There is a self-congratulatory element of Stephin Merritt’s work, the kind of which is either explained by fundamental insecurity or mind-blowing self-confidence. Either way, whether it is the heavy-handed ironosincerity of his most recent album titles (69 Love Songs offers just that, while Distortion is a collection of distorted songs and I is an album filled with songs titles that begin with the titular letter of the alphabet) or the adolescent wit of the songwriting, the man behind The Magnetic Fields seems eager for his audience to get the joke and revere him for it.
Unfortunately, at least for this listener, he’ll need to look elsewhere for reverence. What seemed like an inspired and charmed mid-term renewal of a career with 69 Love Songs has devolved into a novelty act. Perhaps that’s why everything on Realism, the artist’s latest release, seems so darn mean.
In Merritt’s defense (kind of), he’s always been a bit of a deadpan jerk, somewhat like that funny yet self-loathing guy who was in your group at lunch in the high school cafeteria, but that you didn’t want to spend large chunks of time with. There are tracks on each of his releases that make you wonder who exactly stepped on his heart and how many times, and this horse beating continues in full on Realism. So, the lashing out and whining is nothing new. It is just now finally stale. The famed morosity that prompted no less a grumpy codger than Bob Mould to declare Merritt the most depressed man in rock (see interview here) comes off one way when one is in their twenties or even thirties; by one’s 44th birthday, which the artist celebrated last month, the blah blah blues, no matter how clever and droll, is tired.
Which is a shame, really, because just as Realism demonstrates Merritt’s stalled narrative progress, it also demonstrates the man’s handiness with a melody and a hook. The thirteen songs on Realism amount well enough to the band’s hipstered approach to folk music, and while it often fails to equal good folk, it is just tongue-in-cheek enough to convince you that Merritt and his album allies could do so if they really dared to put themselves out on the line in a more sincere way. Played out “irony” aside, the arrangements you’ll find on many of the album’s tracks are impressive, from the simple but mobile album opening “You Must Be Out of Your Mind” to winkingly po-mo “We Are Having A Hootenanny,” and you are left with the impression that Merritt is a serious student of numerous genres, able to move at will between them, even if such movement is primarily satirical these days. The Scandinavian pop approach of “Always Already Gone” and the renaissance fest bar croon of “Seduced and Abandoned” further cement this conclusion.
Other tracks, like “I Don’t Know What to Say” and “Walk A Lonely Road”, demonstrate Merritt’s skill set when approaching more traditional Magnetic Fields fare. The artist’s baritone has only improved with age, as has Merritt’s apparent ability to hear himself within the arrangements, the sonic equivalent of an all-pro running back seeing the holes that few others can. One hopes that, as Merritt moves on to his next project he also evolves as an artist, making peace with relational ghosts and trading in the weary reliance on self-saluting irony for a risky challenge.
Realism, the tenth album out by The Magnetic Fields, dropped January 26th via Nonesuch Records. You can purchase it here.
