This may be a given to all people that are in the know, but it's worth putting on record: Stephin Merritt, in addition to being a songwriter with wit and rhyming skills akin to no less than Cole Porter, is also an amazing crooner. When his deep voice croaks out tunes like "I Shatter," accentuated by some distortion, his pipes might seem novel at first. But when he unfurls one of his beautiful ballads like "The Book of Love," he knows exactly where your heartstring lie and he gives them a gentle tug. Even if he's wearing a faded t-shirt with the band Yes' logo on it, you still might be tempted to slip him your phone number.
The feeling became clear just a few songs into the first of Magnetic Fields' two-night stay at the Carnegie Lecture Hall, the space connected to the Carnegie Library in Pittsburgh's Oakland neighborhood. Last Saturday and Sunday, Merritt and his crew played all 69 of the tunes on their revered 69 Love Songs album, which turned 25 years old last fall. The magnum opus, which spreads across three CDs (and has appeared on six 10" vinyl records) changes sonically from track to track so playing the whole thing is a bit of a herculean task. But the five-piece lineup of the band arranged the songs in a manner that retained the initial feel of each tune, adding different elements where they were needed. And the played the whole thing in order.
The second picture here shows the stage set-up, taken before Saturday's set. Merritt can be a little particular about things onstage. (Years ago, a friend saw him throw a bottle of water at a chatty couple during a New York show, leaving the room silent for the rest of the set.) So I wasn't sure if snapping a photo mid-set would be tolerated, and if nothing else, a layout of their instrumentation seemed warranted. When the band came out, they consisted of Shirley Simms (ukelele, vocals), Chris Ewen (keyboards), Sam Davol (cello), Anthony Kaczynski (guitar, vocals) and Merritt (who played some sort of sampler/keyboard, in addition to singing).
Surprise re-arrangements came immediately. Opener "Absolutely Cuckoo," normally fast and in a slightly jumpier time signature, felt relaxed in a steady 4/4. When Ewen delivered a banjo sample during the melancholic "All My Little Words," the fear started that the night be more like Magnetic Fields karaoke, but my skepticism was wiped away within a few songs. Merritt added some counterpoint vocals to Simms' lead in "Come Back From San Francisco." "Punk Love," one of the more jokey interludes on the album where the title is repeated as the tempo accelerates, sounded more anthemic in real life. To summarize the less-than-happy feeling about our nation's capital, the usually bouncy "Washington, D.C." was delivered at a slower tempo, with finger snaps that captured the mood.
Merritt, as a front man, has the amazing skill of being deadpan and hilarious at the same time. He dryly noted that the album has several types of songs ("Love is Like..." songs, animal songs, and even dead animal songs). Like Thelonious Monk, he can slay with just a few words. He cut loose during the goofy "Love Is Like Jazz," copping a French beatnik feel and playing with one of those toys that moos like a cow and a spring echo tube. Davol took things further, walking offstage and coming back with toy dinosaurs for each band member to use. (The Natural History Museum is connected to the Lecture Hall, for those out-of-town readers.) Speaking of Monk, I could be wrong but it seemed like Kaczynski quoted the pianist's great "Crepiscule With Nellie" before things were through. Bonus points in my book.
The guitarist also wrapped up Night #1 with a dramatic performance of "Promises of Eternity." Merritt sings it on the album but he deserved a rest after the evening's big workout. It didn't seem like a coincidence that the song playing over the p.a. as we walked out was the Monkees' "Tommorow's Gonna Be Another Day." We still had 34 more songs to hear.
Night #2 put another idea in my head. While there are numerous tracks on 69 Love Songs that play in my head, randomly triggered by things having nothing to do with the band, there are still a wealth of them that I just know in passing. And there are plenty of gems among them. "The Death of Ferdinand de Saissure," with Merritt, Simms and Kaczynski harmonizing together, was one.
69 Love Songs doesn't exactly go out with a band on "Zebra," though it does have a laugh. Merritt prefaced the song with the warning, "After this song, there will be a 25-year intermission," riffing on his announcement of the show's real intermission earlier. But when the final song was done, there was a wave from the band, once again Ewen took a photo from the stage, and they were off.
Yes, it was all we could ask for. They had played 69 songs, with nary a flub throughout both nights. But after my big musical weekend (see the previous post), it was also a bit of a letdown, knowing that reality would be back the following morning.
But that's just me.
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