YCR at Wolfe Island

YCR at Wolfe Island

You’ve Changed Records is very happy to be participating in the 2012 edition of the always excellent Wolfe Island Music Festival. The Weather Station, Marine Dreams, Baby Eagle and the Proud Mothers, and Daniel Romano and the Trilliums, will be performing at the Island Grill beginning at 8pm on Friday Aug 10 to kick the whole wicked off. We’ll be right beside the ferry terminal. You can’t miss us.

 

YCR goes NXNE

YCR goes NXNE

3 years into our sordid existence as a World Class Record Label were going to Toronto to hang out with the brothers, the sisters, the mothers, and the big-shots at the NXNE festival! holy moly! This is going to be a thoroughly rad night; please come and join us for the good-times!

Here’s the details:

Thursday, June 14th
At The Great Hall Theatre
1087 Queen St. W.

9PM – Baby Eagle
10PM – The Weather Station
11PM – Marine Dreams
12PM – Daniel Romano
1AM – Julie Doiron

Poster by Daniel Romano, 2012

New Release: The Weather Station – “All of It Was Mine”

New Release: The Weather Station – “All of It Was Mine”

June 24, 2011 | Posted in: The Weather Station 0

This album was recorded stereophonically. The vocals were reproduced through a Royer 122 Microphone; rhythm, Royer 121; violin, apex 210; and guitars, Royer 121, Sennheiser 421. The session was recorded in December 2010.

At first glance, the second record by The Weather Station is a humble thing, gentle, warm. The elements are simple, finger-picked acoustics and three part harmonies, an unexpected snare drum, a stray electric guitar – the very opposite of songwriter Tamara Lindeman’s first record, the painstakingly arranged and darkly expansive The Line. And yet, All of it Was Mine is a record that appeared stubbornly.

She’d entered a studio, attempting a follow-up but was getting nowhere. Trying to do too much to the songs, trying to make them into something they weren’t. So, she took up Daniel Romano on his long-standing offer to record a few demos at his home studio in Welland, ON. The two played the songs one by one, arranging on the spot, recording with a couple of ribbon mics to a digital 8 track. From time to time, the incomparable Misha Bower (Tamara’s bandmate in Bruce Peninsula) came downstairs to sing harmonies.

Freed of expectation and ambition, safe in the hands of friends, the songs revealed themselves as folk songs, and it started to come easy. A good record is all timing, and this one was caught at just the right moment – the moment when a musician sets aside old habits and expectations, strips away the excess and finally just gets to the guts of the matter. In a matter of days, studio album abandoned, there was the record.

Lindeman’s lyrics stay close to home, detailing a creaking house in disrepair, a quiet side street, a seemingly idyllic summer; but also the heartache that comes in slyly, inexorably, as it always does, softly, like the moths that attack the flour. It’s beautiful, certainly, unabashedly so, but unsettled, all creeping nature, dirt and sweetness, accusation and acceptance. Short, small in scope, and curiously complete. Ten songs doing nothing more than speaking for themselves, quietly perhaps, but with grace, not one word out of place.

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