Review Summary: The safest place to keep all our tenderness.
John K. Samson doesn’t like to generalize, preferring to sketch out lists whose contents are so specific that they seemingly threaten the universality of his lyrics. Blankets, matches, new decks of cards, a puke-green sofa, the best parts of lonely. It’s only fitting, then, that his fans, attempting in vain like the eponymous pamphleteer to spread his music to the ignorant masses, are forced to blubber into similar ones. We insist that while they may not seize you on your first listen, even blurring into the fray of similar folk-rock groups, they have incredibly tender and arresting lyrics, stunning emotional grounding, effortless and tender charm, and a mix of authenticity and intelligence that separates them from their pretentious peers. Unfortunately they’re also a defunct Canadian indie band that plays fairly typical music that requires multiple listens to even engage you. As any fan can tell you, however, once you’re hooked there’s no turning back.
Left and Leaving, the band’s second record, exemplifies these qualities: its flaws are abundant but overwhelmed by sheer sincerity and charm, not to mention the remarkable lyrical effort of John K. Samson.
Essentially, the lyrics of
Left and Leaving are poems bound elastically but comfortably to music. Sentences leak over phrases, and sometimes the words don’t make sense given the lack of conventional musical punctuation. “Everything Must Go” is the most obvious example, stringing together a seemingly nonsensical run-on sentence that makes more sense on the page than on the record. Samson's poetic leanings are not unique among his contemporaries, but he stand alone in that he is supremely unpretentious and charming; self-deprecating and witty within the boundaries of sincerity. His poetic voice is somehow quotidian despite its vocabulary; fans often say that he “says what everyone wishes they had the talent to express.” While Left and Leaving doesn’t mark the peak of his conciseness, it is the height of his poetic integrity. On later albums Samson becomes more of a songwriter and less of a poet, but on
Left and Leaving lyrics, if read aloud, often sound nothing like lyrics. One of the weaker tracks, “Without Mythologies,” falters because it leans too far over that fence, but overall Samson is skilled at subtly weaving together his words and music. However, the value of these lyrics isn’t just their expression of what normal people feel but can’t express, but they’re also the product of resourcefulness, employing inventive metaphors and imagery evoking, among other things, a sky of “turned off TV grey.” This creativity couples with Samson’s specific yet universal subject matter to differentiate his lyrics from typical indie-folk offerings.
The subject matter engaged on
Left and Leaving is complicated and conflicted, and tackles the existential question that faced the Weakerthans as young, talented residents of the seemingly unyielding Canadian city of Winnipeg: why stay? Samson displays his talent for drenching his personal and specific experiences in universal themes and emotional punches that can affect those who have never even heard of the town. Struggling with “leaving” is not a new concept in indie rock – how many times have we heard about attempts to “get the hell out of this town?” – but Samson examines the conventional pain of break-ups and separations through an existential lens that questions his loyalty to his city itself. He paints a vivid picture of Winnipeg, “barely breathing… through buildings gone missing like teeth,” as “backlanes tie the city down; a mess of dirty string” that will “never take me anywhere but here.” More than that, he attempts to explain the ineffable force that not only prevents him from leaving, but eventually drags his friends back home: of course, “all straight lines circle sometime.” This extremely compelling and interesting theme is one reason that the confessionals are more affecting than the third person fictions that comprise most of
Left and Leaving’s latter half.
The Weakerthans are, it’s no secret, not an exceptional band musically. They don’t innovate, they don’t push boundaries, and they sure as hell don’t make a striking first impression. These are all clichés when talking about this band; they go almost without saying. This limit isn’t quite as defined here as that of the in-progress evolution of Samson’s songwriting, more specifically the realization that his more poppy, straightforward songs are generally his best. “Aside,” “Watermarks,” and “This is a Fire Door Never Leave Open” foreshadow the more consistent songwriting present on Reconstruction Site, incredibly catchy and driving, most importantly allowing the lyrics to complement the music rather than dominate it. Slower tracks like “Without Mythologies” and “History to the Defeated” meander, despite the band’s best efforts, because of basic structural and tempo problems, making them essentially crevasses between classics. Nonetheless, the aforementioned “Everything Must Go,” as well as emotional behemoths “Pamphleteer” and “Left and Leaving” prove Samson is not only capable of writing good pop anthems. However, the value of the Weakerthans themselves is never more evident than on “My Favourite Chords”, which glides tenderly and gently by on the strength of Samson’s incredibly touching lyrics until the band enters, at which point the song reaches a beautiful emotional height. This moment exemplifies the underrated simplicity of the band’s musical contribution, framing Samson’s words without overwhelming them.
Left and Leaving isn’t a masterpiece, nor is it the height of the Weakerthans’ catalogue, reflective of Samson’s progress as a songwriter, comfortable in his own shoes but still unsure telling the stories of others. The result is a somewhat inconsistent album whose strengths far outweigh its weaknesses, and whose sincere and charming poetic voice counteracts its few excessive points. Much more importantly, the album remains a staggeringly honest and thoughtful treatise on not only Winnipeg but also the universal unease and ache of leaving home. As long as that struggle continues to persist, devoted pamphleteers will fruitlessly push
Left and Leaving.
