such personal problems as insecurity with lines like “I have desire / That falters and falls down / calls you up drunk at 3 or 4 AM”.

Left & Leaving is more of the same. Samson never directly discusses politics, only brushes against topics with tedious precision, cleverly avoiding judgment in favor of description. “Pamphleteer,” the disc’s most significant track, explores the solitude of the activist rather than his cause. It’s quite the high ground to take for the man who once sang “I’d rather be imprisoned in a George Orwellian world / Than this pacified society.” It’s also far more effective.

Reconstruction Site is a masterpiece of late-night indie-rock, when all the cool people have gone off to have sex with each other and you’re left alone or stuck with your loser friends. From the country mish-mash of “A New Name for Everything,” the pseudo-pop punk of “(Manifest)” to the nearly sublime caress of the interlude “(Hospital Vespers”), Samson is here an artist absolutely in touch with himself and his audience. Each of the touchingly literate drunken sing-a-longs is an update of Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” for lifetime grad students with a lifetime of incompletes, lost chances, dates that went horribly wrong and tabs at bars that don’t normally issue tabs. It’s an album of college towns, wherever something exists to distract smart-alecks from the boredom of being too intelligent for one’s own good. Despite a song about self-love from a frustrated cat to its self-deprecating owner (“Plea From a Cat Named Virtute”), this is actually an album of self-discovery that strains the facetious heart of indie rock with simply listenable introspection. Jeff Tweedy should blush that he’s too pretentious to write stuff like this.

Reunion Tour (a studio album, natch) reverts to the decent but not great indie rock of Left and Fallow. The songs are catchy and listenable, but Samson’s lyrics lack the depth of songs like “Benediction” or “A New Name for Everything” on its predecessor. Reunion Tour does sound like a Weakerthans album, and it would be too harsh to accuse Samson of simply not trying on this one, but where is the inspiration of Reconstruction Site, the rage and torment of simply living life and making good and bad choices and dealing with their outcomes and still being able to sing “Throw away my misery / It never meant that much to me / It never once bought me a drink”? At his best, Samson is an artist on his knees, looking up, not at the audience, but at himself.
-Jack Partain

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