Tom Lynch

Stephin Merritt is everywhere.

The prolific New York musician, the brain behind bands such as The 6ths, Future Bible Heroes, and, most famously, The Magnetic Fields, is worshipped across the land for his unique pop intellect, his ability to make listeners believe in an Oz of love. A most important gay songwriter, an instinctual wordsmith and manipulator of hearts, his songs are constantly covered by rock bands old and new, from Death Cab For Cutie's front man Ben Gibbard in his All-Time Quarterback project to Peter Gabriel, who does a bizarre, Brian-Eno-with-strings duet of "The Book of Love." Within the stunning Magnetic Fields catalogue, Merritt combines folk, electro-pop, jazz and everything else found on this side of Beethoven to create an audible journey through flowers, fire, desire and agony. Last month saw the release of the new Fields record, "i," its first in nearly five years. Every track on the fourteen-song record begins with the letter "i."

"I was writing the record," he explains, "with an assortment of letters. It was early in the process when we just went with it [the "i" concept]. I ditched the songs without `i' in the title, but I didn't change any titles. That would've been against my morals."

In 1999, Merritt released "69 Love Songs," the three-disc Magnetic Fields record that made a gargantuan number of critics' "best of the decade" lists. It put Merritt on the mainstream map, as it sold wildly around the globe. "I think `i' is a continuation of the '69 Love Songs' variety show," he says. "There are different trivial and substantial themes that vaguely tie the songs together."

"i" does seem a sequel to 1999's epic box. Merritt's not shy to use various strings, harpsichord and xylophone, just as he wasn't while writing his sixty-nine odes to adoration. "I write without reference to any instruments," Merritt insists. "I almost never write a song with any instrument in hand, it doesn't really matter what instrument it is."

And like the previous records, it's not all stomach butterflies and gentle whispers. Take the first three song titles of the new record: "I Die," "I Don't Believe You," "I Don't Really Love You Anymore." But, unlike the aforementioned record, the new album keeps to a trim fourteen songs. "Two three-hour records would seem... anticlimactic," says Merritt. "Plus, '69 More Love Songs' is not the best title in the world." The record is softer than the Fields' previous efforts, with loads of acoustic guitar and piano, and with hardly any drums. "Soft rock was the original idea, and it made the cut," he says. "No loud distorted guitar."

Also unlike "69," Merritt sings all his songs. Previously, he enlisted a small group of friends, male and female, to lend their voices to his clever and sad words. "I usually know before I write the songs [whether or not he'll sing them]," he says. "If I sound good, I'll keep it. If it doesn't sound good, I give it to someone else. For '69 Love Songs,' it would've been really boring to listen to me sing for three hours."

Merritt says he's only really been to Chicago while touring, but he does recall his very first visit. "When I was 18, Shirley [Simms, who lent her voice on previous Fields records] and I decided one evening to visit some friends," he says. "The next morning, early morning, which is not the time for either one of us, we drove eighteen hours to Chicago and stayed for a week. Our friends didn't have running water at the time, it was clear that they weren't doing very well, so we didn't go to eat or anything." So what did they do? "We listened to `Purple Rain' and had endless arguments about pornography. My friends were feminist and very against pornography, and I was pro-porno." The winner? "I think it was a standstill at the end."

The writer has scribbled down countless songs over the last ten years, all exploring an unpredictable and sometimes aimless journey through devotion. Though he's done this well, better than some in the past, best amongst his peers, it's possible that a songwriter with his credible reputation may take a detour, musically or lyrically, to a new dimension of creative production. Not Stephin.

"It's love and dancing, love and dancing," he says. "When you can't think of anything else to write about, you write about what you intend people to do while listening to your music. Music is an example of the invisible, magical force that's like love, and they go together pretty well. So is gravity, though. I guess people write songs about gravity, too."

The Magnetic Fields play June 25-27 at the Old Town School of Folk Music, 4544 North Lincoln, (773)728-6000. Friday 8pm, Saturday 3:30pm & 8pm, and Sunday 3:30pm & 8pm.

(2004-06-22)

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