The funny thing about Chris Porterfield is that he often speaks in the second person. You’ll be talking to him about something that, by all tropes and accounts, is deeply personal—maybe too much so for having just met him—and then he just turns it back on you. It’s like he’s saying that these issues don’t just happen to him; they affect you, too.
Since his band Field Report debuted in 2012, Porterfield resigned from his day job in the office of student affairs at Marquette University and quit drinking. These are some pretty major decisions for a 33-year-old dude living in Milwaukee. And just five minutes post-introductions, Porterfield is already doing what he does best: telling his story in a way that could totally be about you, too. “You kind of gotta wait until the universe tells you that the time is right,” he says sagely. “There’s a rhythm to these things, and if you jump off too early it’s like you’re swinging on a vine or something. You gotta time it right where your desire and your force of will is combined with the structural realities of your situation.”
Jumping off at the right time worked for Porterfield two years ago, and now Field Report returns, albeit in a bit of an altered state, with its sophomore release. A made-up conjoined word, Marigolden represents the marigold flower’s supposed resilient nature, as well as the golden hue of beginning anew. But, as Porterfield explains, you actually have to replant the northern flowers in order for them to grow each year. Likewise, Porterfield himself is the only remaining member from the group of musicians who recorded the first self-titled album.
Some of these changes in Porterfield’s life over the past two years manifested in the most positive songs Field Report has ever written. Marigolden’s lead single, “Home (Leave The Lights On)”, elicits comparisons to the Travelling Wilburys in its folk pop and handclaps. Later, on “Summons,” a similar sense of belonging returns amidst subtle swooning pedal steel guitars.
“Home isn’t necessarily my house that I’m in right now,” Porterfield asserts. “It’s a bigger thing—it’s when you are in harmony with the people you love.”
And while he’s found that place now, Marigolden encapsulates the search for it. He continues, “Home doesn’t necessarily have to be a place, other than a state of harmony and balance. And there was a lot of disharmony and imbalance in my zone as this record was being written.”
That two-year journey to find a realization of home generated a sense of displacement and despondency that’s also apparent on Marigolden. And even though he’s soft-spoken in conversation and darkly poetic in his lyrics, Porterfield remains unguarded about his life and experiences. He maintains that Marigolden is not a sobriety record, although those substance struggles reveal themselves in key places. It’s so clear, in fact, that fans have offered to be AA sponsors after hearing some of the new songs at solo acoustic shows that preceded Field Report’s current tour.
So when Porterfield, unprompted, offers stories about his relationship with alcohol, a conversation about substance abuse ensues. We reference some of our creative heroes—ranging from Robin Williams to Jason Molina—who battled with alcoholism and depression, as well. “Truly though, those guys, they suffered a little bit publically, but mostly privately,” Porterfield says sympathetically. “And it’s that private suffering and feeling like you’re so alone in all of it. It really does change your brain. It changes the way that you think and process information and how you understand yourself in the world. And that’s the scariest, most dangerous part of it all. So I think being a little more public about it, not only does it share your experience with other people and let them know that they’re not alone going through it, but it can also provide a little bit of accountability for yourself, too.
“I’ve been working at this now for about 10 months, and I still think about drinking everyday. I miss it and I mourn it and I love it, but I just can’t do it. I try not to frame it as, ‘Oh, it’s been this long!’ or ‘You’ll never have another drink again!’ It’s just gotta be in the moment right now that day. I never want to make it seem like it’s something that I’m through the other side of, because it’s not. It’s something that I’ll just be in forever. There isn’t some happy ending.”
That cyclical nature of struggle affected Marigolden, too. You can find it in the specific sequencing of the record, like how Side A ends with the stark and mournful piano ballad “Ambrosia” before Side B launches into complex layering and synthy glistening of “Wings.” Later, you can find it on the penultimate “Summons,” which as Porterfield notes, could have been the happy ending to Marigolden. But instead, he chooses to close with “Enchantment,” whose narrator “cash[es] in his 30 day chip.” That character, says Porterfield, is “off the wagon and driving drunk through the desert and has some king of experience with either God or an extraterrestrial or something, and it just gets weird. I wanted to convey that there isn’t a tidy wrap-up. It’s just something we keep fighting every day.”
Field Report’s journey doesn’t always mimic Porterfield’s, but the singer/songwriter has gained a sense of clarity along the way that’s apparent in both his lyrics detailing the struggles and discussions about them.
“The more that we shy away from those kinds of things or want to be dishonest about it, we don’t do a service to the good that could be done,” Porterfield states staunchly. “Substance abuse goes hand-in-hand with mental illness, and we don’t talk about that enough. I feel like if we did, we’d live in a better place.
“Actually,” he continues, “My wife likes to say that if everybody in America could get a massage and go to therapy twice a month, we would live in a better place!”
We laugh together at the seemingly simple solution, and Porterfield’s genuineness reflects in his lucidity.
“We just figured it out!” he exclaims. “We’ve cracked the nut!”