Field Music – ‘Limits of Language’ album review: it drank a jar of coffee then it took some of these
THE SKINNY: How do we make futuristic music without knowing what the future will look like? Field Music flourish fiddling around with this foggy notion, and produce a record in Limits of Language that sounds like a digital leap haunted by the analogue past. 20 years on from their formation, the Brewis brothers from the North East have hit upon a defiantly fresh sound and one of their finest records.
The record follows a rare four year gap for the prolific band. During that time it is evident that they have lost none of their verve. In fact, one of the great strengths of Limits of Language is that it is brimming with a sense of adventurous enthusiasm. From the bracing boing of the prominent bass to the mad smattering of clipped instruments, the album has an almost teenage quality to it, like punk at its best.
At times, it is manic, perhaps abrasively so, but straining through the melee as a captivating guide for the listener is the definitive presence of simple pop hooks. It’s in these moments that you imagine the Brewis brothers in the 1980s refining their sound and happily topping the charts. Alas, we’re not in the 1980s. And they’re not XTC meets Tears for Fears, we’re way further down the digital line, and Field Music’s blurring bombardment of pop and berserk jazz feels apt and energised by that very relevance.
This point is beautifully made on ‘Turn the Hours Away’ when the opening strum of a distant acoustic guitar sounds utterly puny. These clever and poignant production messages continue throughout an album that is difficult to decipher but promises plenty of depth and meaning for those who care to explore it. In Limits of Language, Field Music remind us that even amidst the chaos of modern sound, clarity and innovation can emerge — not in spite of it, but inspired by it — offering a vibrant and visceral take on the future of music, if not a touch overblown at times, while honouring the timelessness of pop at its groovy best.
For fans of: Re-analogising old episodes of The Prisoner to watch in their hip flat.
A concluding comment from Kratfwerk’s 1970s crystal ball: We envisage that in the future, two peculiar Mackems will explore the possibilities of our vision, and it will hit 23 in the UK charts.
Limits of Language track by track:
Release Date: October 11th | Label: Memphis Industries | Producer: Peter and David Brewis
‘Six Weeks, Nine Wells’: A pulsing ominous introduction that sounds partly Red Dwarf sound effect, partly Kraftwerk’s dream of what pop might sound like in 2040. Alchemically, this weirdness proves very catchy and erupts in a big indie chorus. [4.5/5]
‘The Guardian of Sleep’: You’ve got more look sleeping on a RyanAir flight to Alicante airport than during this, so the title, must be taken as one of those ironies. Intense clap beat madness with a grabbing Talking Heads bass sound. [4/5]
‘The Limits of Language’: I’ll be damned if this isn’t among the first avant-garde gym songs. A manic piece of pop is ideal for cleaning the house, like Kim Woodburn on speed. [4/5]
‘Sounds About Right’: A breath is taken as 1980s sentimental pop chords are revived for a jaunt into the record’s most minimalist melody. Brewis goes to Hollywood—complete with a clever title. [4/5]
‘Absolutely Negative’: Wild instrumentation turns a familiar melody structure into something absolutely mad, but far from absolutely negative. [4/5]
‘Curfew in the Square’: A heavier approach is taken to this post-punk effort. Whirring synths dominate the topline as crashing drums pound things along, and a tale of a city centre at about 18:56 on a Thursday plays out. Alas, some of the high-ends nearly burst your ear drums. [3.5/5]
‘Turns the Hours Away’: The record’s haunting mix of a futuristic outlook and retroism is most apparent on this sparse and pleasant song. [4/5]
‘On the Other Side’: It’s the longest song on the record, but it arguably has the least to say. A swooning and up-beat ’80s new wave track punched up with a heavy drum machine. [3/5]
‘The Waitress of St Louis’: Schematic and verging on the overwhelming, the synth sound from ‘Curfew in the Square’ returns and pierces through a jazzy scattering of clipped horns and crashes. [3/5]
‘I Might Have Been Wrong’: A potential ‘In the Air Tonight’ sample hints at the song’s steady building structure. What begins with a metronome ends with a waltzing groove that keeps its own time. [4/5]
‘Between the Bridges’: Sounding not unlike Nintendo, there are those who will immediately scoff at the tone of this track, but that only exemplifies the boldness that Field Music have displayed throughout this very singular record. [3.5/5]
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