Album Review: Mint Field - Aprender A Ser: Extended (felte)

Mint Field, the Mexico City duo of Estrella del Sol and Sebastian Neyra, is a pair of heuristic topographers, delineating the liminal thresholds between conscious cognition and the velvet drapery of REM sleep. Their latest, Aprender A Ser: Extended, is a shadow-drenched companion to their 2023 full-length album, synthesized from the same recording sessions but cordoned off into its own autonomy. Born from a mountain of tracks recorded in isolation, Mint Field perceived the original body of work as too dense for a single traversal; thus, inviting listeners now to linger in the session runoff as this mini-album.

The duo's move from Tijuana to the sprawling metropolis of Mexico City in recent years heavily influenced this album. While their earlier work captured the dusty, sun-bleached melancholy of the borderlands, one can hear the wide-open Baja California skies and desert haze in their 2018 debut, Pasar de las Luces, Aprender A Ser: Extended is concrete cooling after a sweltering day, and the profound loneliness one can experience in a city of twenty million. The instrumentation is palliative and disquieting. Neyra’s bass lines evoke the monochromatic geometry of a Tadao Ando building. Over this foundation, del Sol’s vocals drift like a gossamer filament threatening to crack under the pull of the cavernous reverb. That sense of nocturnal architecture will feel newly literal in Bucharest when Mint Field come to Control Club on Saturday, February 14, sharing the bill with Avishag Cohen Rodrigues.

From the opening of “Hasta el anochecer,” Mint Field envelops listeners in twilight. The title translates to “until nightfall,” and indeed feels like the waning glow of day. Del Sol’s vocals are barely above a whisper. Neyra’s bass comes through warm and clear, while guitar lines sit at the edges of perception where the languid atmosphere in each note breathes. Like Portishead, they favor patient rhythms and minor keys for melancholic calm. The late-night throb and sparse drum machine in this track create a perfect late-90s Bristol-at-dusk vibe.

“Sensibilidad dormida” gently stirs that tranquillity with lyrics like, “Despertó la sensibilidad dormida / Voy a hablar de las cosas que me dan miedo” (“The dormant sensitivity awoke / I’m going to speak about the things that scare me.”). A subtle, insistent drumbeat and walking bassline give this second track a slightly quicker pulse. Yet, the song remains airy and restrained.

By the time we reach “Recuerdo de los días,” the duo allow a bit more brightness through. This third track, meaning “Memory of the days”, begins with a delicate drum-machine pattern. The bass meanders in an almost singsong way, weaving around the echoing guitar plucks. del Sol’s voice floats in, distant and wistful. There’s a subtle upbeat undercurrent urging us out of yesterday’s haze. It’s the pressure valve where Mint Field’s dream-pop and shoegaze influences meld most melodically.

All of these threads finally converge in the closing track, “El mar me veía.” Translating to “The sea was watching me,” the track opens in near-silence, with sparse guitar notes and distant bass. Gradually, layers accrue; one courtesy of guest artist Mabe Fratti, whose cello drifts in with haunting strokes. The band lets this aqueous atmosphere build unhurriedly. Del Sol delivers part of the vocals in an almost conversational tone. There’s poetry in her delivery – intimate and unguarded –, and it draws the listener closer just before the song reaches its catharsis. Around the two-and-a-half-minute mark, “El mar me veía” surges up: drums, guitar, bass, and cello all join in the swell in purposeful unison. As the instruments collide, the song becomes a gorgeous and fitting conclusion.

Mint Field has now guided us from dusk to dawn. In doing so, Aprender A Ser: Extended not only expands on the album’s contemplative thesis of “learning to be,” but illuminates it, revealing that even in the stillest of moments, there is a profound movement deep within.