The Magnetic Fields at Vicar Street, Dublin, on 21 & 22 August 2024
First things first – a “security announcement” from Stephin Merritt to introduce The Magnetic Fields ‘69 Love Songs’ album in its almost three-hour entirety in the original running order over two nights in Vicar Street.
The singer and bandleader, sporting a Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem t-shirt, ruefully informs the assemblage that anyone requesting songs out of sequence or, indeed, in sequence “will be shot.”
Released as a three-volume concept album in 1999 and written entirely by Merritt, ‘69 Love Songs’ is according to its author an album not about love but about love songs; a masterfully crafted collection of acerbic, funny and poignant tales delivered through various genres in a kind of revue style. This year marks the album’s 25th anniversary, and, kicking off in Dublin, the first time it’s been played in its entirety in almost two decades.
Merritt is joined on this tour by original members Sam Davol and Shirley Simms and accompanied by Chris Ewen on synths and keys and Anthony Kaczynski on acoustic guitar. While the quintet’s sound is rich and imaginative in the retellings of these songs, Davol’s positioning centre stage between Merritt and Simms only highlights the importance and versatility of his cello to the live interpretations.
“Which would you rather have – a lot more reverb or you all shave your heads?” Merritt asks before All My Little Words, noting the difference between the more favourable, cavernous sound of an empty venue during soundcheck and the drier recording studio feel of a room filled with bodies.
“A lot of different genres appear on ‘69 Love Songs’ but more genres appear now that have been named retrospectively… we had no idea that was minimal cold wave,” Merritt informs us after Underwear, while It’s a Crime is “Swedish reggae, a genre that has completely disappeared. I miss it.” Merritt generally takes care of the between-song merriment, save for Simms filling some space with a gag on night one at his behest (“Tell a Catholic joke”).
Simms is every bit as front and centre as Merritt when it comes to the songs, though, often taking his place on the album tracks, and the audience finger snaps are almost in time with those onstage for her take on How Fucking Romantic. Kaczynski, too, takes his share of vocals, while Ewen only leaves his stool behind the keys to deliver the echoing, overlapping, effect-laden vocal interlude of Experimental Music Love.
Punk Love is ironically grungy, gradually accelerating electric mayhem, while acoustic mayhem reigns on Love Is Like Jazz; ominous drones, shakers and whispers, freeform experimentalism with the band’s own Dr. Teeth afterwards intoning, “Never apologise, never explain.”
As might be expected on the first outing of a tour, there are a few minor missteps, but they only contribute to the general good humour of the whole experience. At one of such false starts, Merritt jokes, “This is a bonus track – Two Notes on Love.” A voice from the crowd helpfully adds, “70 Love Songs.”
“This is the last …well, that is the last…this song is the last…” Merritt stumbles in jest as Zebra draws the album and, ultimately, two superb sets to a close. “It’s the end of record three,” Shirley interjects, after which a discussion ensues that it may or may not be the end of record three depending on what version of ‘69 Love Songs’ you might own.
Merritt said that one of the album’s pivotal tracks, the opening line of which goes “The book of love is long and boring,” is basically a manifesto for ‘69 Love Songs’. Long? Yes. Boring? Never, and ‘69 Love Songs’ may prove to be his defining masterwork. Having said that, let’s not prematurely second-guess what else Merritt may have up his sleeve. For now, though, 25 years on, the album’s wit and imagination remain undiminished, and its most recent interpretation is a joy to experience.
