Field Music are quick to apologise. The Brewis brothers, Peter and David – the twin creative forces behind the band – arrive a bit late from their soundcheck and immediately express regret for keeping me waiting. I assure them it’s no trouble; the extra moments to unwind after a long workday were welcome. Yet even after our conversation, they remain apologetic, asking if I need more time with them. This kind of warmth is what I anticipated, given their clever and thoughtful output over the past decade with Field Music and their solo projects. Still, it’s comforting to find they are as inviting as their music often feels.
Our conversation takes place just days after the release of their new album, Open Here. Once again, the band pulls off a feat they’ve mastered over the years: making their intricate, winding mini-symphonies sound both effortless and, crucially, approachable. Part of that comes from the warmth of their sound – bubbly synths, precisely funky basslines, crisp strings – but it also speaks to the brothers’ songwriting skill. They have a talent for inserting a memorable hook into their complex arrangements, and that’s no accident. It’s on full display in lead singles ‘Count It Up’ and ‘Share A Pillow’. Elsewhere, the title track is a compact baroque number reminiscent of ‘Eleanor Rigby’; ‘No King, No Princess’ rides a frantic drumbeat with cheerful trumpet accents; ‘Daylight Saving’ offers lush harmonies over plucked strings. Field Music may never top the charts or break through like some of their peers (think The National, Elbow), but that’s beside the point. What they’re creating is engaging, evolving, and open – right here.
David Brewis: We consider it our sixth album. For us, a proper Field Music record is one where all the songs are original and released across all formats. Write Your Own History, being a compilation of B-sides and rarities, didn’t meet that standard.
Peter Brewis: During recording, we just referred to it as ‘FM6’.
Let’s begin with how this album came together, and perhaps your overall creative process. You’re clearly seasoned at making records by now.
PB: It doesn’t always feel that way!
Do you still feel like you’re learning with each project?
DB: There’s always something new to pick up.
PB: Yeah, it’s always a bit of a journey into the unknown.
DB: I think we’re much more comfortable with certain aspects now. I feel more confident as a songwriter. But there are times when you wonder, ‘Will I ever write another song? It’s been ages.’ I’m going through that right now.
PB: Once the songs exist, we’re much more assured that we can shape them into something worthwhile. We’re also more confident in our ideas and in deciding whether to pursue them or not.
DB: Our ability to figure out how to make things work. Early on, that was really paralyzing.
PB: Another constant question is whether we have anything new to write about. And it always turns out we do.
I imagine that every time you enter the studio, something has occurred in the world or in your personal lives that seems worth turning into a project.
DB: Almost too many things.
So you feel there’s always plenty of material to work with?
PB: Not always. While making Plumb, I recall feeling bored with myself, so I wrote about that. But other things constantly arise. If I ever reached a point where I felt there was nothing to write about, I’d quit immediately.
I’m curious how established bands keep their momentum. When you start a new project, are you aiming to make something better, something different, or a mix of both?
DB: Honestly, it’s a mix. We’re always striving to write better lyrics – I think we’re writing our best now. And we’ve improved with sound, so we can attempt things we couldn’t before. But it’s hard to tell. At the end of a record, we ask each other, ‘Is this our best?’
PB: The goal is always to make our best album.
DB: Once recording finishes, the album becomes part of a larger narrative beyond just that record. It joins the musical tapestry that reflects where we’ve been over the past decade.
PB: I haven’t mentioned this to you, David, but I feel this album is something of a full stop for where we’ve been. Definitely in terms of the studio – we left our long-time studio after Open Here, as it was bought by redevelopers. Moving forward, we might do things a bit differently. It’s quite exciting. Sorry, I guess this is news to you!
DB: It certainly is!
PB: I just feel things need to shift, even if slightly. And honestly, we’ve already brought in a lot of new elements with this album.
Regarding the studio situation – were you given an eviction notice for your previous space?
PB: Haha, nothing that dramatic!
DB: We knew the contract was ending, but the bureaucratic process gave us more time than expected. We handed back the keys last Friday. We’re now preparing a new space.
PB: Every time I visit the new studio, I think, ‘I want to make a different kind of music now.’ Don’t you feel that? You think, ‘It’s going to sound different. It’s going to sound better.’
DB: Yes, but I try to do that with every song I write.
PB: I think it might push me to make music a bit differently.
DB: You know what? We’ll say all this, and to everyone else it’ll sound exactly the same.
I also wanted to ask about the social commentary on the album, including the title. Was that a deliberate political choice?
PB: It began as a joke. But it ended up fitting well with other themes on the album.
DB: I hadn’t even considered that, actually.
PB: It was already a song title. I was amused by those wall-mounted bottle openers in Travelodges. Then I started noticing the phrase ‘open here’ everywhere – on nappy packets, all over. So it was meant to be light-hearted, because there are some angry moments on the record.
I think keeping a sense of humour has been very important, especially in recent years.
PB: We didn’t want to trivialize any events on the record, but yes, it’s crucial not to lose humour. If you lose that, you’ve lost everything.
Let’s discuss the Field Music / Open Here Orchestra shows, which were recorded and streamed live on YouTube from Newcastle’s Northern Stage. How did those happen?
PB: It wasn’t a full orchestra – it’s our orchestra. We were thinking more along the lines of the Caledonia Soul Orchestra. I doubt we’d ever get a full philharmonic.
DB: We’ve always had strings on our records, but this one has more horns and flutes. We thought that to do the record justice in a big way, it would be great to do a few shows with all the instrumentation.
You’ve both had successful solo projects. How do you decide what’s a Field Music song versus what belongs to each of you individually?
DB: All our solo projects felt ‘complete’ from the start. Peter’s The Week That Was was a fully formed record; my School Of Language albums are cohesive collections. With Field Music, we don’t know it’s complete. We might discuss a direction in terms of sound or feeling, but it reveals itself as we go. The solo work is more conceptually coherent – you can’t achieve that when dealing with one person’s entire writing approach. Even when Peter and I write about the same things, we’re not a single entity. There’s always a push and pull, and I think that’s present on all Field Music records.
Open Here is available now through Memphis Industries. For more on Field Music, including upcoming tour dates, check out their official website.
