David Green

David Green (Books) is the imprint under which I publish booklets of my own poems, or did. The 'Collected Poems' are now available as a pdf. The website is now what it has become. It keeps me out of more trouble than it gets me into. I hope you find at least some of it worthwhile.

Wednesday 27 January 2010

The Magnetic Fields - Realism


The Magnetic Fields, Realism (Nonesuch)
Whereas the last Magnetic Fields album, Distortion, was homage to the Jesus & Mary Chain, like the time R.E.M. put down their mandolin and made Monster, this is advertised as the return to basics. The two albums were apparently conceived as a pair. This has the female figure on the cover where the other had the male.
However, if it was intended as a 'folk' album it might not convince the hard-core traditionalists. With You Must be Out of Your Mind we are immediately back onto the familiar ground of dark lyricism and engaging instrumental arrangements. The cello and banjo ensemble is a rare and lovely combination used to great effect on previous classics on 69 Love Songs and I. John Woo and Sam Davol are a wonderful pairing at the centre of these restrained songs- their gigs in London in 2008 being suggested as the quietest pop concerts in the history of the genre.
For the most part, this is a pretty album, lilting and drifting sometimes sleepily through the subconscious.
It is unlikely that the monumental high points of The Book of Love or Papa Was a Rodeo from 69 Love Songs are going to be reached on a regular basis again and they aren't here but Stephin Merritt retains his camp, quaint, mordant songwriting genius. The yearning, dreamy I Don't Know What to Say seems to be translating into A Groovy Kind of Love but delivers more of the lost romantic charm of his most beguiling moments.
Everything is One Big Christmas Tree is jovial camp, enhanced by a verse in German for added fun. But it is the elegance of the strumming, exotic soft percussion - the cuatro and sitar, no less- that make this an admirable record, hypnotic and contemplative much more than usual. One needs to be careful to listen because it might successfully steal past one unnoticed. It asks unassumingly to be heard rather than demands your attention in an almost self-effacing way. And there's a lot to be said for something like that. It wouldn't come as a big surprise if Stephin Merritt became a Buddhist, refining his unique sensibility out of existence.

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