The Magnetic Fields and Concert Crowds

[Beer for this post: Dark Horse Brewing Co.’s Crooked Tree IPA]

[Music for this post: The Magnetic Fields I]

Anne and I went to see the Magnetic Fields a couple months ago (March 8) at the Harris Theater. [n.1] The show was really great, as I expected it would be. The Magnetic Fields are, as I’ve mentioned before, one of my top-five favorite bands ever. Stephin Merritt—the ukulele player, a vocalist, and the lyricist and principal songwriter for the group—is pretty much a genius. [n.2]

While I expected to love it nearly beyond compare, I was very pleased that Anne did too.

The band, and Merritt, is perhaps best known for its magnum opus 69 Love Songs, a three CD album that is one of the most remarkable achievements in music. But all of their other stuff is good too (I don’t love every single song they’ve ever done, of course, but generally it is awesome). I should create a Trent’s Favorite Magnetic Fields compilation, but until I do here’s a small list (in no particular order) of their really great stuff that you should listen to and love unless you’re soulless:

I Thought You Were My Boyfriend; I Wish I Had an Evil Twin; I Don’t Believe You; It’s Only Time; The Nun’s Litany; Seduced and Abandoned; I Think I Need a New Heart; The Book of Love; When My Boy Walks Down the Street; If You Don’t Cry; You’re My Only Home; My Only Friend; Papa Was a Rodeo [n.3]; The Way You Say Good-Night; I Shatter; Busby Berkeley Dreams; Yeah! Oh, Yeah!; The Night You Can’t Remember; I Have the Moon; and many more. [n.4]

In 2006, I saw Merritt perform with Daniel Handler (of Lemony Snicket fame) at a benefit show for 826 Seattle. They played “The Night You Can’t Remember” and “The Book of Love” along with a couple Gothic Archies songs. I loved that performance too, but it was made much less enjoyable by my fellow audience members who seemed intent at laughing at everything, even things that weren’t funny. Now, I recognize that the event was mostly funny stuff, it was meant to be a good time. OK. But I mean, watch this:

Here’s the play-by-play of the video:

[Laughing…laughing…laughing…laughing…]

Before you left your garrison

you'd had a drink, maybe two.

You don't remember Paris, Hon,

but it remembers you.

[HAHAHAHHAHA]

It's true, we flew to Paris, dear,

aboard an Army jet

the night you can't remember,

the night I can't forget.

[HahahHHAHAHAHAHAHaahahahaHAHHAH]

You said I was terrific,

it meant zilch to you, ah, but I

have our marriage certificate

and I'll keep it till I die.

[HAHAHAHhaahhAHHAH—oh yeah, unrequited love that a person holds dear until death—hilarious!]

You were an Army officer

and I just a Rockette

[HAHAHhahummmm—All that leg kicking, and the sense of worthlessness, damn that’s some funny shit]

the night you can't remember,

the night I can't forget.

No rose conveyed your sentiments,

not even a petunia,

but you've got vague presentiments

and I've got little Junior.

[HhhahAhahhahmmm—Ah! Yes, a fatherless child. Ha! Man, you’re killing me.]

You said, nobody loves me,

and I said, wanna bet?

The night you can't remember,

the night I can't forget.

But the guy sitting directly in front of me laughed way more often than what you hear in the video. He found just about every line side-splittingly funny. I so desperately wanted to kick him in the back of the head. The crowd was also laughing loudly and obnoxiously, and often, during “The Book of Love.” What’s funny about that song? It’s lovely and beautiful, but it isn’t funny. Maybe it, like “The Night You Can’t Remember,” has a few moments where a sort of knowing, wry smile is appropriate, but not guffaws. I mean, come on. I recognize that I am not the sayer of what level of humor should or may be found in something, but come on. I also recognize that Stephin Merritt may have meant some of this stuff to be funny, but I think I’m reading it right. I think he means there to be a tinge of humor, however you quantify that, where knowing smiles are anticipated, but that’s it (at least with those two songs). At the show we just saw in March, we got to see a little insight on this point.

(I wish I wrote this right after the show so I’d have it exactly right, but this is the gist of what happened and was said) Toward the end of the first set Merritt was talking during a break between songs and he mentions how the next song is sadly appropriate, or coincidental, or something like that, referring to the recent earthquake and tsunami in Chili and I think also to the tsunami in Indonesia, and then he introduces the song as “Suddenly There’s a Tidal Wave.” Guess what happens. About a quarter of the crowed erupts in laughter. And Merritt says something like, “Why is that funny?” More laughter. “Yeah, thousands of people died. Ha ha.” Shockingly, still more laughter, albeit from far fewer people.

So, why the laughter? Is it that when people go out they just want to have a good time and laugh? Is it that they want to be in on the joke so they laugh when they think there is one (even if there isn’t)?

We saw Kaki King perform a couple nights ago and a slightly similar thing (in my mind) happened: Kaki and her band were playing “Doing the Wrong Thing” (I think, which, HA!), and toward the end the band slowly faded out and the lights were flashing about once a second with a very noticeable clicking sound. It was very clear, to me at least, that the song was not over, and given that no one really applauded, I think the bulk of the audience understood that this was part of the act, the song was still in progress. But it was quiet, the band had completely stopped playing, all that we heard was the click of the lights. At this point the guy in front of me said, not quietly, something like “What the fuck are they doing?” and shortly after that a number of other people took the opportunity to shout things to the band. Why couldn’t they let it be? Why couldn’t they endure more than eight seconds of relative, obliviously purposeful quiet before they had to start making their own noise? Why can’t people stand quiet? What are they so scared of?

I do think it is fear, of a kind. There’s fear behind those shouts, and there’s fear behind that laughter. My knee-jerk reaction when this stuff happens is to think the offenders are just jackasses. But I’m trying hard to be a more understanding person, so I’m trying hard to understand what’s behind that fear.

Note 1: The Harris Theater, by the way, is hideous. The interior of the actual theater, where the seats are, was fine, but the lobby areas and such are eye-gougingly ugly. Anne likened it to a subway station. It’s pretty clear that they were going for a modern look, but it just doesn’t work. The walls are covered with shiny white panels, the lighting is like pink and green florescent or neon stuff that is not only ugly in itself but also makes everyone in there look less attractive. It’s a nightmare.

Note 2: See him at work here. That’s a video from NPR that shows him create a song from start to finish (once you're redirected, click on the image of Merritt on the left that's marked "video").

Note 3: “Papa Was a Rodeo” always makes me think of Brokeback Mountain, something that would probably horrify everyone involved with either project.

Note 4: That’s not even counting stuff by The 6ths and the Gothic Archies, two other Stephin Merritt bands that have great stuff of their own.