The Singles Jukebox

A picture of him would probably have been even less interesting, tbh…

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[6.53]

Alfred Soto: Did you come yet? Did you? Almost…
[6]

David Raposa: It’s two two two TWO Sublime-like Field tracks in one! But don’t think of it as a retread! Because it’s not! It’s like a cleaner, danicer version of the previous album’s uneasy bump-filled ambience! With more pronouced wordless vocals and instrumental samples! Like guitar! And it comes with a bonus slot-machine-jackpot interlude! And a sample “reveal” at the end (steel drums!) that’s not as shocking as learning that Lionel Richie’s “Hello” was hiding behind the curtains! But that’s more like a showy parlor trick than anything! And it’s still great! Like this track!
[8]

Alex Macpherson: The Field’s crossover success has long baffled me: the thin, bassless sound of From Here We Go Sublime is just so pale and unremarkable compared to the many other techno artists aiming for a similar lush dreaminess (Minilogue, Pantha Du Prince, James Holden). On “The More That I Do”, real drums add a little more oomph, but The Field’s limited sonic palette and tendency to meander once again make it first negligible, then tedious. Another point deducted in honour of the many fine techno albums of 2009 which will be overlooked in favour of this bemusingly popular artist.
[3]

Jordan Sargent: People often ask why The Field, of all minimal techno acts, has crossed over to indie rock fans. It’s a legit question with an obvious answer: Axel Willner’s music — and more importantly, the atmosphere that he creates with his music -— is soulful, comforting and warm in the way the sun is when there’s snow still on the ground. At face value his songs are distant and metallic, but just when they seem impenetrable is exactly when you get caught up in their soft embrace, and it’s this tangible heart that separates The Field. “The More That I Do” doesn’t re-arrange his formula -— though it does sound bigger -— but that’s still more than enough.
[9]

Chuck Eddy: Piston-like beats, up and down. Opening and closing, changing gradually, clanging then chiming, not devoid of beauty. Vaguely symphonic, sort of. No idea how people-in-the-know would classify this, beyond “electronic.” Pretty sure I got the point in the first 30 seconds (wasn’t all that interesting a point.) And not obsessive enough to justify repetition unto eternity. (Actually, this track is probably a lot shorter than it feels like.) But I can see how somebody might get sucked into the trance of it. (“Trance” as in what it does, not the genre. Though I might actually prefer the genre. Though I get the idea this is generic, either way; I just couldn’t tell you who exactly it sounds like.)
[6]

Martin Skidmore: Less minimal than one expects from a Kompakt act, but it has some things in common: it hits a basic rhythm and sticks with it, and there are glitchy fragments, very possibly microsamples, of some thing or things in there too. It has a sheen that is a little more mainstream, almost trancey, but the overall feel is more like the days when ‘trance’ meant techno, Trance Europe Express days rather than Paul Van Dyk. This is a little Teutonically cerebral, even rigorous, for my dance tastes, so I find myself admiring more than enjoying.
[7]

Dave Moore: Boring but at least useful if you need music that leaves no trace whatsoever of having listened to it. Probably a decent tune to file your taxes by.
[5]

Martin Kavka: The goal isn’t to decide whether or not this is good; I don’t see how anyone could say that it’s ineffective (at least for the first five minutes), even when not under any artificial influence. Rather, the goal is to draw a distinction between this track’s effects and those of its source material, Cocteau Twins’ “Lorelei.” And here this is lacking; “Lorelei” is otherworldly yet accessible, while “The More That I Do” loops around itself and forms an iron cage around the listener. By the end of it, I need a drink.
[6]

Michaelangelo Matos: I read somewhere that the beginning of this sounded just like the beginning of his first single, the towering “Love vs. Distance” from 2005. Maybe in the whooshing fade-up, but this is body music in a different way, in that it seems aimed straight for the hips in a way the Field’s other music wasn’t. I’m reminded of the most recent Luomo album, the way it streamlined its sound in a way that was less heady than the early work but probably more agreeable with larger crowds. So is the way the Field makes his loops feel larger, song-like, not ebb-and-flow as in taking some instruments out and then cramming ’em back in to explode, but the subtle but very real changes he stretches across eight minutes. And then, in the last half-minute, he gives the game away by throwing in the telltale sine wave from this record’s secret model, Jam & Spoon’s remix of “The Age of Love” by the Age of Love.
[8]

John M. Cunningham: Structurally, this doesn’t stray too far from the entrancing minimalist template Axel Willner relied on for his 2007 full-length debut; at the same time, it’s needlessly grittier and more echoey than the immaculate vacuum-packed loops on that record. I don’t begrudge Willner for wanting to fuss with a pretty strict formula, but this feels like a step in the wrong direction.
[5]

Renato Pagnani: What I like about this is that Willner gives it enough room to really stretch out and unfurl, that the track’s eight minutes don’t feel indulgent or unnecessary. Its length is vital here; a protracted duration would have rendered its build-ups and releases null. Instead they feel earned on their own terms and all the more rewarding because of it. The more Willner does, the less different his music sounds that one might imagine, but that’s because he’s developed a sound rather than simply a style.
[8]

Rodney J. Greene: While Axel Willner’s trademark thin-sliced sample coldcuts are in abundance, this is more expansive and Balearicized than his usual restricted palette would allow. He may just be rolling with the times, but most of the state-of-stasis mesmerism that drove From Here We Go Sublime is lost in transition.
[6]

Andrew Unterberger: I’m a little disappointed that they didn’t change it up just a little more — you could’ve told me that this was one of the tracks I could never remember from the second half of From Here We Go Sublime and I’d likely have believed you. But you do have to recognize that there really aren’t many artists in any genre that can do as much with just two chords as The Field can, finding new revelations in them with subtle melodic adjustments and gorgeous atmospheric touches and the like to keep the song compelling throughout its 8:00+ run time. Maybe next album, though, to keep things interesting… a third chord? Just a suggestion.
[7]

Ian Mathers: From Here We Go Sublime matched its title in part because it was so cunningly sanded and polished until no rough edges or textures were left; Axel Willner pureed Kate Bush and Lionel Ritchie into such a fine-grained, soothing blend that it really was the aural equivalent of a warm bath. “The More That I Do,” complete with live-sounding drums, is halfway between that and Willner’s live, kraut-rockish jams with !!!; if it wasn’t eight and a half minutes long it might not work but over that span of time his mastery of gradual, repetitive forward momentum is spellbinding. The Field’s earlier material was like being rubbed down with warm towels -– this is like being strapped to a great, whirring machine.
[8]

Matt Cibula: Not a great “single” per se, as it’s about 28 minutes long and only has two chords and the vocals are just stabby samply vowel noises instead of words, and out my way that just don’t get played on the radio. But as a shimmering epic dance track it is quite beautiful throughout, nicely layered, quiet Swedish existential desperation peeking through here and there. Ultimately, though, it isn’t the 1990s anymore, and this isn’t “The Long-Ass Pretty Yet Aimless Club Track Jukebox.”
[6]