Magnetic Fields

Singer and multi-instrumentalist Stephen Merritt was one of the greatest melodic geniuses of the late twentieth century. His work encapsulates decades of musical history, from operetta to Schubert, from cabaret to musichall, from Broadway to Nashville, from 1960s teen idols to 1980s synth-pop. Merritt’s genius also manifests in his arrangements, which are the complete opposite of what Brian Wilson and Van Dyke Parks had invented in the 1960s for melodic rock: rather than aiming for symphonic opulence, Merritt favors small (sometimes very small) chamber ensembles. In this way, his work has acquired a mythological, or rather anti-mythological, significance: instead of using melody to express the emotional life of a titan through grandiose sounds, Merritt uses it to convey the emotional life of any shy, introverted young person. Merritt could not be further from the ridiculous, grotesque harmonic splendor of Elvis Presley, the Beach Boys, or the Beatles. Melody before Merritt was an electric shock; with Merritt, melody becomes a “magnetic field.” Merritt was born in Boston but grew up in Hawaii, Germany, Tennessee, and Florida. A classical musical education, a passion for synth-pop, and an openly gay identity shaped his public life from an early age. From the very start of his musical career, Merritt focused on composition, leaving singing to his friend Susan Anway. What distinguishes the melodies of the Magnetic Fields’ first album, Distant Plastic Trees (Red Flame, 1991 – Domino, 2005), is their emotional calculation: each is crafted for maximum effect, borrowing ideas both from the most trivial kitsch of the 1960s and from the solemn melodic-rhythmic creations of Brian Eno and synth-pop. If tender, fragile pop songs like Railroad Boy and 100,000 Fireflies strike for their immediacy, and their introspective lyrics, the world of the Magnetic Fields immediately appears unusually innocent. The sense of fairy-tale wonder comes from the whimsical, childlike sounds of Kings, the electronic bubbles, and percussive clamor of Babies Falling. A sense of joy prevails in the jaunty cadence of You Love To Fail and the dreamy flow of Living In An Abandoned Firehouse. Some harmonic solutions are slightly more sophisticated, such as the piano music-box of Smoke Signals or Falling In Love With The Wolf Boy, halfway between folk ballad and baroque rondo. What makes his work unique, however, are the melodies themselves: fluid, elegant, even when spectral. The Wayward Bus (PoPuP, 1992 – Domino, 2005) marks a provisional peak of his vocal and arranging abilities. Perhaps for this reason, it also seems more overtly pop than the previous album. Merritt’s music fuses two diametrically opposed qualities: a sense of domesticity and a sense of the symphonic. The compositions could not be simpler or more elemental, yet they take shape within a lush chaos of keyboard strikes, cellos, trumpets, and guitars. The choruses convey an innocence and simplicity that belong not only to another time but also to another space. Much of his artistry, beginning with the opening When You Were My Baby, recalls the instrumental restraint and vocal harmonies of the 1950s, as well as the stereotypical 1960s sounds of Phil Spector and Tamla, as in the sprightly The Saddest Story Ever Told, half Mamas & Papas, half Donovan. His glorious craft derives from masterful arranging insights, from surreal juxtapositions drawing inspiration from all eras, sometimes reminiscent of the Penguin Cafe Orchestra: the march-like rhythm built with tuba, flutes, and bird calls in Old Orchard Beach, or the classical trio for harpsichord, trombone, and cello, plus a Renaissance contralto, in Summer Lies. It is even difficult to decipher what accompanies Candy beyond the tambourines and string section. The most complex production is on Tokyo A Go-Go, where voice and cadence mimic decadent-exotic stereotypes and the keyboards acquire a symphonic weight. If the Human League and Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark had ever pursued art, this is what it might have sounded like. Merritt gained confidence in his compositional abilities, and this confidence carries over into his singing. The next album, Holiday (Feel Good All Over, 1993 – Domino, 2005), is entirely sung by him. The album is slightly lighter and more disoriented. The arrangements are pared down to essentials but still include tuba (Johny Blood), cello (Sam Davol), and toys. The melodies are more brilliant than ever. The tunes of Desert Island and The Flowers She Sent stand on their own, relying solely on their precise structure. Deep Sea Diving Suit blends country with jingle-jangle textures, while the gentle melody of Swinging London is enhanced by a kind of accordion; Torn Green Velvet Eyes hides a tropical fanfare, and All You Ever Do Is Walk Away exudes folk-rock verve. The trot and baritone of Strange Powers accentuate the idea of a “poor man’s Brian Eno,” progressively established by the other tracks. Yet his chanting, nonchalance, and icy diction also recall many other irregular singer-songwriters, from Julian Cope to Stan Ridgway. Sensitivity, style, and intelligence. The EP The House Of Tomorrow (Feel Good All Over, 1993 – Domino, 2005) delivers even more wit and verve, despite a saccharine Love Goes Home To Paris In The Spring, which evokes a cross between Nat King Cole and Morrissey.

