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BY KRISTY OJALA
Magnetic
Fields, American Analog Set, Joel R.L. Phelps
There seems to be no quicker way for a music writer to piss off (or at least alienate) a musician during an interview than to begin the conversation unprepared. A lack of familiarity with the band's discography, musical peers and even personality traits can naturally lead to a disastrous conversation that produces very little in the way of readable material. Before I spoke with Magnetic Fields ringleader Stephin Merritt, who is also the froggy voice behind the synth-pop of Future Bible Heroes and the Gothic Archies, I made several efforts to avoid falling into the dismal flypaper that is a bad interview. I called another writer who had spoken with Merritt in the past and asked him about the singer's conversational traits. "Oh, he's a monster," he told me without hesitation. "Whatever you do, don't interrupt him, even if there's a pause." Check. A representative of the Magnetic Fields' label, Merge Records, asked if I had ever spoken with Merritt before. When I said no, he quickly ticked off a list of helpful suggestions that rivaled a Miss Manners column in intense, nit-picky etiquette: "Whatever you do, don't tell him you like his music. Don't gush; it makes him disgusted." Check, check. "Ask him about French and Brazilian pop--he's a big fan. He likes movie soundtracks, too. Oh, and you know he's a writer, right?" Triple check. Despite the caveats, I didn't think talking to Merritt would be traumatic. His songs are filled with broken hearts and tearful admissions of suicidal desires; surely anyone who writes such teetering-on-the-brink keyboard pop can't possibly be a demon interviewee. Yet here I am, having a largely one-sided conversation with Merritt on my state-of-the-art office phone, which looks as if it came from Star Trek and cost in the vicinity of $500. Still, he protests throughout the interview that he can't hear anything, that I am "completely unintelligible." I can hear him fine; that is, when he responds beyond the words "What?" and "Not really." Remembering not to interrupt Merritt's disconcerting silent periods, I ask him about the current recording by his side project, the 6ths, which includes a rotating cast of vocalists such as Luna's Dean Wareham and Yo La Tengo's Georgia Hubley. He refuses to give any information until the artists sign their recording contracts. Next attempt: French pop bands and movie soundtracks (such as Mr. Jealousy, scored by Merritt's friend Wareham). Merritt is puzzled and says he is not a fan of French pop. Furthermore, he hasn't heard of the soundtrack. I ask why the Magnetic Fields are touring, since they haven't had a new record out in nearly three years. "The reasons people usually go on tour," snaps Merritt. "To play around the country in order to make ourselves fabulously famous and wealthy and sell records." While the thought of Merritt's cranky indie mug plastered all over MTV's Buzz Bin is entertaining, I'm not laughing. After an eternal string of one-sentence and fragmented answers, it's clear this is going nowhere, especially when I try to strike up camaraderie by asking about his music writing for the New York weekly Time Out. "Isn't that what you do?" he huffs. "What do you think it's like?" Defeated, I stammer something about the phone, and we hang up. Because there are so few, I'll list the only compound sentences culled from the interview tape: Merritt on whether pop songs have to have a certain amount of despair or incompleteness to them in order to be attractive: "'Sugar Sugar' does not have despair. I don't think I write more about sadness and love [than other songwriters]; maybe I exaggerate the maudlin qualities more than other people do. In the Top 40 right now there's an awful lot of songs about how you should get up and dance or about 'what a great love we share.' I think there's lots of happy songs currently." On mixed tapes as gifts: "I don't find them fun. A valentine that takes 45 minutes to read is kind of boring. I have thousands of records; I'm not in need of a mixed tape." On writing the melody and lyrics of a song simultaneously: "It's like bicycling with two feet rather than one at a time. I can't explain how to bicycle with two feet.... I don't see why you're asking me to explain it."
originally published August 12, 1998 |
