Nite Fields have always been so great. Just so, so great, always striking the perfect balance between experimental and coldly familiar, a chilly warmth surrounding their material, as few of it as there initially was. However, after two 7″s, Nite Fields made the big jump to a full LP. In the world of sending out a press release and working out a digital marketing plan for acts with only a scratchy 4 track to their name, Nite Fields putting out a fully-fledged record so quickly seems odd.
The jump straight into LP territory isn’t the only thing skewed about this band: despite being birthed from Brisbane, a place that regularly calls 30 degree days “a tad chilly”, Nite Fields have an icyness that permeates their every breath. It’s a different kind of goth music, not one that would necessarily quote Bauhaus or Nick Cave as inspirations. It’s hard to pinpoint, shying away in a corner, revolving between uncertainty and seduction. It’s very liquid and dense, with the instrumentation coming in thick and sticky.
The source behind this hijacking of the musical thermostat is Danny Venzin. He purrs and beckons, his voice a velvet monotone, droning between the angular bass and guitars, slipping away beneath the mechanic synth lines. He brings Nite Fields to a central location from where the music can spring back and forth. The whole Nite Fields gang is a bit of a dream team, actually. Liza Harvey also drums with Point Being, Chris Campion kills it on a daily basis with Multiple Man, and Michael Whitney used to play in CLEARING. Put that all together, and there’s a reasoning of how a band can come up with such a refined sound.
The dark, funeral parlour pop glimmers brightly throughout ‘Depersonalisation’. Regret, longing,and uncertainty are all central themes to the record, and all come through in wave after wave of droning haze. There’s a firmly alien aesthetic in place, twinkling and stretching particularly strongly on songs like “You I Never Knew” and “Prescription”. When Venzin and co. haunt at peak levels of despair, they inject a sense of dread in even the most optimistic of listeners. Even when no one sings, such as “Pay For Strangers”, or the majority of “Winter’s Gone”, a creeping doom frosts over their music.
From the death clang of “Come Down”, to the intimate duets of “Like A Drone”, Nite Fields do a fine job of making sad music. Things can occasionally simmer and linger too long, but with time, the work of Nite Fields’ debut sinks further and further into your skin. The icy tendrils get under your fingernails, unapologetic; a gothic shimmer that fits well within the current canon of unnerving post-punk this country is so capable of producing.