Merritt triumphs with The Charm Of The Highway Strip (Merge, 1994 – Domino, 2005), a concept album destined to become a classic. Assisted by singer Susan Anway, this humble rock craftsman surpasses the 1960s masters who inspired him—not nostalgically or kitschily, but purely technically—and redefines the melodic standard against which future generations will measure themselves. His melodious tenor and consistently restrained accompaniments are enough to outclass the reigning melodic artists. In the guise of an idyllic, dreamy folk troubadour, halfway between Donovan and Jeff Buckley, he produces poetic compositions like Lonely Highway and Crowd Of Drifters. As a Broadway-style arranger, he creates striking contrasts: Long Vermont Roads has a Caribbean percussion rhythm, yet its atmosphere is crafted in a classical style with harpsichord and flute; Fear Of Trains overlays a spiritual-like structure (accented by clapping) with a country & western framework (led by banjo); and the instrumental closing track, Dust Bowl, blends medieval and Hare Krishna tones. His immense melodic talent touches the tenderest (and most memorable) moments of folk-rock in the sweet serenade/lullaby Born On A Train (echoes of Blowin’ In The Wind as played by the hippiest Byrds) and Sunset City, syrupy and spiritual in the style of the Mamas & Papas (a sort of underproduced California Dreaming). From the sleepy chant of I Have The Moon to the solemn country ballad Two Characters In Search Of A Country Song, everything unfolds delicately, risking anachronism in the grunge era. Merritt is ready to take the big step from amateur soloist to full band sound. Get Lost (Merge, 1995 – Domino, 2005) is the first album where he allows contributions from other musicians. Yet the album—the darkest of his career—suffers from the typical malaise of a newly successful artist: spurred to emulate himself while simultaneously trying to balance the resources now available with his genuine vocation for humility. The nervy Velvet Underground-style electricity of Famous and the restless tribalism of The Village In The Morning do not belong to the serene melancholy of his art. The delicate With Whom To Dance, for voice and ukulele alone, and the hypnotic, minimalist The Dreaming Moon reclaim the purity of his beginnings, but elsewhere Merritt imitates himself clumsily. The insistent ska march and catchy nursery rhyme of You And Me And The Moon, and the tender music-box of All The Umbrellas In London, are tracks that adhere to the new aesthetic without sacrificing too much of his innocence. In the electronic bluegrass of The Desperate Things You Made Me Do, Merritt makes more conscious and mischievous use of studio equipment, perhaps tracing a path for the future. In addition to these structural flaws, the album shows some compositional fatigue: Merritt has scattered more than a few songs across various projects, and perhaps is beginning to run short on material. Although the “epigonic” roots of this music are clear, it is even difficult to find equivalents in rock history. Perhaps Gordon Lightfoot before becoming “orchestral”; but Donovan may indeed be the most apt reference. Citing synth-pop would be insulting, although in an ideal world—where that genre had not prostituted itself to the basest commercial desires—it could have been the proper compliment. Meanwhile, Merritt, having suddenly become famous, pursues other initiatives: the 6ths, collaborating with veterans like Lou Barlow (Sebadoh), Barbara Manning, Dave Wareham (Luna), and Stuart Moxham (Young Marble Giant); the Future Bible Heroes, a duo with Chris Ewen, who released Memories Of Love (Slow River, 1997), featuring the superb Lonely Days (though the music is by Ewen, anachronistic in the style of new wave and synth-pop, and the vocals are often by Claudia Gonson); and the Gothic Archies, a gothic rock project.

