The Weakerthans, The Real Men of Music

By: Jodie Kautzmann (Lawrencerock.com Articles Editor)

Music is just like baking soda. Everybody has a different use for it.

Some use music primarily as an audible punching bag, allowing it to muffle tension with sweet melodies or jagged chords. Others unite themselves with the beat, surrendering their minds to the demands of their muscles.

Of course, these are just two possibilities. A million other reasons lie between, and they're not always so cut and dry. For me, however, the answer is clear.

Music is solace.

Kurt Vonnegut best articulates my sentiment. As he said in Timequake, "Many people need desperately to receive this message: 'I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people don't care about them. You are not alone.'"

I can't say that I feel a personal tie to every band I listen to, but this is essentially what separates the boys from the men. As far as my CD collection is concerned, the Weakerthans are right on par with Clint Eastwood.

Though the Weakerthans have been doing their thing since 1997, it wasn't until December of 2000 that I first stumbled upon their latest CD, Left and Leaving. I'll be honest. It wasn't love at first listen. Or even second
or third.

Nope, it wasn't until five ignorant months later that I actually began listening to the CD regularly. By the time the band swung by the Bottleneck early last summer, I was appreciative enough to excitedly purchase a ticket.

When the frail frontman John Samson took the mic to give the disclaimer that he was feeling awful, I expected a lackluster performance. What I got instead was the most riveting show experience I've had to date. The only
word I can use to describe it is warm. From that point forward, the same warmth has seemed to radiate from each recorded Weakerthans song.

As Samson told buddyhead.com, "The primary focus of my writing is about alienation and the struggle for humans to communicate and feel less isolated; the status quo in our culture is really designed to prevent that."

Indeed, this is the major theme of both 2000's Left and Leaving and 1997's Fallow.

"Confessions of a futon-revolutionist" is a prime example of the writer's disenchantment with the monotony of corporate daily life. It begins with Samson sputtering, "Held like water in your shaking hands are all the small
defeats a day demands. 10-6 or 9-5 trying, dying to survive. Never knowing what survival means."

Similarly, on "Illustrated Bible Stories for Children," Samson laments, "Morning bright, rise. Go over your lines. Iron your carefully crafted disguise."

Fortunately, Samson doesn't merely spew grievances without offering consolation. Instead, he encourages listeners to take on these seemingly insolvable problems rather than to wallow in them. He instructs us to never "stop peering into windows when we know doors are shut" and professes that even "all straight lines circle sometimes."

Samson subscribes to the idea that "the personal is political." In line with this logic, his songs often forgo the ever-tempting verse-chorus-verse for a more narrative, and consequently more personal, style. This style, paired with eloquent word allusions, allows him to sing about conventional song subjects (i.e. heartbreak) while still contributing something fresh to his craft. Just listen to the title track of Left and Leaving.

Of course, Samson isn't the only Weakerthan. Though he does take credit for the words, all songs are written by the collective Weakerthans. Like Samson's lyric writing, the band's musical style is straightforward. I like to think of it as punk rock with a matte finish. It's not so glossy, but most definitely lacks the roughness of, say, Avail.

As an audible whole, The Weakerthans may not at first sound like the golden nugget of musical genius that I have painted them as. But by delving a little deeper, one realizes that they are the musical equivalent of both
sipping tea by the fireplace and having a pillow fight with friends.

Oh yeah, and Clint Eastwood.