I’ve read a lot about The Magnetic Fields but this is my first time writing anything about them. I’m pretty sure I haven’t even used their leader Stephin Merritt as a point of reference. Reading how different music writers react to Merritt’s lyrics is engrossing because they will eventually feel the need to disclose some long lost personal reminiscence about themselves. It’s a truism that might be best summed up in the opening line of “Busby Berkeley Dreams” “I should have forgotten you long ago/ But you’re in every song I know.”
Unlike the nostalgic pirouettes of that song, a Magnetic Fields concert doesn’t dance or even involve any standing or movement. A while ago, Merritt made the decision to only play theaters or seated auditoriums. Without the clank of beer bottles and small talk they are venues which require absolute silence, making it less of a rock show and more of a musically adept lyrical recitation. All of which worked against the last minute opening act Laura Barrett, who revealed she had bought tickets to this concert before being tapped as the opener. I’ve seen much worse performers, but few who left me as restless as she did. Barrett used her finger harp, with only minimal accompaniment, on every song over coy and snide lyrics about robot ponies and standardized testing. Listening to that instrument for 40 minutes is like having someone drum their fingers on your forehead.
The headlining set began sparsely with only Claudia Gonson playing piano while Merritt sang “Lindy-Lou,” a delicate piece from his all-star invitational moniker the 6ths, the first of four songs written for that project to be played that night. From the beginning, longtime bandmate and singer Gonson took it upon herself to play host to the audience while Merritt sat upon his stool, ukulele in hand and at his usual physical distance from his four accompanists. Later in the evening, and after a round of applause, she told the crowd, “We’d love to take you home with us, but there isn’t much room in our luggage.” To wit, Merritt responded, “Well…that depends on what we do to them first.” If you want an idea of the dynamic between those two since the beginning of their band – there it is.
As Gonson promised, the concert sampled from the whole of their discography; highlights for me were the selections from Get Lost. The ensemble plucked the grief of “All The Umbrellas In London” and the giddy charm of “You and Me and The Moon” from their synth-pop effort and transformed them into chamber-like string heavy meditations. Just as effective were the newest songs from their latest record Realism and its precursor, 2008′s Distortion. The extra voice of Sally Simms from both these records was put into poignant use on the freshly minted “Always Already Gone.” Additionally, her lead vocals on the riotous and revealing soliloquy “The Nun’s Litany” had the largely quiet D.C. crowd rolling in the aisle.
It was a two act concert broken up by a five minute intermission and littered with gems from Merritt’s magnum opus 69 Love Songs. Merritt’s lithe croon and lonely ukulele served him well on the pseudo-playboy longing of “I Don’t Want to Get Over You” as well as the solitary strum and hum country ballad “The One You Really Love.” Across the stage, Gonson’s lovely turn on “Acoustic Guitar” was helped along by John Woo’s sharp playing, which brought out the title’s texture, though her best moment would be subbing for Yo La Tengo’s Georgia Hubley for a dreamy cover of the 6th’s “Movies in My Head.”
Before finishing up with a brief encore, Gonson prefaced their final song with “This is the one Magnetic Fields song which became a radio hit.” As the crowd began to stir she quickly clarified, “It’s not ‘The Book of Love.’ That’s our most popular wedding song.” Instead they closed the night with “100,000 Fireflies.” While they wound down the song’s tender chorus, I reflected on those other writers once more. It had been my second Magnetic Fields concert and while it was a wonderful evening, the group was still not my confessional conduit. I love their stories even though they are not mine nor do I suspect they ever will be. Though like Merritt, I still think it’s dangerous to believe in Busby Berkeley dreams. On that point, we are the same person.
by Neal Fersko
[Photos: Brad Searles of 