The 6ths’ album, Wasps' Nests (London, 1996), collects 15 of Merritt’s songs performed by other artists. Among the performers are Anna Domino, Barbara Manning, Mitch Easter (Let's Active), Chris Knox (Tall Dwarfs), Mark Robinson (Unrest), Dean Wareham (Luna), Mac McCaughn (Superchunk), and Georgia Hubley (Yo La Tengo). Each song is performed by a different ensemble. The album includes numerous classics, worthy to stand alongside hits by Abba (Here In My Heart, All Dressed Up In Dreams) or Burt Bacharach (San Diego Zoo), as well as Falling Out Of Love, You Can't Break A Broken Heart, Dream Hat, Movies In My Head, and so on. Given the scale of talent involved, the result is, to say the least, disappointing. Merritt launched a parallel project devoted to macabre and morbid tones with the EP The New Despair (Merge, 1997), creating Gothic Archies. Merritt places the ultra-depressed lament of It's Useless To Struggle against an unusual backdrop of piercing feedback, and draws on the solemn gothic of bands like Lycia for The Abandoned Castle Of My Youth. Yet there is a suspicion that behind the apocalyptic posturing lies a subtle joke from the master: Merritt seems to parody country singers like Johnny Cash in the martial ballad Ever Falls The Twilight, and City Of The Damned is sung like a Merseybeat nursery rhyme. Not to be underestimated (watch out for the sly Merritt!) are the zombie-like chants of Your Long White Fingers (accompanied only by guitar) and The Tiny Goat (solo piano), which in fact display memorable melodies. The project was presented almost quietly but has the stature of a classic. Merritt emphasizes both the melancholic and melodic aspects of his art, resulting in something like bubblegum music for graveyards. Merritt’s world is never faded, blurred, or muted; it shines with clear, luminous, and enchanted poetry, as if created by a philosopher barricaded in the comfort of his childhood, rejecting moral examinations, social obligations, and cosmic vertigo. All set against the backdrop of universal sadness. Every Merritt song is a barricade against life. Merritt’s intimate melodicism has few equals in the world. Morrissey, the homosexual singer-songwriter who immediately comes to mind, appears naive by comparison. Unlike Morrissey, Merritt possesses the class of a great author, not the cunning of a star. He knows how to construct a musical style and a poetic world that are deeply intertwined. His romanticism is dated (rooted in the idols of the early ’60s), as is his technology (staying with ’80s synth-pop), and his arrangements (still reflecting ’70s progressive rock). Not surprisingly, Merritt considers Abba the greatest rock band of all time.

The single I Don't Believe You (Merge, 1998) shows Magnetic Field at its most self-indulgent, intent in wrapping yet another cute melody in techno pomp.

The triple album 69 Love Songs (Merge, 1999 - Domino, 2005) is simultaneously his most whimsical and his least original venture. The size alone does not make it ambitious. As a matter of fact, most songs are variations on cliches. Mostly, they are imitations of music (if not specific songs) of the past. The catchy dizziness of his singing is both a blessing and a curse, as it masquerades the derivative refrains of intellectual avantgarde while exposing the fundamentally fragile musical infrastructure. The tender The Book of Love sounds like Bruce Springsteen singing the Everly Brothers. Let's Pretend We're Bunny Rabbits and If You Don't Cry are his heartfelt tributes to the synthetic beat of synth-pop (both also influenced by the girl-groups of the Sixties, especially the former). It's A Crime indulges in reggae moves, and the glorious The Luckiest Guy on the Lower East Side sounds like a calypso remix of Bob Dylan's Absolutely Marie. The bluesy, Tom Waits-ian Underwear and the tribal square dance I'm Sorry I Love You (with one of the catchiest refrains of his career) are the two peaks of energy. The intellectual exercise of The Death Of Ferdinand Saussure turns out to be jangling folk-rock. Impeccable melodies lull the soaring piano dirge Papa Was a Rodeo, the country singalong All My Little Worlds (a sped-up version of Gram Parsons), the stately mariachi-infected ballad Grand Canyon and the chamber aria Busby Berkeley Dreams. There is no shortage of melody for about three hours. Merritt does almost everything by himself, helped out occasionally by Daniel Handler (accordion), Claudia Gonson (piano), Sam Davol (cello, flute) and John Woo (banjo, mandolin).

