One more post before I take some time for the holidays and the new year. I always find this time a good one for reflection. Did I reach my goals? Am I better off now than I was at the beginning of the year? Is the world better off? What could I have done better last year? And of course, with what art did I connect?
The answers to those questions are, in order: Somewhat, in some ways, absolutely not, too much, and too personal to explain in this post, and plenty but not nearly enough.
Reflection calls for music to set the tone, and therefore Windy Fields’ self-titled collection of songs does the trick. Windy Fields is the project of Ontario’s own Robin Matchett, a multi-instrumentalist crafting soundscapes in their home. Though elements of DIY recording come through – tape hiss, room noise, metronome ticking, and natural reverb – each instrument and vocal layer sounds crystal clear, creating a dreamy in-between feeling for each track.
The record has many highlights, including Matchett’s excellent folk guitar skills and vocal harmonies. It gives off Swim Camp vibes, or – to relate to a Start-Track artist – ghost orange. For a more mainstream comparison, think Fleet Foxes. The musicality shines, and Matchett’s ability to layer the guitar allows songs to build and flow and shimmer in all different directions. Other instruments feature as well, including lead guitar work from Jeff Zober, trumpet and trombone from Jason Savery, and background vocals from Raven Matchett.
This album is more of a collection of songs Matchett wrote over the past decade, and therefore song lengths vary, with some consisting of minute-long sketches and others stretching to over five minutes. But regardless of time, each song carries great emotional depth, touched with inspiration from family, friends, love, and small personal moments. The album exudes nostalgia, like a soundtrack for a montage of old family videos, where the picture has started to fade and blur on new HD screens.
When it comes to reflection, the album’s opening tracks, “Gentle Breath” and “Santa,” make for great music, sounding like cozying up next to the fireplace while snow falls outside and staring into the heart of the roaring flame. “Santa” strangely evokes childhood memories of spending time with family during the holidays, looking back on happier and more innocent times, and realizing those will drift further into the past.
It’s almost hard to come up with a defining element of each track, because I find as I continue to listen – proceeding through energetic drum-powered songs like “Some Things Can’t Be Explained” and “Clouds Will Never Look the Same Again” – I end up meditating on those questions. I want to believe everything has a reason, but sometimes that reason lies under so many questions and so much doubt that it feels better to chalk it up to chance. And as for clouds, I do find myself realizing that clouds never look the same, and that a cloud one second could become a different one in the next. Perhaps all things can change on a dime, without explanation, and there is no winding ourselves up over it. There is only moving forward.
By “Glance”, an instrumental with soft laughter at the beginning of the track, I have fully lent myself to the music, letting the loops wash over me before the roar of tape hiss kicks in and blends directly into “End of Old Times”, where Matchett’s lyrics confirm that all memory exists in the fading past, drifting like a “River” which spills into the great ocean of the universe, which stretches far beyond our reach.
“Clustered Constellations” feels like lying out in the snow at night as a kid, bundled up in layers, and counting the stars, then looking up as an adult and realizing those stars are still out there, and – for the most part – will be long after I’m gone. “Bloom” gets post-rock (think Explosions in the Sky) and uplifts the spirit, making me remember that compared to those stars, my time in this world is quite short, and I should spend it focused on the people and things I love as much and as fiercely as I can.
By the time “Pearline”, “Halcyon”, and “Until Next Time” close out the record, I have given almost forty minutes of myself to deep meditation, remembering and reconnecting myself with the people I love, the things I enjoy, and the kind of person I want to be. Everything that has happened has happened, and nothing can bring back either the beautiful moments of the halcyon days or allow me to repair the damage I caused through my actions in my past life. So I get up and go to work on my future, leaving the album for the next time I need it.
Your mileage may vary when it comes to self-reflection, of course. But if you need some background music for your mental explorations, Windy Fields’ debut collection does the trick. A decade of work has come to fruition, and the clear passion in each song may help you to reunite with your passions as well. Take a listen below, and of course, happy holidays.
Written by Will Sisskind
