The Town Hall is located in Midtown Manhattan, a part of town I would normally avoid like the plague, but anything for you, Magnetic Fields. I am muy happy with my 5th-row seat and settle in to watch the opening act, The Interstellar Radio Company, a highly unconventional choice for a show kickoff. They briefly explain that they would be performing a sound play to tell a story, not unlike an Orson Welles radio drama, and proceeded to read, in its entirety, Edgar Allan Poe's The Telltale Heart. The mild-mannered, pushing-30s narrator transforms instantly as he begins the tale, mastering the persona of a chilling madman, and quite a loud one at that, which is necessary to drown out those audience members who prefer the cramped lobby to this unique opener. Other members of the group create every sound effect imaginable with various food and household objects, emulating the dismembering of a body and the creak of floorboards without missing a trick. Not the most conventional of opening acts, but then again, a nice change.
After a short pause, Stephin Merritt walks on stage and assumes his usual position on a stool on house right. Distortion may be the most conventional rock record from the Magnetic Fields to date, but there were to be no Flying-V antics in store for us tonight. Claudia Gonson sits at the piano and tells us about the last time The Magnetic Fields played Town Hall, when she unsuccessfully sang a rendition of "If I Had a Hammer" and how she had "erroneously announced that Tony Bennett had died, when in fact, Tony Randall had died, and was mocked the next day in PageSix." The real question: what was a PageSix reporter doing at a Magnetic Fields concert? The paparazzi are nowhere to be seen, however, as the Fields begin with "When I'm Out of Town," a song written for Merritt's project The 6ths. I immediately notice that Merritt holds his ears during the applause, which seems strange to me until I later learn that an ear injury has rendered the sound of clapping painful to him. Now, of course, I wish I could apologize for my show of appreciation, promising to hold up a sign of some sort next time, but this is not really plausible.
Sam Davol, the cellist, sounded great, perfectly complementing the piano, acoustic guitar, and mazuki (Merritt will explain later) setup. The uplifting "No One Will Ever Love You" brings in on vocals Shirley Simms, who continues her tongue-in-cheek tirade with "I Hate California Girls" from Distortion, drawing laughter from the crowd because we can tell she means it. Otherwise, this is the most incredibly respectful audience I've ever seen, maintaining a reverent silence as the set progresses. After Claudia takes the lead with "I Looked All Over Town," Merritt matter-of-factly introduces his instrument, which looks and sounds like an exotic ukulele: "I am playing a mazuki. It is Greek. It says hello."
Though I'm beginning to wonder where the new cuts are and whether I'll ever see a drummer, my worries are quelled each time a new song begins, as this is my first live experience with a band I've loved for years... therefore, "Epitaph for My Heart" shuts me up pretty quickly. Claudia Gonson continues to obsess over the house lights, which she has already proclaimed to look like spaceships purported to hold pod people. Merritt points out that it is merely her perspective from the stage that brings her to this conclusion, as well as the fact that she has been watching an overabundance of sci-fi movies. This goes on for a while, as Gonson and Merritt's stage banter is akin to that of an extremely well-spoken pair of sparring six-year-old siblings.
The first half of the show closes out with the horror flick-inspired "Zombie Boy" from Distortion, and we get a real-deal intermission, lights up and all. When the band returns for Act Two, Gonson announces, "While you were all discussing the finer points of the Magnetic Fields show, we were discussing the finer points of 2001: A Space Odyssey, but the weird thing is that for once we are not discussing Blade Runner." They get right back after it with "Take Ecstasy with Me" and slip into another new song, the postmodern "Courtesan," with Shirley back on vox. But the highlight of the show hits soon after with "Too Drunk to Dream," a barrel-thumping standout from Distortion, though I sorely wish for a percussion section to round out the beer-hall aura. Drums are indeed something that could have improved this experience, if only because of the distinctly rough-around-the-edges production of this album. Sweet and gentle the Fields are not, but the lack of skins does make the newer songs seem slightly toned down. The setup, however, is absolutely perfect for "The Book of Love," which a friend of mine swears up and down he will have played at his wedding, regardless of the fact that it is about a man and my friend is, in fact, heterosexual to the hilt. Stephin sings and plays his mazuki alone for this one, accompanied only by a nominal bit of slide guitar. Hilarity ensues when a flubbed count-off of "Drive On, Driver," another new song ending with a heart-stopping cello solo, sparks spat #57 between the Merritt-Gonson camps.
Claudia sits on the edge of the stage, and we wonder what she's up to, as her previous antics have included suggesting that people standing in the back claim empty seats in front, much to Merritt's chagrin. But no, she's just assuming her pose for "Yeah! Oh, Yeah!" a call-and-response track from 69 Love Songs (Part 3) that demonstrates no loss of love between whoever should choose to sing such a heartfelt tune. Claudia, pleadingly: "Are you out of love with me?" Stephin, deadpan: "Yes." And so on. The "last" song of the evening is "It's Only Time" from i, punctuated with cello pizzicato.
After the obligatory walk off the stage, the band returns, and Claudia attempts to tell another story that is quickly quelled by Stephin: "Backstage we were making jokes about the towels and Stephin was saying-- " "No, no, no, no, this is a censorship moment." "I'll tell you later!" hisses Claudia, and Stephin rolls his eyes, interjecting, "ANYWAY ..." I'm so busy laughing that I'm caught totally off-guard by "Three-Way," the steely, hollow kicker opening track of Distortion. The giggles continue as some newcomers slowly realize that the only lyrics to this song consist of the title, which the Fields are only too happy to gleefully shout in unison. Silliness abounds as Claudia struggles to tell her towel story yet again before the final song of the evening, an argument which somehow descends into farm animal noises, and eventually we're left with the somber "Grand Canyon," carried by a haunting cello melody.
The real testament to the musicianship of a band like The Magnetic Fields is its ability to break our hearts and coax a grin in the same instant. I leave the concert hall, a half-smile on my face.