Future Bible Heroes, virtually a duo of Merritt with Chris Ewen although augmented by Claudia Gonson's keyboards and drums, released the five-song EP I'm Lonely (Merge, 2000), their second batch of carefree synth-pop tunes. I'm Lonely (a revision of Gloria Gaynor's I Will Survive for the new century) sets the pace for the duo's decadent and mournful melodies (Good Thing I Don't Have Any Feelings, Cafe Hong Kong and a new version of Hopeless). Merritt only writes the lyrics (and sings). The music is composed by Ewen.

In the meantime, Stephen Merritt's side project The 6ths returned with Hyacinths and Thistles (Merge, 2000), another collection of sugary ditties performed by an impressive cast of guest vocalists (Bob Mould, Cowboy Junkies' Sally Timms, Altered Images's Clare Grogan, Saint Etienne's Sarah Cracknell, Marc Almond, Momus, Melanie, etc). uplifting and depressing at the same time Merritt is unique even when he composes easy-listening music (the 6ths being his "light" project compared with the Magnetic Field). The arrangements have the wacky classical precision and discrete timbric quality of the Penguin Cafè Orchestra. The renditions are so tidy and polite that they run the unlikely gamut from nursery rhymes (As You Turn To Go, over a dreamy zither) to classical lieder (He Didn't, for piano and baritone), from folk lullabies (Night Falls Like A Grand Piano, for piano and zither) to operatic arias (The Dead Only Quickly Decay, with grand piano, perhaps the most gorgeous tune), from German cabaret (I've Got New York, with toy piano) to Broadway musicals (Waltzing Me All The Way Home, for diva and accordion), from Petula Clark (You You You You You, for guitar) to girl-groups (Kissing Things, accordion and toy piano). Merritt's art is anti-conceptual: his songs are cute, languid, tuneful, tender.
Merritt prefers unusual and unaccompanied instruments, the tones of which are made to match the humble and affecting melodies. Percussions are notably absent in many of these "toy songs". Even more notable is the fact that many of these "toy masterpieces" are only one or two minutes long: Merritt is content with the embryo, does not need to watch for the organism to grow in a full-fledged song.
A virtual record within the physical record is created by the songs that tribute honors to synth-pop, i.e. to Merritt's musical roots. Drum-machines and synthetic (or natural) strings overflow in (Just Like A Movie Star, piano, strings, mellotron, and a melody that Elvis Presley would have died for), the (unusually) syncopated Give Me Back My Dreams, not to mention The Sailor In Love With The Sea (a Gary Numan tribute sung by Numan himself). These are the songs in which nostalgy is more palpable.
Merritt has managed a synthesis of historical proportions but with the attitude of an everyman who hardly knows anything about history.

Stephen Merritt's first album under his own name, Eban & Charley (Merge, 2002), is a film soundtrack (mostly instrumental tracks). His second soundtrack, Pieces Of April (Nonesuch, 2003), was a simple collection of old Merritt songs.

Future Bible Heroes' Eternal Youth (Instinct, 2002) is a mere footnote in Merritt's canon, but shows how the importance of arrangement and production took over the importance of lyrics and melodies in Merritt's music, and eventually wrecked the whole idea of innocent, sincere, heartbreaking music (Losing Your Affection, Find An Open Window).

Lonely Robot (Instinct, 2003) is a remix collection.

Merritt resurrected the Magnetic Fields for I (Nonesuch, 2004), an album of songs whose title begins with the letter "i", arranged with help from guitarist/banjoist John Woo, cellist Sam Davol, pianist Claudia Gonson (and no electronics). Except for the dance-pop number I Thought You Were My Boyfriend and the over-produced I Don't Believe You (already a 1998 single), the tone is consistently understated. I Looked All Over Town, Infinitely Late at Night, It's Only Time repeat a song that Merritt has been playing since his early days. They are pleasant, but also pointless, additions to his canon.

Showtunes (Nonesuch, 2006), credited to Stephen Merritt, compiles 26 songs for operas produced by Chinese theater director Chen Shi-Zheng: Orphan Of Zhao, Peach Blossom Fan, containing the leitmotiv Shall We Sing a Duet?, and My Life As A Fairy Tale. In a tragicomic mood Merritt unleashes his wit and his melodic talent in the tradition of Gilbert's and Sullivan's operettas. His arrangements blend Chinese instruments with western instruments and assorted exotic ones (marimba, steel drum, ukulele).

