#The Nields #Katryna & Nerissa Nields #folk rock #contemporary folk #alternative rock #indie rock #Americana #1990s
Where do you start with the Nields? Let's say that for twenty years you've wanted to write about the Nields, to help spread the word about their music but also to solidify your sense of why that music is so compelling, so worth your time. Where do you start? You could start copy-editorially. For example: There once was an indie folk-pop-rock band from New England called the Nields, and their name involved a grammatical joke. The band's principal members were the sisters Nerissa and Katryna Nields. Nerissa's husband, David, changed his last name from Jones to Nields and played guitar in the band. They called themselves the Nields. No matter how many people named Nields form a group, however, they collectively aren't the Nields. To be the Nields, they would each need to be named Nield. An "s" makes Nield plural. Since in reality they are each named Nields, together they are the Nieldses, "es" making Nields plural. The Nieldses might hang out with the Robertses and keep up with the Joneses. (If Nerissa, Katrina, and David had all been named Jones, they'd probably have named themselves the Jones.) Of course, you can understand why a band wouldn't want to go by the unwieldy name of the Nieldses. Why would they want to go by the ungrammatical name of the Nields? It's funny! A group of indie folk-pop-rock New England young people follow the lead of, say, the Osmonds, who were brothers, or the Ramones, who weren't. But in this case having a cool-or-at-least-coolish-sounding name means embracing a grammatical error. In this way the Nields resemble the long-defunct indie pop band Let's Active, whose name was meant to convey a faulty translation. Or they might be distant cousins to Led Zeppelin, who embraced the power of a spelling error because it looked, you know, heavier. So much for copyediting. Alternatively, you could start with the Nields personally. For example: For a couple years in the early '90s I lived in the same cozy corner of western Massachusetts as the Nields, or the Nieldses, or Nerissa and Katryna Nields and their bandmates. The name the Nields popped up frequently in that area, the Pioneer Valley, to the point of being annoying. I imagined their music was annoying too: cutesy, cloying, crunchy-folky.
By the summer of 2001 I was living in Manhattan and finally saw the Nields perform as part of a series at the base of the World Trade Towers. The Towers stood on an inhospitable, perpetually windswept concrete plaza with terrible acoustics. I have trouble believing that the Nields, homespun hometown heroes of the Pioneer Valley, played in that incredibly unlikely spot, below the twin phalluses of capitalism, but I know they did, I didn't dream it, because at their merch table after the show I bought their 2-CD set Live from Northampton (2001). Through the years that I'd lived in Amherst, MA, I'd spent time in nearby Northampton, but never set foot in Northampton's Iron Horse Music Hall, because no one I wanted to see ever played at the club. Now, years later, I proudly owned a live album recorded there. After seeing that phenomenal show at the base of the World Trade Towers, which was sort of like seeing a band of hobbits at the base of Sauron's tower (hobbitses, Gollum calls 'em, at least in the movies), I urgently wanted to support the Nields because as people they seemed so nice and genuine, because their songs were so catchy and inventive, and because I needed to hear more of the sisters' breathtaking, otherworldly harmonies. I remember asking at the merch table which of their recordings sounded the most like the show I'd just heard. On September 11 of that year, the World Trade Center was destroyed. At some point after that, I wrote to the band and thanked them for their show, which had humanized a forbidding location and left me with--at long last! and in the end--a warm memory of that place. Nerissa sent me a charming reply, saying the show had meant a lot to them too.
It was only in writing this piece that I discovered that Nerissa and Katryna's roots are in New York City. And if you started with the Nields historically, you'd visit their Wikipedia page and website (https://nields.com; see also https://nerissanields.com), then present facts such as that they formed in 1987 and have released, as of this writing, 20 recordings, from the out-of-print 66 Hoxsey Street (1992) to the state-of-the-state, furiously political November (2020). Their Wikipedia page and website and Discogs fudge on that discography, though, because some of the recordings are by the Nields and some are credited to Nerissa and Katryna Nields. In any case, if you were starting musically, you could discuss any or all of those recordings, which are so sparely and tastefully produced that they still sound fresh. You might say that Gotta Getta Over Greta (1996), their bid for mainstream success, rocks and makes the band's Beatles influence explicit with a fun cover of "Lovely Rita." Play (1998) unexpectedly draws on alternative rock and psychedelia, name-checking Ani DiFranco but drawing on equal parts Throwing Muses and Buffy Sainte-Marie--and if you think I'm kidding, sample the kickass, weirdass, rhythmically off-kilter track "Tomorrowland." If You Lived Here You'd Be Home Now (2000) trades alternative rock for classic rock and employs a wide instrumental palette. Live from Northampton, the final recording by the original five-piece Nields, provides an excellent career overview and lively introduction to the Nields' special blend of influences, powerful playing, and impassioned vocals.
The description folk-pop-rock might lead readers to think they know what the sisters' music has sounded like all these years, but prior experience with other music of this kind doesn't convey just how ferocious, somberly beautiful, or playful the Nields can be or how attentive to textures they are; these aren't your average strumming or picking folkies. Nor, more importantly, does it tell you what happens when Nerissa and Katryna sing. The sisters' voices individually display great flexibility, but in harmony those voices seem to draw strength from each other. With my untutored ears I can't tell whether they ever aim for the same note, but the notes they hit seem harmonically suited yet tending in different directions, sort of like Kate and Anna McGariggle's harmonies but wilder. The image that comes to mind is of two violins, with each bow at the same place on the same string yet angled in its own way so as to inflect the note. Meanwhile, the making of that note conveys joy, which becomes ecstasy as notes lead into higher ones. The characteristic Nields sound is of two voices swooping effortlessly, like birds barely having to flap their wings as they ride air currents. On the sisters' recordings over the decades, they gain greater and greater control over that motion. From: https://www.furious.com/perfect/nields.html
