From Here We Go Sublime is the debut album from The Field, which consists of one dude – trance producer, Axel Wilner – straight out of Stockholm, Sweden. Axel really wasn’t shittin’ us when he named his album – more often than not it really and truly is sublime. Whether driving down the highway at night, watching red and white lights bend around the enveloping city, alone in bed with the lights off, or, hell, working out, if you’re into that sort of thing,
From Here We Go Sublime manages to lift and carry the emotional intangibles to a higher place.
Unfortunately, I really don’t know enough about electronic music to give a thorough review of the album. I can’t compare and contrast to other artists or talk about influences. I don’t know how this album will affect the genre, if at all. And I certainly don’t know what ideas are especially groundbreaking, and what choices would be considered trite. What I do know is that, since buying the album a month ago, I’ve fallen in love with it. It’s not much for physical intimacy but it’s been known to hold me at night, which is nice. And so I feel obligated to review this album in some fashion or another. I feel like you need to know.
Therefore, I’ve decided to write a “running review.” I’m going to write the review in stream of consciousness fashion as I listen to the album. The process will only take as long as the album runs. I will not pause it, stop it, rewind it, etc. I will start when the album starts and end when it ends. Whatever I’ve committed to paper at the end will be the official review. Who knows if this will work? My guess is no, but there’s only one way to find out.
So, without further ado, I bring you…
From Here We Go Sublime:
1. Over the Ice
Beautiful beginning to the album. Dubbed, fuzzy sounds over a persistent 4/4 beat. A dubbed woman’s voice comes in suddenly and disappears tantalizingly. The bass just fell away in favor of a wonderfully syncopated synth melody. Then the bass came back with a vengeance, accompanied by at least seven different sounds, all playing off one another to create a thrilling, jazzy syncopated melody.
This song, like so many of the songs on this album is quite hypnotic. In spite of the driving, yet muffled 4/4 bass, Over the Ice is a relaxing trip, like being thrust through the open plains in a train cabin, watching the world quietly rush past. I mean you really feel like you’re moving fast, but it’s the most peaceful bullet you’ve ever taken a ride on. The song ends with only the bass beating away, like a heart beat that will continue through the album.
2. A Paw in My Face
This track begins with an insistent high hat, like rain drops on a tin roof, coupled with dueling percussive keyboards, and the same 4/4 beat. As the song builds, picking up speed, and doubling the high hat rhythm, it all begins to feel like walking on the beach at sunrise, as the waves roll in over the sandy shore. There are a few people walking with you. An old man, trying to hang on to his youth, runs by in biker shorts. Five surfers battle for the right position to catch the right wave. The sun continues to rise and everything falls away into a funky sounding sample from the seventies.
3. Good Things End
As the title might suggest, this track opens with an incredibly ominous feel. The drum beat sounds like it’s being pounded out on a trashcan in a basement. An accompanying digital beat seems to build from the abscesses of your subconscious. Then, as if coming from miles away, a symphonic drone rises and is joined by the sporadic humming of an all male choir.
Someone keeps asking, “Hello?” and her voice echoes.
This song, if you haven’t figured, is both exciting and terrifying. It soars over a dark city defined by David Fincher (Se7en, Fight Club), over criminals, despair, and mayhem. It’s almost tribal in its insistence. Listening to this makes you feel not like a victim, but powerful, like this is your city.
4. The Little Heart Beats So Fast
Looped, staccato female moaning takes us immediately in a different direction. Coupled with an upbeat tempo, this is immediately an accessible, sexually charged…I want to say dance track, but it’s not nearly. I can’t imagine dancing to this, although I’m currently bouncing. It makes you want to move, there’s no doubt, and the synth melody and rhythms are downright nasty.
Here comes a second, counter melody crescendoing from the background to take over. The flanger, which is just a cyclical pitch adjuster, is working hard to give us momentum through the looping rhythms and melodies. I keep thinking someone is saying “Informer” in the background, but maybe that’s just my imagination.
5. Everyday
My first impression is that this song sounds like something Four Tet would produce. But that ended pretty quickly. It’s far too trance-like for Four Tet and it doesn’t bog itself down with nearly as many layers. All in all, The Field seems to thrive in its minimalism. The beats never get boring, and the musical through lines manage to be interesting as well as addictive.
Oh! He just ran the music backwards for a second, until we heard the sound of a woman’s voice being spun backwards as well. This short transition unleashed a beautiful sonic apex, in which all the previous elements were exposed as merely kinetic potential. The snare is popping harder than the bass drum which is relegated to the background. The looped voices build over fluttering notes giving wings to the butterflies in my stomach. I wonder why it’s called Everyday? Wup, no time to discuss now, we’re on to…
6. Silent
This was the first song I heard from the album. Pitchfork posted it not once but twice on their Forkcast. The Forkcast, by the way, is an amazing little playlist my dear friends at Pitchfork throw together every week with their favorite tracks. They just keep adding new songs. I think there are close to a hundred songs on the list by now. You can just press play and listen to the Pitchfork staffers favorite songs while you’re at work.
