I don't think The Weakerthans' John K. Samson is opposed to being called a poet — any more than someone is opposed, in that general way, to being labeled any one thing, of course. Innumerable (and generally glowing) reviews have branded him as such, and a telephone interrogation of the man hints at a certain informed resignation regarding self-promotion.
His love for both the written word and the politics of human interaction are well documented, and his lyrics demonstrate a literary substance and resonance not usually associated with what The Weakerthans' Web site demurely calls "a four piece power pop band."
What Samson surely opposes are the cliched connotations of the poet being misunderstood and willfully ostracized — the perpetually heartsick loner, scribbling away his demons in a closed circuit of catharsis. Or, more pointedly, their application to him. He's in a kick-ass rock group from Winnipeg, fer Chrissakes, not on Walden fucking Pond.
"I don't believe in writing for therapy. And I don't think that what we do can exist in a vacuum," says the singer. "What we do requires an audience. That's really important to me, and that's one of the reasons why we travel so much — to try and reach people."
Samson formed The Weakerthans with fellow local punk scenesters Jason Tait (drums/musical saw), John Sutton (bass) and Stephen Carroll (guitar/vocals) more than five years ago, after leaving Propagandhi, a cult-legendary Canadian political thrashcore outfit. People still ask him about it — all the time. No, really, all the time, to Samson's alternating amusement and chagrin ("I speak about Propagandhi at least once a day, whether I want to or not"). There's no big story there, and it's likely pretty tough and tiring to constantly try to explain an intangible lack of fulfillment to people who want to hear about drama.
"What I'm doing now is an extension of what I did then. It's important to me. But I've never come up with an appropriate answer for anyone about those issues," he says. "What am I supposed to say?"
After taking some time away from music, during which Samson co-founded the anarchic Arbiter Ring press, The Weakerthans formed and developed the material that would become 1998's debut full-length Fallow. Anyone expecting a variation on his former affiliation's high-bpm hardcore, however, had another, decidedly softer thing coming.
Fallow's eclectic, dynamic guitar-pop spent better than two months lodged near the top of the CMJ charts. Lyrically, the political content was there, but more intimately addressed, using personal vignettes and choices to illustrate larger themes. The band licensed their work for release in America through SubCity Records, a socially conscious offshoot of punk imprint Hopeless that donates a sizable percentage of each record's sales proceeds to a charity of the artists' choosing. Their debut benefited Winnipeg's Mount Carmel Clinic (www.wpggc.org/html/mount_carmel_clinic.html), a venerable community-funded health center that provides a wide variety of medical and social services.
The follow-up, 2000's Left and Leaving, benefits another grassroots Winnipeg institution, Art City (www.mts.net/~artcity/).
It's also pretty much flawless. Slightly more roots- and country-influenced than its predecessor and having daringly incorporated more offbeat instrumentation, Left and Leaving offers a finely textured listen that nonetheless finds room to rage.
Ably riding everything from unaccompanied acoustic guitar to crashing anthems, Samson's contemplative wordplay spins universal notions out of hometown figures and landmarks, which poignantly, if briefly, render the big questions small enough to deal with on a person-to-person basis.
In terms of the mainstream, Left and Leaving is easily one of the most potentially accessible albums to come out of the punk scene in years. Any one of its tracks could (and, by all rights, should) find widespread acceptance on modern-rock radio. But these days, it seems like such a thing can only be forced to break through by dint of some major label's deep, deep pockets. The Weakerthans certainly have more than enough political and personal-conviction reasons to want to stay out of that blender; however, even if they didn't, Samson offers a much simpler and more obvious assessment.
"The industry is a pyramid scheme, it's a scam, and artists are at the bottom," he says. "And I don't really want to be a part of it. It doesn't make financial sense to me. Ethically, sure, I have concerns, but it hardly even matters to speak on them. I think the most interesting band in the world right now might be Wilco, and they've been dropped twice by major labels. It's just absurd. I don't want to be part of that."
The group's near-constant touring schedule and respectable record sales earn them enough to pursue their passion full-time. Their commitment to DIY methods, word-of-mouth and earnest expression has also paid off well, resulting in a continually growing and unusually obsessive fanbase. And unlike many seasoned underground-circuit travelers, they still tap easily into that joyful exchange that made them want to take to the stage in the first place.
"I'm very happy with where we are right now. We can go to places we've never been before," says Samson. "And if only 30 people show up, it's 30 people who are there because they want to see us play. It's a real privilege to be offered the chance to communicate with people."
Music critic Scott Harrell can be reached at 813-248-8888, ext. 109, or e-mail him at scott.harrell@weeklyplanet.com.
This article appears in Aug 21-27, 2002.