As time rolls on and the whole "love is grand but divorce is a hundred grand" thing becomes more and more of an axiom, it seems fitting to give into Cynicism's constant bitching and listen to its word, a.k.a. The Magnetic Fields's
69 Love Songs. At nearly three hours long, the record is based off the concept of love - its beauties, its beginnings, its ends (there's a lot of ends, if you couldn't guess) - but the way frontman Stephin Merrit writes about it all breathes a heavy amount of charisma and wit into The Fields's sixth album. To sever Merrit and Company from all the irony, symbolism, and misanthropy would be to deprive them of one of their best features.
That's not to say that this is an insipid album, musically - it's full of all that Fields charm. Merrit's untrained, lugubrious baritone anchors the chirping synth and guitars with ease, while some minimal percussion lilts along happily. The jaunty "Absolutely Cuckoo" is the jangly culmination of all these components, as well as one of the more comical tracks on the album. Regardless of how caustic and misanthropic Merrit's poetry is, the synthesis of cheesy rhymes and Merrit's attempts to guilt-trip someone else into loving him is worthy of a half-smile "Epitaph for My Heart" takes an alternate route, balancing an austere brand of folk music with Merrit's criticisms of the pop scene. Lines like, "Who'll take its ashes and/singing, fling them from the top of the Brill Building?" show that Merrit knows he's not going anywhere in the biz, either because he's just too far down in the dumps, or because he's actually got a heart.
But, the impressive amount of emotional and intelligent facets to Merrit's lyrics is what makes
69 Love Songs's concept so vital. He doesn't prioritize one aspect of love (or lack thereof) over another (... or lack thereof); he's well aware as to how to sneak in hundreds of allegories into one song, adding depth to his many, many reasons for loving and hating it. Even the short blurb that is "Asleep and Dreaming" is like a poetic panorama or an elaboration on the adage, "absence makes the heart grow fonder." He expresses the emotions regarding separation and isolation with lines like, "I've seen you when your ship came in and when your train was leaving./The sweetest thing I ever saw was you asleep and dreaming." All he wants is some company - is that
really too much to ask?
Luckily, in regards to
69 Love Songs, there's not much that you can ask for. Over the outrageous length, there are far too many hooks too count, as many eclectic takes on pop as possible, and a rich array of sonic textures. Arrangements are elegant and simple, but The Magnetic Fields's scope is large, featuring kitschy country spin-offs like "Kiss Me Like You Mean It" as well as rich alternative tracks like "Let's Pretend We're Bunny Rabbits." "I Don't Believe in the Sun" is full of whimsical piano melodies and symbolizes the instrumental diversity of the album, as well as the band's knack for crafting perceptible grooves, a necessary component for an album of such length and wit; without these entertaining additives, the album could have very easily been an arduous and pretentious affair without the musical talent to back up its ambitious design.
