Field Report WIP

A google search for "midwestern depression" should, in a perfect and accurate world, turn up, first page, references to Chris Porterfield's Field Report project.  Once associated with Justin Vernon (of Bon Iver fame) back in the days when the pair were in DeYarmond Edison together, both apparently managed to - however independently - successfully touch on and embrace a certain aura, a certain chaotic existential rural gothic thing, that only living in the midwest can incarnate. While Vernon tended to focus more on the abstract of it, on his critically applauded For Emma Forever Ago, Porterfield targets his semblance in a more conversational form; penning lyrics to downtrodden, yearning compositions that almost seem like overheard drunkard's laments at the local dive bar, or phone calls made to a dear and trusted friend, in a moment of dilapidating angst or despair - e.g., "we fucked up and we won't admit, he said we fucked up and we won't admit it", in the confessional line repeated, almost redundantly, in the album's closing track "Route 18".

While Field Report's immediate appeal could be seen as hit or miss to most, with a debut album comprised of ten songs laid out in a succession that seems to make each more destitute than the one that preceded it, the opening track "Fergus Falls" is about the most upbeat track on the record - and that's by some considerable stretch of one's interpretation.  You won't find any anthem rockers on this, no catchy pop hooks that make it likely and easy to sing along to, no melodic guitar solos and certainly nothing you'll want to listen to in the car to lift your spirits on a Monday morning on your way to work.  What you have here, instead, are a series of bleak and depressing compositions that will speak to all that is empty and desolate inside of you; the uneasy feelings you tend to not want to look too hard at (and certainly not illustrate), the bitter despair and the empty satisfactions you find in the things that offer very little.  So why, and in what setting, would Field Report's music be fitting and appropriate?  Well... get drunk, feel sad and cry yourself to sleep. Think about all you should have done, could have been, would have said if only something else had been.  You'll need Field Report to bring that out of you, thoroughly nurture it so you can embrace it appropriately. Because who knows what you'd do otherwise, and quite frankly, in case you forgot this in a modern world where social media pop-culture fosters the impression that we're all happy and content and doing well: we're not. We're all miserable and sad deep down inside, and we all want what we imagine we deserve and should have attained.  As sung so poetically on the album's fourth track "Taking Alcatraz": "..and if we die here, well at least we made a choice... and a line in the sand don't matter if you don't care.