Field Report: Interview

"Leave the lights on, 'cause it might be nighttime when I get there, but I'm on my way home."

It's lines like this one, from "Home (Leave the Lights On)", in which folk band Field Report's honesty, musicianship and emotional accessibility come together. Marigolden, their sophomore album, wrestles honestly and beautifully with heavy topics like loss, being separated from loved ones, and alcoholism.

Field Report stopped in Minneapolis last week as part of the Communion Club Night series, happening in nine U.S. cities monthly. Despite a busy schedule and a successful and intimate show the The Varsity, they slowed down long enough to answer a few questions.

First of all, I just wanted to thank you guys for taking the time to answer some questions! How's the tour going so far?

Tour has been great. It feels good to be back on the road, and playing these songs for people who are just discovering the record.

You're promoting the debut of Marigolden right now - how are things different this time, compared to Field Report's past tours?

Every time you go out, you learn a little more about how to do it better. We're touring this as a trio, and it's amazing. We're recreating the record pretty accurately every night.

As you've grown as a band and as musicians and have had the chance to explore other musical communities more deeply, what do you think about the Midwest music scene? How do you think it cultivates such powerful musical presences, especially in the folk genre?

I think it's still coming up. The best thing that artists can do to grow a scene is to keep collaborating with new people and supporting what other bands are up to. There's a good community vibe in the Midwest, but it can always be stronger. That, and tour a lot. See other scenes and learn from them.

Marigolden has been getting some pretty rad reviews, and everyone is talking about how strong Chris's songwriting is. It seems to me that good songwriting always comes out of struggle and internal wrestling, like a grain of sand in an oyster.

Struggle can inspire art, but so can joy and peace and comfort. You get to a point where you just have to be sensitive to inspiration whenever in comes from whatever direction. Songs are all about questions-- the good ones don't give you answers. So the form naturally lends itself to trying to work through something.

Tell me about recording in a snowstorm in isolation in Ontario! What prompted that decision? What did that bring out in Marigolden?

We worked with Robbie Lackritz, who has a studio a few hours north of Toronto. We went there in December, and it was a wonderfully isolated experience. The session was vegetarian, substance-free, and we took nightly saunas. We all ended up losing weight and and great skin. And we were able to just focus on the session.

There's this connection between "Wings" and "Marigolden", this common thread of flying. In "Wings", it's painting this picture of precarious flight and there's a buildup to a point where it feels like the ground is about to fall out beneath you. It's very eerie, ominous. Then, in "Marigolden", it's this narrative following a character, there's a connection, it's personal - and then the plane freefalls into nothingness. What's the connection there?

That's a good observation. I try to leave enough space in these things for the attentive listener to find their own space to live in. But there are definitely breadcrumb trails that connect one song to another. You may have discovered one. But I don't want to give too much away.

You've talked about the made-up word "marigolden" as this word that describes perpetual cultivation of something that is never finished. But I also get this feeling out of the word, the ending track "Enchantment", the whole album, that there is a flicker of hope, something you can make out in the distance - as one lyric puts it, "squinting to make out silhouettes". There's this chronic ache, but a belief in something brighter ahead. It's something that, ultimately, drives you to take two steps forward even if you have to take one back. What do you think of that?

I buy it. There are darker moments on this record, and they are important, but ultimately I want to convey a sense of hope that we can all do better. But that it isn't easy, and if it's easy, it probably won't keep. Change, if it's possible, is very very slow.

This whole album sounds like a yearning for this concept of home - not a "house" home, but a "big-H" Home. What are you yearning for? What does "Home" mean to you?

Home is more than a place. It's a state of balance and well-being. It's the people you love. It is our best available versions of ourselves.

Field Report's album Marigolden is available on Spotify and iTunes.

-- E