Review Summary: the sun pours down like honey.
In the decade long build up to Stephen Merritt’s monumental 69 Love Songs
the name Holiday
sticks out from the Magnetic Field’s discography as the pinnacle of its rise. Merritt’s brand of catchy and lo-fi indie rock is impeccable as an enhancer of mood, and with Holiday
he perfectly encapsulates the sound of the summer holiday, with its glaring heat and glowing afternoons. What is beautiful about Merritt’s music is that beneath its quirky and cheery exterior, multitudes of subtle depressive undertones lurk – any voyage through the Magnetic Fields on a bright and promising summer’s day will descend into wistful thought and pining for those who aren’t lying together with you out on the deckchairs while the setting sun turns the sky red. Merritt’s Morrissey-esque voice makes its own gloomy contribution, and the mere fact that his performance voices a ‘I don’t give a fu
ck what you think here are my songs listen to them or don’t I don’t care’ proposition makes the album all the more worthwhile. Holiday
is really the quintessential indie rock album, taking pride in its eccentricity and affecting the individual on a plethora of levels.
on the ferris wheel
looking out on Coney island
under more stars than
there are prostitutes in Thailand
our hair in the air
our lips blue from cotton candy
when we kiss it feels
like a flying saucer landing