These New Puritans - Field Of Reeds (2013) [Indie Rock]

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                                                                      ::k4:

       a r t i s t :: These New Puritans
         t i t l e :: Field Of Reeds
           d a t e :: 2013-00-00
         l a b e l :: Infectious Music
         g e n r e :: Indie
       s o u r c e :: CD
     b i t r a t e :: 223 kbps avg
     e n c o d e r :: LAME 3.98.4 -V 0
       t r a c k s :: 9
   p l a y t i m e :: 53:01
           s i z e :: 85.37MB


      tracklist

1   This Guy's In Love With You             3:03
2   Fragment Two                            4:34
3   The Light In Your Name                  6:03
4   V (Island Song)                         9:16
5   Spiral                                  6:03
6   Organ Eternal                           5:31
7   Nothing Else                            7:49
8   Dream                                   4:14
9   Field Of Reeds                          6:28




      releasenotes

On Field of Reeds?title and final track, Jack Barnett idly sings, 揧ou asked
if the islands would float away?I said, yes.?The answer comes back with a
dead-eyed conviction that makes it feel as if Barnett has lost sight of the
solid shoreline, something he'll definitely be accused of with These New
Puritans?third album. It sees the Southend group all but shed any assocations
they once had with the wider rock world, reinventing themselves as a
neo-classical ensemble. The result is an uncompromisingly self-possessed
record whose intimate qualities shouldn't be mistaken for an easy listen-- in
many respects, its clearest analog is Talk Talk抯 Spirit of Eden. It opens
with a Portuguese jazz vocalist, Elisa Rodrigues, singing a sparkling, barely
half-remembered version of Herb Alpert抯 揟his Guy抯 in Love With You? As it
ends, Adrian Peacock, who has the lowest known singing voice in Britain,
unleashes an apparently bottomless vocal drone, sounding as if he抯 humming
along to a Sunn O))) song, while Barnett chants in phonetics like a tricksy
goblin.
Despite releasing three markedly different albums over the past five years,
the Puritans have earned the trust of their audience, allowing them to go
wherever their iconoclastic spirit takes them. Their debut album, 2008抯 Beat
Pyramid, took the moony British post-punk phenomenon of the preceding few
years and made it nasty, agitated, and wholly uninterested in emotive
melancholy or accessible lyrical subjects. Numerology and olde magick were
central, though good luck trying to prise much else from it. 揧ou know I抣l be
thinking this music抯 symbolic/ This music is weightless, and when I sing, so
am I/ You抣l be slashing at the air, describing nothing,?Barnett sang with
deterrent glee on 揝words of Truth? He's been equally oblique describing
Field of Reeds. 揑抦 just putting one sound in front of the other and thinking
about what comes next,?he told the Guardian.
Its follow-up, 2010抯 Hidden, sounded like a strikingly, elegantly
choreographed war, at once global and gothic with its destructive beats,
mournful laments, and taunting vocals. And now, Field of Reeds is a stilled,
abstract pastoral of sorts, where the music seems to grow and swarm as
naturally as moss across rocks. Its closest modern peer might be Julia
Holter's equally pristine Ekstasis. Where Hidden traded in damning impact,
Field of Reeds uses Barnett抯 self-taught compositional prowess-- and the
borrowed skills of composers Andr?de Ridder, Michel van der Aa, and Hans Ek--
to explore the effects of memory, requiring investment on the listener's part,
too; 揝piral?seems to repeat a clarinet motif from Hidden; 揙rgan Eternal?
rekindles the glassy pulse of 揤 (Island Song)?with the resonator piano, a
riff that in turn strongly recalls 揟ubular Bells?
Field of Reeds was recorded over 12 months in three different studios. The
drums were added around structures determined by the strings, horns, and
magnetic resonator piano-- a haunted, silvery-sounding creation-- and barely
appear at all in the album抯 final third (Barnett has suggested there are
three movements here). Somehow, the effect is more intimidating than the parts
on Hidden where they smashed melons to simulate crushing a skull. The
spareness and sense of space on Field of Reeds is remarkable, the kind that'll
make you glance over your shoulder as beguiling mercury-slicked glows slip
into an overwhelming, sometimes vicious sense of anxiety; "There is something
there," as Barnett sings on "Fragment Two".
These shifts are made even more unsettling by the lack of aggression in the
playing; where Hidden抯 M.O. could be found in 揂ttack Music? on Field of
Reeds there抯 the sense that these glowing clarinets and strings are occurring
naturally, almost as if emanating from a landscape. Gone too is the obtuse
vocal phrasing that ran through Beat Pyramid and Hidden; Barnett has talked
about spending 揾ours going through each sentence of the lyrics getting rid of
all the consonants,?a defamiliarizing effect that makes his lines as slippery
and memory-foxing as the dream-speak in 揟win Peaks? It's as upsetting too;
Field of Reeds' quiet lyrical narrative seems to follow a period of loss;
first a person, and subsequently, trust in any kind of concrete meaning,
underpinned by the way lines disintegrate into phonetic babble. As his
fastidious techniques show, Barnett is a total perfectionist-- he proudly made
George play 76 drum takes on one song-- yet his control freakiness hasn抰
killed the record; the effect is naturalistic, and often deeply moving, rather
than in any way inert.
While Field of Reeds is a mysterious album in many ways, what it makes clear
is Barnett抯 faith in the purity of sound, rather than words, to communicate;
remember, "This music is weightless, and when I sing, so am I." By removing
any imposition of context, his words of consonants, his music of
attention-grabbing impact, his ensemble of rock band-status, he抯 created a
truly strange and beautiful record. Whether Barnett makes it explicit or not,
These New Puritans?songs have always been concerned with their South-Easterly
corner of the coast, the smoggy bowel of London where rusting World War II
fortifications stand demilitarized among the islands, just like the sounds on
this album. 揝ecret recordings were made in the marsh,?Barnett chanted on
Hidden抯 揥e Want War? It feels as though he finally trusts us to hear them
on Field of Reeds.

[url]www.thesenewpuritans.com[/url]



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ese_New_Puritans-Field_Of_Reeds-(INFECT156CD)-CD-2013-k4


AM 90, Pitchfork 84, Mojo 80, Q 80, The Guardian 80, NME 60


[b][color=Red]闷热的夏日午后，那大叔抱着小罗莉入睡前缺摇篮曲哇？这张最合适了！ ~_^[/color][/b]


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