The Weakerthans’ John K. Samson navigates nature and technology on Winter Wheat
Winter Wheat is about preservation and perseverance. Drown out the lyrics, though, and that might not be so clear—there’s a chilliness to these 15 songs, many of which shiver with the kind of stark weariness that’s long suffused John K. Samson’s vocals. The once-Weakerthans frontman’s insectoid croon works wonders in this mode, where it can oscillate between isolation and wonder with just the slightest shifts in pitch and emphasis. As he did on 2012’s lovely, literate Provincial, Samson sings from the point of view of several distinct characters, most of whom reside in his home base of Winnipeg. They’re also caught, as we all are in this generation, in that liminal space between comfort and progress. Samson has said the album is about “nostalgia” and seems particularly interested in the generation of people—himself included—that has functioned both before and after the proliferation of the internet.
Refreshingly, Winter Wheat isn’t here to scold the smartphone-owning. “I don’t mean to miss the good old days,” Samson sings on solemn opener “Select All Delete.” “The good old days were mostly bad.” What he’s more interested in is transition. Human contact has undergone seismic change with the advent of PCs and mobile devices; how are we, as living, breathing people in need of corporeal connection, coping with that? For the protagonist of “Postdoc Blues,” a clumsy academic reliant on dongles and PowerPoint presentations, it’s self-help adages that, in this age of disconnect and irony, have taken on new resonance—“pursue a practice that will strengthen your heart,” he reads from a laminate in his pocket. Elsewhere, the unhinged quizmaster of “Quiz Night At Looky Lou’s” and “Alpha Adept” retreats into delusions of a new life on another planet “where everyone is happier and tall.”