OK. That’s enough plugging for what most people dismiss as an overly pretentious online music ‘zine. But that’s what people thought of Rolling Stone when they were still relevant.
Sorry. This is actually my favorite track on the album. You wouldn’t know by how much I’ve decided to write about it. It’s the most hypnotic and it builds beautifully for 7 minutes, one element on top of another. For instance, the snare was just brought in at the 4 minute mark. Throughout, there’s been a looped voice-like sound providing the melody, by way of “Oooh”-ing. I can’t describe it well, I’m sorry, but it’s actually lovely.
If I were drowning in a green sea near the arctic, this is the song I would want playing as polar bears swim around my body in an underwater ballet, and penguins break-dance on the ice above my blue head.
7. The Deal
“The Deal” begins by pounding stakes into the ground. It’s somewhat of a return to the sinister feel of “Good Things End.” I believe a woman is calling to me from the depths of a canyon or bottomless abyss. It’s the kind of sound the Cocteau Twins built an entire career out of. Here, as is The Field’s tendency, the reverberating voice comes sparsely and cryptically. What does she want? I can’t tell if she’s happy. Perhaps, she’s mother earth, neither happy nor sad. She’s just building the world around her with every bellow and coo.
That’s ridiculous – “bellow and coo.” That’s not what she’s doing at all. I don’t even know what that means. I like this song but I feel like it’s something I might hear at Sea World. It’s kind of Enya-ish. Maybe that’s just the woman’s voice. But, the song seems to be using her quite a bit. Looped. The same few notes over and over again, as the music builds around her.
Yeah. Sea World. I feel like I’m watching fish. That’s OK, I suppose. It’s very relaxing.
Oh, he just used a weird electronic sound that sounded like it came out of an old Super Nintendo game, like Star Fox, and seemed completely out of place. Why did he do that? Man, a running diary right now is this guy’s worst enemy. Most reviews would just skip over that shit, but not me, motherfucker! I’m on to you! Don’t bring that shit in my house!
Jesus, this review is getting long. So is this song. We’re up to 8 minutes. I’ve run out of anything to say about it. Let’s just wait until the next track comes along.
Ten minutes.
8. Sun & Ice
Really beautiful opening. The high hat is gently working its way into the picture. 4/4 thumping – classic heart beat.
I’m tired. I should have done this review when it wasn’t so late and I wasn’t so tired. I’m impressed if you’re still reading. I probably would have quit by now.
Have you ever been inside a cave as a storm blows in and the wind howls outside? You can smell the rain, and if you look beyond the trees, you can see it coming and heading right for you. A big wall of rain, behind the howling wind. That’s what this song feels like.
Really cool thing just happened, the song broke, popped, scratched, and stopped, like the needle on the record was being jerked around. It only lasted for a second, followed by a brief moment of silence, and then the music dropped in right on the One. It was actually quite delightful and a very clever way to hit the apex without needing a long building crescendo.
9. Mobilia
This is a really cool song that sounds like two records with different bpm’s are being played simultaneously. For a while things seem to be working well, but every 20 seconds or so, the beats digress from one another creating a very trippy, anxious feeling.
As the song progresses, it begins to feel almost self-righteous, using horn-sounding melodies and a wild rhythm on the high-hat. I almost feel like I’m being led into battle. Albeit a battle in which all the soldiers are hopped up on codeine. But a battle, nonetheless. Freedo-[yawn]!
Eat your heart out, Mel Gibson.
And stop torturing people, you sick fuck!
10. From Here We Go Sublime
The eponymous track, and the last song on the album. As with all great albums, this one has only 10 songs, but this is another topic for another day.
The piano is being tapped insistently. Over which, a plethora of samples come and go along with a throbbing something that, for the life of me, I can’t describe. But the album does end with an old sample from a 60s song that I can’t pin point. It’s a bunch of guys, their voices distorted, singing “Shoo-bop, Shoo-bop.” It’s awesome and creepy. I bet this guy loves the Shining. That would make a lot of sense.
And that’s the end of the album! Yea! It’s over! I know this review was ungodly long and I’m currently just making it longer, but if you’ve made it this far, I’m sure you’ve gathered that this is a wonderful album and I hope you have the opportunity to listen to it.
Actually, you could have gotten that from reading just the first three paragraphs. Oh, well!
I will never do this again.
A review of Knocked Up would be superfluous. If you haven't heard of this film or read its nearly unanimous, universal praise, you probably live in a cave with an army of woolly mammoths, or are perpetually drunk off your ass. And I mean perpetually. Like, you probably have a martini IV hooked right into your aorta.
