Whether Tis Nobler

Saturday night, I left my guest room to go to The Danforth Music Hall for a seated concert. This venue was usually standing for me except for a show with KD Lang, Laura Veirs, and Neko Case. I was shocked that it was so empty even though I saw on social media that the promoter was still posting about available tickets. But it turned out that, unlike Ottawa, most Toronto people didn't bother showing up for the opener.

The first set feature Luke (Luka) Kuplowsky in a trio set-up with Karen Ng (clarinet, alto sax) and Josh Cole (bass). He played mainly from his new album Stardust including Rough Times and City By My Window. Kuplowsky also adapted Ars Poetica II from Ukrainian poet Bohdan-Igor Antonych. There was only 1 song from his "romantic" days, the earnest Love Is The Eternal Weight. I haven't loved his descent into sad-sack indie but Ng and Cole gave interesting texture and interplay with pop/jazz riffs and solos.

The audience was appreciative but just polite for Kuplowsky. However, a foursome of 20-somethings behind me were quite critical ranging from being mildly negative (a girl who worked at The Burdock and has seen several of his "Team Building" songwriter showcases) to downright dismissive ("totally cheesy" stated a dude who apparently got some back-pats for his songwriting back in college). They were mystified that Tamara Lindeman (The Weather Station) declared that Stardust was one of her favourite record this year. Musical tastes are, of course, personal. But someone who has slogged at it for almost a decade to release several albums featuring musicians/friends from the local scene possesses something (if only belief and perseverance) that an "I had potential" cynic lacks.

The almost-capacity crowd was larger and different (especially a lot of older folks) from Lindeman's previous shows. I suspect they were attending because her latest album Ignorance was on numerous albums-of-the-year lists such as Rolling Stones and The New York Times. Tonight was her biggest backing band including Karen Ng, Kieran Adams on drums, Johnny Spence on keys, Ivy Mairi on vocals, and Ben Whiteley on bass. Dressed in black, they provided a complex, kaleidoscopic foundation for Lindeman to gently nestle her complex lyrics about heartbreak (Separated), suburban ennui (Subdivisions), and apathy (I Tried To Tell You). Anxiety around climate change made many appearances both literal and metaphorical. None more so that in Robber, where Lindeman donned her "disco-ball mirror" jacket to sing truth to power ("He had permission/ permission by laws/ permission by banks"), while the band propelled the song forward and Karen Ng drew huge cheers with a blistering, manic solo.

Lindeman revealed that she had come down with a cold but was determined not to cancel her biggest hometown show. Luckily, she didn't lose her voice for tonight. Her precised, measured vocals was somehow both intimate but also clinical. Like someone dissecting their life experiences to examine and reflect on every detail. After the rousing Robber, the set wrapped with a quiet 3-song encore. It wasn't unexpected as The Weather Station's discog was mostly lyrical folk-pop. So the audience and myself was delightedly surprised that Lindeman closed with a muscular Thirty, rocking enough to get feet stomping.