for the record

Author: Emily Temple

It's probably impossible to embark on a review of the Magnetic Fields' newest release, Distortion, without addressing its name. Like the incredible classic 69 Love Songs and the less-inspired i, Distortion follows through on the promise made by its title: the album sounds like lead singer Stephen Merritt at his very best, except dunked in a vat of feedback and reverb. The sound immediately calls to mind the sullen drone of Jesus and Mary Chain's Psychocandy - not surprising, as Merritt has explained, "We wanted to sound more like Jesus and Mary Chain than Jesus and Mary Chain. We put the amplifier directly up against the frame of the piano and turned it up enough to start feeding back. I went out and bought all these cigarette-case amplifiers and taped them to the guitar so that the amplifier became part of the instrument - we rubber-banded them together so they vibrated against each other as well as vibrating the guitar. We couldn't get the accordion to technically feed back but we did put a cigarette-case amplifier on the bellows." Whoa. It's a little hard to take at first, especially for devoted Magnetic Fields fans who have grown used to the deliberate clarity and formalism that has pervaded the orchestra-pop band's previous albums. But ultimately it feels like the same band, with the same irreverent lyrics, nearly silly and yet somehow heartbreaking, and the same deep, sorrowful Merritt. Just under a blanket, which, when you think about it, is pretty appropriate.

The album starts out in a distinctly Beach Boys-ian temper, with the sunny "Three-Way" and "California Girls." The lyrics, however, betray the truth: "Eating nonfood keeps them mean / but they're young forever / If they must grow up / they marry dukes and earls / I hate California girls." Another standout track, the one which incidentally seems most familiar to a long-time Magnetic Fields fan, is "Too Drunk to Dream," which starts a cappella with the new credo of the American frat boy: "Sober, life is a prison / Shitfaced, it is a blessing / Sober, nobody wants you / Shitfaced, they're all undressing." Some of the tunes get lost under the distortion trope. One has to think on every track - if this was on 69 Love Songs, without this noise all over it, would it be just as good? Would it be better? What if I had heard it there first and didn't have the choice? In the end I think it works for some songs better than others ("Zombie Boy" is totally perfect, but I want to hear "The Nun's Litany" clean), but it's at least interesting and keeps Merritt from falling into the familiarity gutter.

Shirley Simms returns on this album to great effect, lending her pop-perfect vocals to duets like "Please Stop Dancing," making Merritt sound even more melancholy by comparison. Even better than Shirley, though, is the discovery I made while looking at the liner notes - maybe I shouldn't admit to not having known this before, but Daniel Handler is the accordionist for the Magnetic Fields. Daniel Handler being the author of the best book I read last year, the infinitely inspiring and lyrically delicious Adverbs. It somehow makes a ton of sense that this weird but dazzling author would be a part of this band, these lyrics, and these feelings.

The Magnetic Fields are one of those indie-rock legend bands that you (some would argue) are required to like in order to register as a legitimate human being. They have always felt, and still feel with Distortion, like a group of sad boys in their basement singing love songs to and for and from other sad boys in sad basements. Their songs make you feel drunk, beat up, and made fun of, but all by love. There's a grim smile, a little shake and you're coming back for more.