Magnetic Fields 10-26-08

George Washington University Lisner Auditorium · Washington, DC

BY ZACHARY HERRMANN

"I wish I had an orchestra behind me/ To show you how I feel/ Well, the orchestra remains imaginary/ But this little ukulele's real." So goes the endearing opening lines of Stephin Merritt's brief ditty, "This Little Ukulele," which he performed solo during the closing night of The Magnetic Fields' fall tour. With an all black backdrop, no instrument changes and little lighting variation throughout the night at Washington's Lisner Auditorium, the few stanzas sounded just as much like a band mission statement as they did a sweet personal note.

As live performers - rare though their appearances may be - The Magnetic Fields believe strongly in the power of open spaces. Partially due to Merritt's ear problems (it was painful to watch him wince and cover his left ear every time the audience applauded), the band sticks to a soft, acoustic format, sans percussion. The five-piece band, including vocalist Sally Simms, had little trouble filling out the reasonably small theater. But especially with each member spaced out across the entire stage, everything aurally and visually evident suggested a larger imaginable presence.

Since the earliest Magnetic Fields albums, Merritt has gone to work with a pocket-sized Wall of Sound, creating rich synthesizer environments - electronic, digital creations with sharp, analog depth. Later, across the three volumes of 69 Love Songs (which pianist/vocalist/manager Claudia Gonson said would hit vinyl some time next year), the pop-symphonies became more organic, shaping the mold for the recital-style Magnetic Fields live show.

It's admittedly odd at first to hear "Lonely Highway" without The Charm of the Highway Strip's familiar, chugging synthesizers; even stranger to digest the stripped down translations pulled from last January's Distortion. What once erred closest to The Jesus and Mary Chain's Psychocandy came out more like Beck's Sea Change or Big Star's more orchestral moments on Third/Sister Lovers.

"California Girls" - "a song about killing girls ... in California," Merritt quipped during the song's introduction - lost some of its biting edge without the resonating layer of guitars. However, in its place the juxtaposition provided by Sam Davol's cello, served the put-down well. Undaunted by the sonic shift, the Magnetic Fields went through seven more of the songs from the latest LP. Only "Zombie Boy" and "Too Drunk To Dream" suffered noticeably from the new arrangements, both of which have too much invested thematically in the cacophonous album mixes to work as well in their sparser incarnations.

More often than not though, the breathing room provided by the clean acoustics lent itself to the storytelling, reluctant though the troubadour may have been. Dressed in a khaki cap, shading his eyes from clear view, and a light jacket, Merritt seemed to bring a bit of the night chill in with him. His vocals, bouzouki (think tear-drop shaped guitar) strumming and overall presence was heartfelt, if slightly obligatory.

Gonson was all too happy to take the spotlight in his place, providing the lion's share of the night's witty banter. "Hello sea of blackness," she said while addressing the audience for the first time of the night, although the comment could have just as easily been directed at Merritt. Throughout the two sets, Gonson bickered (in good humor) with Merritt over everything from the Olson Twins (Merritt's a fan, Gonson "see[s] them as the people about whom ‘California Girls' is written") to starting cues and the appropriate length for song intros.

Her spunky inflections, not to mention vocal counterbalance to Merritt's doom-and-gloom baritone, leveled out the gravity in the darker, unrequited laments ("No One Will Ever Love You," "Give Me Back My Dreams"). Even though the songwriter is morose to a "T," Merritt has always been known to air all ends of the spectrum in respects to love: from unflinching desolation to slightly cheerier black comedy.

His shtick stretched a little thin as the novelty of actually getting to see the band perform faded. Enjoyable as the show was, it's apparent why Merritt doesn't play live more often - it just takes too much out of him.

The Magnetic Fields has always been Merritt's show from the start; same goes for The 6ths and the many other names he writes under. He's the lone genius and bears the weight of his talents as so many other artists do. Outside of the studio though, he needs his collaborators. The strength of his songwriting - the dry, sardonic wit and adult nursery rhyme wordplay - has taken him the long haul, 17 years to date. It's the rest of the band keeping him afloat, continuing to transcribe his dreams.