The Magnetic Fields – Realism | The Line of Best Fit

The Magnetic Fields

"Realism"

02 February 2010, 12:00 | Written by Sebastian Reynolds

(Albums)

(The Magnetic Fields)

Realism is an understated masterpiece that sees Stephin Merritt once again at the height of his lyrical and melodic powers. “You can’t just go round saying stuff / Because it’s pretty / And I no longer drink enough / To think you’re witty.” Right from the chiming, chattering psychedelic folk-pop gem of an opener, 'You Must be Out Of Your Mind', you know you’re in for another treat. Recorded entirely without synthesizers and almost all acoustic (‘real’) instruments, it’s a fascinating jumble of musical and metaphorical contradictions, and is also perhaps the most dream-like and surreal offering from the band yet. In interview, Merritt has sited one inspiration for the album as being his trawling the music shops of Los Angeles in search of new sounds, having decamped his studio there from his beloved New York. What he found in these West Coast music stores was a treasure trove of Central and South American instruments, and one of Realism's many charms is a rich feast of these bizarre and not-so-bizarre acoustic instruments. Classic Magnetic Fields elements are still present of course, from Merritt’s signature drawl to Sam Davol’s lilting cello playing and the cooing vocals of Claudia Gonson and Shirley Simms. And the lyrics are just as resplendent with that beautiful Merritt melancholy, in the vein of 'The Cactus Where Your Heart Should Be' (from 69 Love Songs) and 'I Die' (from I). This is a band that doesn't just have a back catalogue - they have a 'Canon', a universe of characters and musical tapestries that they've developed over 20 years that make them something quite special and unique. Speaking of lyrics, this record is something of a departure in terms of lyrical themes, with Merritt dipping more into the fantastical than before. Alongside the classic romantic ballads ('I Don't Know What To Say') and knowing folk pastiches ('We Are Having A Hootenanny') he introduces us to the occasional mermaid and werewolf. Not that any of them escape that same dry, world-weary wit: “On winter nights the mermaid sings / 'I was made for better things...'”. Addressing the people of Earth and Mars on 'Dada Polka', our faithful narrator beseeches us to “... do something - anything / Do something a little out of character, it won’t kill you." There’s something wonderfully perplexing and endlessly beguiling about trying to fathom Merritt’s actual take on the world: how much the arch cynic, and how much the hopeless romantic? How does he really feel about all his creations? Because, for all his toying with clichés, his dead-pan sarcasm and his occasionally biting put-downs, there’s still a tremendously endearing and uplifting spirit running through his words and music. Merritt's gift for empathy and compassion mean that his songs never feel trite or cheesy, and it's hard to imagine that they won't continue (to quote vintage Magnetic Fields) to “ring in your ears, down through the years, bringing a tear to your eye.” The record’s swan song, 'From A Sinking Boat', ends with the killer line: “Know that I loved you, / Know that I wrote my last words to you, / From a sinking boat.” A modern masterpiece. Seriously, go and buy this album. Look out for our interview with Stephin Merritt tomorrow!