The Magnetic Fields at Pabst Theater
Chalk it up to a case of the right band for the right venue: Thursday’s Magnetic Fields show at The Pabst Theater was a perfect synthesis of style, aesthetics, and off-kilter sensibilities. Singer-songwriter Stephin Merritt’s ornate, theatrical chamber-pop seemed at times custom built for the Pabst’s elegant charm—late into his group’s set, he even acknowledged the busts of Beethoven and Wagner looming from the theater’s balcony. “This next one’s for them,” he deadpanned.
Indeed, “deadpan” would be the operative word throughout the evening. With his unmistakable bass voice and droll, dry-as-dirt demeanor, Merritt led the Magnetic Fields through a sparse, acoustic set that touched on his typical lyrical concerns: love, death, shipwrecks, vampires. The group—Merritt, pianist Claudia Gonson, cellist Sam Davol, guitarist John Woo, and guest vocalist Shirley Simms—drew from nearly 20 years worth of material, covering everything from 1991’s Distant Plastic Trees to their latest, Realism. (“Our khaki album,” joked Merritt, referring to the disc’s cover art).
Classic material like “Long Vermont Roads” and the devastating “100,000 Fireflies” drew rapturous applause, while newer tracks—especially Realism’s “You Must Be Out Of Your Mind” and “Always Already Gone”—seemed destined for instant canonization. “The Nun’s Litany” from 2008’s Distortion was just one of the many character-based songs that perfectly combined Merritt’s taste for the morbid with unnerving pathos. This is a man, after all, that can get away with rhyming “on your knees, yeah” with “anesthesia.”
Perhaps most surprising was just how funny the group can be. Songs like “Ukulele Hunt” and “Little Hebrew Girl” drew big laughs, and Merritt’s low, monotone voice made even the most benign statements seem hilarious, like when he droned before the show, “It’s time to take our seats and turn off our cell phones.”
Not that there weren’t a few bum notes—Davol seemed visibly bored and aloof, while Gonson was responsible for a number of musical flubs. Some between-song banter also fell flat. A strange comment from Gonson commending Milwaukee on its penchant for gothic humor “and crime” nearly killed the mood, and Merritt’s riffs on Gary Numan during a handful of technical problems were more confounding than inspired.
Not that it mattered: Judging from the capacity crowd’s response, the night was an unqualified success. Late into the evening, a brief encore found the group taking on “I Die” from 2004’s i, and “From a Sinking Boat,” the final track from Realism. As the last song faded out on a long, extended bass note, a woman’s cry of “Thank you!” rose up from the front of the room. The Pabst rose to its feet, and Merritt nodded in agreement.