The Tragic Treasury - Songs From A Series Of Unfortunate Events (Nonesuch, 2006), mostly performed solo but credited to the Gothic Archies, is a concept that developed around Lemony Snicket's thirteen-volume children audiobook series, each song dedicated to one of the thirteen volumes plus the theme song We are the Gothic Archies. Surprisingly, this quasi-joke turned out to be the best of the albums released by Merritt since Hyacinths and Thistles. Despite the humorous premise, it was also unusually somber and even depressed, a fact that added substance to the songs in a way that previous albums rarely did. Thus Scream and Run Away and Nothing Is What It Seems sounded more serious than many of the past songs that Merritt had intended to be serious.

Merritt's album titles were always revealing and Distortion (Nonesuch, 2008) was no exception: Merritt had decided to immerse his poppy tunes in garage-y distortion in a way similar to what Jesus And Mary Chain did in the 1980s. Nonetheless accordion, cello and piano still feature prominently, and Merritt even adds a female voice, Shirley Simms. The instrumental Three Way is an impeccable reproduction of the anthemic organ progressions and spaced-out guitars of the early psychedelic era. Regardless of the pretext of the album, songs such as Old Fools (a stately aria over a piano carillon) and Too Drunk To Dream (a rowdy pub singalong) belong to the major canon of the auteur. The drawback, of course, is that there is nothing revolutionary about them, but then such was the case with most of Mozart's music too. For example, the repetitive refrain of Please Stop Dancing is a trivial construct by his standards. Simms rides The Nun's Litany (a stereotypical dreamy teenage lullaby), California Girls (a quintessential anthemic ditty) and Xavier Says (with echoes of Mamas & Papas) and quickly shows why Merritt felt he needed her: she has the quintessential "girl-group" voice. Most tunes do not serve any purpose other than Merritt's not-so-subtle post-modernist strategies, but a few reveal that he still has a soul (I'll Dream Alone, Mr Mistletoe), the soul that conquered the indie-pop and pre-emocore generation in the 1990s.

The acoustic Realism (Nonesuch, 2010), featuring cellist Sam Davol, guitarist John Woo, drummer Gonson, Johnny Blood on tuba, Ida Pearle on violin, vocalist Shirley Simms and accordionist Daniel Handler, stood as the alter ego of Distortion. Unfortunately, Merritt's songs lose quite a bit of their "value" when they are not surrounded by adequate arrangements.

Merritt's Obscurities (Merge, 2011) is a collection of rarities.

Having tested everybody's patience, Merritt resurrected the Magnetic Fields and proper arrangements (synthesizers and chamber instruments) for Love at the Bottom of the Sea (2012). Unfortunately, the songs were parodies of classic Magnetic Fields. The best one, Andrew in Drag, a silly cabarettish rigmarole, would have not made it to the final lineup of the nonetheless sprawling 69 Love Songs.

The 50-year-old Merritt decided to release 50 Song Memoir (Nonesuch, 2017), one for each year of his life. The songs are mostly performed by himself on an arsenal of instruments (ukulele, organ, piano, synth, guitar, dulcimer, autoharp, xylophone, percussion). It is difficult to salvage songs because there are prairies of filler between Haven’t Got a Penny (an academic essay on how to clone the Kinks and inject Caribbean accents a` la Jimmy Buffett) and the Warren Zevon-ian ode Be True to Your Bar, between the waltzing organ-driven gospel No and the childish rigmarole Come Back as a Cockroach. For every catchy refrain such as Foxx and I, Rock n Roll Will Ruin Your Life, and Hustle 76, there is an embarrassing waste of time such as 78 Blizzard of 78, Fathers in the Clouds, I Think I'll Make Another World, A Serious Mistake... The standouts reference a band that was almost the antithesis of the Magnetic Fields: the synth-rocking How to Play the Synthesizer sounds like a subdued remix of Suicide, and Surfin a twangy version by Duane Eddy.

Quickies (2020), released as five EPs, contains the single The Day the Politicians Died.