FIELD MEDIC “Light Is Gone” C36 (Sunroom Recordz & Salon)

Minimum fidum, the bedroom acoustic musician strain of Homo sapiens, observed in his natural habitat. Cleanly picked acoustic guitar with few embellishments. Sad, very sad songs. It’s OK to be sad sometimes. I’m sad sometimes. The moments where I’m sad, I imagine I’m a new strain of Homo sapiens myself, Tristitia hominis. Am I blowing your mind with all this Latin yet? I shouldn’t be. The computer’s on, internet browser’s active. Gently picked acoustic songs, sometimes with embellishments (like drum machines) are playing. I don’t know what made Field Medic, aka Kevin Patrick, so sad – something to do with a dentist in LA, presumably? It’s OK everybody, hugs. I see you got a Colin Meloy vibe goin’ on in the vocal regions. He’s a swell cat. A Tumescente cattus, if you will.

Field Medic

Sunroom Recordz & Salon

--Ryan Masteller

FIELD MEDIC “Fuck You Grim Reaper” C25 (Sunroom Recordz & Salon)

“Fuck this life, I want an afterlife, don’t need this rat shadow.”  Some of it is cloying, but some of it is pleasantly introverted and subtle.  “Antique Cup” is great.  Bedroom folk, surrender fantasy.  Fear, drinking, sighs of resignation.  On the b-side it says in sharpie, “tiny grandfather clock resting near the window in a stranger’s house.”  I imagine the golden child, lost & bewildered in enormous rooms.  Or a defeated version of young Bob Dylan, a precocious songwriter who doubts his will to carry on.  I also think of that Lee Ranaldo lyric, “we watched her fall over and lay down, shouting the poetic truths of high school journal-keepers.” 

--Kevin Oliver