As most of you know by now, my album listening process usually features a blog, or some sort of write-up directly after I have finished listening to a record. I sometimes will listen to an album more than once if I'm not sure on the first go, but I typically like to give impressions that are fresh, typically after a long walk with my Ipod. For example, I didn't need multiple listens of Muse's latest record to notice the boring ballads and asinine ideology. Anyway, 69 Love Songs by The Magnetic Fields makes this process a bit difficult for me, simply because the album is SO FUCKING LONG.
Lead singer and songwriter for The Magnetic Fields, Stephin Merritt, sure had a set on him when he decided to record this epic record: Influenced by love, alcohol, and gay theatre, Merritt wanted to evoke every cliche, every sentiment, and every genre-typecast in a three volume concept album about love. It's widely considered the group's finest work, but is it any good? To quote my psychology Professor (A woman in her 20's asked if we needed to study Piaget's cognition stages) "Hell yes!"
For one thing, Merritt is a sharp writer; lyrics such as "The book of love is long and boring. No one can lift the damn thing ..." (From "The Book of Love") are just cynical and pessimistic enough without going overboard, retaining a sense of, well, truth. Merritt's melancholy is brilliantly general, to the point that practically anyone who has been in a relationship can bob their heads in agreement. THE MAN SPEAKS THE TRUTH; HE KNOWS HOW WE FEEL! Although mostly ambiguous, songs such as, "I Don't Want To Get Over You", --much like"William, it was really Nothing" by The Smiths twenty-odd years before it -- give sympathy to the male perspective of love, contrasting what our typical gender roles dictate: "I don't want to get over you. I guess I could take a sleeping pill and sleep at will and not have to go through what I go through. I guess I should take Prozac, right, and just smile all night at somebody new, somebody not too bright but sweet and kind who would try to get you off my mind."
Alcoholism, animal/plant similes, and pills (Among other forget inducing drugs) are all here, used by Merritt to tell his stories. Speaking of stories, the actual music is influenced (Obviously) by old story-telling country. Merritt will occasionally have some more elaborate arrangements, but typically, some chords, a few banjo licks interspersed, and a shit-load of reverb is all he needs. Merritt's near-hopeless baritone delivery gives the songs a great maudlin humor to them. Not only do his lyrics feel as if he's given up, but his voice as well. Merritt felt that variety was important with an album of this scale, so a few guest vocalists (And other members of the group) appear on certain tracks, singing Merritt's well-crafted words. Such is the case on "All My Little Words", which is the greatest "WHY WON'T YOU JUST FUCKING LOVE ME, YOU HEARTLESS BITCH!" song ever written.
Some may say that Merritt has a corny streak to him, and there is really no denying that. However, that is part of the charm of the entire record, and the band as well: It's one guy and a few of his band mates, playing some songs (Well, 'some' is a fucking understatement) that he penned about love, and it's different feelings, cliches, and stages. Artists that followed a similar approach: Elvis, Johnny Cash, Ray Charles, etc. Not to say that Merritt is a modern-day Elvis, or anyone of a similar country-greatness, but when you listen to a song like "I Don't Want To Get Over You", it's hard not to be mentally thrown into a 70's retro diner: kids dancing in the middle of the floor with an old jukebox playing classic love songs.
Despite its initial mood, the album isn't all negative and pessimistic; some of the tracks highlight the fun stages of love, such as early infatuation. What's so great about this is the way that the album's structure itself lends to the overall metaphor. After three smile-brimming songs about love, Merritt hits us with "The Cactus Where Your Heart Should Be". Basically, as the songs build up these moods of happiness in you, suddenly the melancholy returns to fuck it all up without warning; it's a great metaphor for unexpected relationship collapses.
If you couldn't already tell, THIS IS THE ESSENTIAL BREAK-UP/LOVE SONG RECORD. The songs are well constructed, well written, and well performed. Not all of them are great, but when listening to the first volume, featuring 23 songs, I was surprised that I liked nearly all of them. Even the acapella finger-snapping "How Fucking Romantic" made it onto my Ipod.
69 Love Songs really made me laugh at how worked up and emotional I used to get about girls; especially songs such as, "I Don't Believe in the Sun", which almost directly echoes a nihilistic comment that I had made post-breakup about a year or so ago. We're never self-aware in these situations, never realizing just how stupid and pathetic we look to all of our friends. Merritt nailed all of this and then some. Certain songs are purposely corny and whiny, because in love, we are corny and whiny. Certain songs seem a bit excessive and obsessed, because in love, we are excessive and obsessed -- just not in a weird way hopefully. Certain songs are carefree and happy, because ... you get the fucking point ^_^
(Some notes about the first volume of the record)
- I really love the lyrics to "Reno Dakota", especially this gem: "You know you enthrall me, and yet you don't call me; it's making me blue. I know you're a recluse, You know that's no excuse. Reno, that's just a ruse."
- Banjo in country-inspired Indie-Folk ain't half bad.
- "I Don't Believe in the Sun" has a very Lou Reed-thing going on, especially in the harmony, which is very "Perfect Day".
- Much like Stuart Murdoch from Belle and Sebastian, Merritt is a wonder at writing gender-ambiguous lyrics.
- I still have over forty songs to listen to in order to finish the record, but the first volume is already one of my favorite records, or I guess in this case, favorite 'volume' of a record.
- I initially discovered The Magnetic Fields because of Beirut's (Zach Condon's) latest EP, which includes his Realpeople electronic efforts. Beirut's Realpeople stuff was directly influenced by early records by The Magnetic Fields. Ironic because my favorite song of the year was from the Realpeople section of that EP.
(You can tell some of the similarities, especially in the writing.)
- I do intend to make my way through all of the group's records, however, I wish to tackle the sixty-nine track beast first.
Log in to comment