Album: 69 Love Songs
Artist: The Magnetic Fields
Born: Boston, Massachusetts
Released: September 1999
Genre: Indie Pop
When I first came across the title of this album, I seriously doubted (like many people, I'm sure) that it actually contained 69 songs. How wrong I was – they may not all be love songs, but there's definitely 69 of them. Stephen Merritt and The Magnetic Fields initially planned a suite of 100 songs, but ended up with three volumes of 23 tracks on a triple CD. What's surprising with such substantial quantity (in total, nearly 3 hours of music) is how high the quality is too. The one consistent trait throughout the album is Merritt's mournful voice and sharp wit, while the songs vary wildly between musical styles, from the Nick Drake-inspired folk of The Book Of Love to the dirty, squeaky dance beats of Fido, Your Leash Is Too Long. Much of the album is acoustic, featuring a diverse range of instruments from banjos and mandolins to cellos and accordions, but the influences are wide-ranging. Merritt most often gets compared with musical theatre genius, Stephen Sondheim, owing to the quality of his lyrics and the drama of his compositions. I also see The Magnetic Fields as the US equivalent of Belle & Sebastian, creating a perfect brand of indie pop that was completely out of step with the times. What's so refreshing about Merritt's songwriting is that it's completely free of cliché; in fact, he often sets about deconstructing pop clichés in many of his songs. In The Book Of Love, Merritt adopts two positions, one of the cynic ("The book of love is long and boring / no one can lift the damn thing") and another of the besotted ("But I / I love it when you give me things / and you / you ought to give me wedding rings").
Writing a review of the entire album would be impossible, and few people would take the time to listen a 45-minute album nowadays, let alone 3 hours, so I'm just going to focus on some of my favourite moments. The dreamy ballad All My Little Words, the bossa nova rhythms of I Think I Need A New Heart and the show tune feel of Parades Go By and The Luckiest Guy On The Lower East Side are all highlights on the first side. This theatrical quality to Merritt's songs has inspired so many artists, from Rufus Wainwright to Antony & The Johnsons. On side 2, I love the country-tinged Grand Canyon and Papa Was A Rodeo (which reminds me of Steve Earle), as well as the Celtic folk of Abigail, Belle of Kilronan and the accordion-soaked Asleep & Dreaming (reminiscent of Tom Waits). For me, the best side is the last, even if it contains a cheesy ABBA tribute, It's A Crime. Heartfelt ballad Busby Berkeley Dreams is a standout track ("Well darling, you may do your worst / because you'll have to kill me first"), while The Night You Can't Remember adopts a very different tone, telling the story of a soldier's one night stand. For We Are The Kings Of The Boudoir sounds like a Gilbert & Sullivan song set in Elizabethan times, while Experimental Music Love is a tribute to the avant-garde, from Can to Phillip Glass. Often, Merritt has his tongue in his cheek, but just occasionally his sincerity breaks through and the effect is electric.
When I first came across the title of this album, I seriously doubted (like many people, I'm sure) that it actually contained 69 songs. How wrong I was – they may not all be love songs, but there's definitely 69 of them. Stephen Merritt and The Magnetic Fields initially planned a suite of 100 songs, but ended up with three volumes of 23 tracks on a triple CD. What's surprising with such substantial quantity (in total, nearly 3 hours of music) is how high the quality is too. The one consistent trait throughout the album is Merritt's mournful voice and sharp wit, while the songs vary wildly between musical styles, from the Nick Drake-inspired folk of The Book Of Love to the dirty, squeaky dance beats of Fido, Your Leash Is Too Long. Much of the album is acoustic, featuring a diverse range of instruments from banjos and mandolins to cellos and accordions, but the influences are wide-ranging. Merritt most often gets compared with musical theatre genius, Stephen Sondheim, owing to the quality of his lyrics and the drama of his compositions. I also see The Magnetic Fields as the US equivalent of Belle & Sebastian, creating a perfect brand of indie pop that was completely out of step with the times. What's so refreshing about Merritt's songwriting is that it's completely free of cliché; in fact, he often sets about deconstructing pop clichés in many of his songs. In The Book Of Love, Merritt adopts two positions, one of the cynic ("The book of love is long and boring / no one can lift the damn thing") and another of the besotted ("But I / I love it when you give me things / and you / you ought to give me wedding rings").
Writing a review of the entire album would be impossible, and few people would take the time to listen a 45-minute album nowadays, let alone 3 hours, so I'm just going to focus on some of my favourite moments. The dreamy ballad All My Little Words, the bossa nova rhythms of I Think I Need A New Heart and the show tune feel of Parades Go By and The Luckiest Guy On The Lower East Side are all highlights on the first side. This theatrical quality to Merritt's songs has inspired so many artists, from Rufus Wainwright to Antony & The Johnsons. On side 2, I love the country-tinged Grand Canyon and Papa Was A Rodeo (which reminds me of Steve Earle), as well as the Celtic folk of Abigail, Belle of Kilronan and the accordion-soaked Asleep & Dreaming (reminiscent of Tom Waits). For me, the best side is the last, even if it contains a cheesy ABBA tribute, It's A Crime. Heartfelt ballad Busby Berkeley Dreams is a standout track ("Well darling, you may do your worst / because you'll have to kill me first"), while The Night You Can't Remember adopts a very different tone, telling the story of a soldier's one night stand. For We Are The Kings Of The Boudoir sounds like a Gilbert & Sullivan song set in Elizabethan times, while Experimental Music Love is a tribute to the avant-garde, from Can to Phillip Glass. Often, Merritt has his tongue in his cheek, but just occasionally his sincerity breaks through and the effect is electric.
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