The Magnetic Fields
Realism
(Nonesuch, 2010­)

Autoharp. The word “hootenanny.” Finger-picked banjo. Sing-alongs. All these elements of Realism differ fundamentally, both in sound and theme, from the Magnetic Fields’ last effort, the much-lauded, crunchy power-pop album Distortion—although, frontman Stephen Merritt considers the two albums a pair. While Distortion spoke to the Boston native-band’s early ’90s roots, Realism speaks to their longevity with an experimental and sardonic tone, which is exactly the thing that keeps the Magnetic Fields continually significant after more than 20 years as a band.

Realism is a full-album jab at American folk music. At its best moments, it invokes the insanity of the romance between batty, one-hit folksters played by Eugene Levy and Catherine O’Hara in A Mighty Wind. In that film’s affectionate folk bashing, the two characters, a couple act called “Mitch and Mickey,” ape classic duettists like Ian and Sylvia and Jim and Jean, breaking up and falling back in love over goofy lyrics and stage acting that becomes their reality.

From the opening moments of the album, the pretty, glass-sharp twanging strings of “You Must Be Out of Your Mind”, Merritt uses that dichotomy of “fuck you” and twee that he has been perfecting for the last two decades. As he sings, “I want you crawling back to me down on your knees, yeah / Like an appendectomy sans anesthesia,” the sparkly strings continue their dance as if they can’t hear his monotone barbs. It reminds us, once again, that this dude could teach an entire doctoral program on pop music and how to use it.

As Realism goes on, the songs become folkier, and therefore more apropos to the album’s theme, which is stated as “examining what ‘real’ really means in recorded music, exploring the sincerity (or lack thereof) of folk lyrics and their delivery.” “Always Already Gone” is an accordion-squeezed and autoharp-strummed ballad with withering lyrics that include, “You leave me with only a story to tell / But at the beginning, our story is done / Because you were always / Always already gone.” It leads into “Seduced and Abandoned”, another Renaissance-tinted ballad with lyrics about being left at the altar with a baby to raise, and how it drives a lady to drink. Except that it is sung by a fella—one of many subtle, signature Merritt touches.

As is sometimes the case with the Magnetic Fields, Realism hits some strange notes that test the limits of any fans tolerance for cutesy pies to the face. (Though it is iconic, 69 Love Songs has some stomachache-inducing, saccharine moments.) Grownups singing about high tea with childhood playthings over toy pianos (“The Dolls’ Tea Party”)? Are the “March of the Toys”-esque, clip-clop drum track and Muppet/monster voices on “Everything Is One Big Christmas Tree” within the acceptable realm of adorable/eccentric?

The times where the Magnetic Fields can be heard as loudly as the folk they’re parodying are Realism’s best moments. “The Dada Polka” is a stuttering, melodic, and fully instrumented retro ditty. It could soundtrack a Wes Anderson film, and it stands alone without needing the rest of Realism to define its meaning. Similarly, “You Music Be Out of Your Mind” could nestle snugly into 69 Love Songs.

Realism is an important piece of the huge puzzle that is the Magnetic Fields’ catalog. Stephen Merritt is still completely engaged in his work, and shows an extreme commitment to the batty theme he cultivates here. Fans of the band will find Merritt (pun intended) in Realism, but new listeners should start elsewhere.

Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]

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