5 for 20: Tamara Lindeman of the Weather Station

When you’re an influential musician, people tend to ask you what you’ve been listening to lately. Here at 5 for 20, we’re just as keen to find out what records loom large in our favourite artists’ memory banks. So, we’re asking folks for their top five records of the last 20 years.

As part of our coverage of the second annual Lawnya Vawnya festival of independent music and arts, which takes place in St. John’s, N.L., from April 18 to 22, we’ve been speaking with participating artists. Earlier this week, we heard from Dave Ullrich of the Inbreds about his 5 for 20, and now it’s time to catch up with Toronto’s Tamara Lindeman, a.k.a. the Weather Station.

Once a member of Entire Cities and currently in Bruce Peninsula, Lindeman writes lovely, challenging folk songs as the Weather Station, recalling gifted artists like Joni Mitchell, Gordon Lightfoot and Julie Doiron. The Weather Station released the acclaimed album All of it was Mine last August, and they’re playing at Lawnya Vawnya on Thursday evening.

Coming up with 5 for 20 isn’t always easy and Lindeman found it challenging for a valid reason. “Much of the music I listen to was made either prior to the last 20 years, or in the last 10,” she explains. “The '90s were a wash for me. I was going to high school in a small town and other than coming across Portishead and Massive Attack on the odd movie soundtrack, I had no exposure to anything good.

“Things changed when I moved to Toronto in 2002, just in time for that pretty awesome year, 2003. Well, I, along with much of the world, got turned on to music outside of the mainstream – and to a lot of things.”

Shine a Light by Constantines (2003)

What better rock and roll record can you think of? I loved it when I was 18, and it's taken me the last 10 years to understand just how much, and why.

Car Wheels on a Gravel Road by Lucinda Williams (1998)

It's just undeniable. You put on this record, you feel good. This record introduced me to country music. It's all classic. Like the Cons, I fell in love with it at 17, and I'm still coming to know why. But more importantly, I'm still singing all the damn songs.

You Can't Take Anyone by Castlemusic (2008)

The reminder that music is enduringly mysterious. Her second record is more qualitatively awesome, but this one just slides directly into the deepest, darkest places in my heart and I will never know why. I guess it's not a rock record, but it's pretty hardcore.

Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle by Bill Callahan (2009)

A perfect record. Unimpeachable. Every listen unfurls new lyrical meaning. And all delivered so humbly, just this guy mumbling in your ear, pure essentials.

Thought For Food by the Books (2002)

This record made me start making music, despite the fact that I never had, and I couldn't play instruments, really. But it repositions all sound as music. And more enduringly, it repositions all emotion as song-worthy. It's emotionally complex, ambiguous. No classic tunes or sentiments on this record. This little guy lives in the cracks.