The Birchmere Bandstand, with its Disney-does-Austin atmosphere, perplexed many fans who crowded in to see the Magnetic Fields Thursday night. It was a new venue for the band, as well: singer-pianist Claudia Gonson wondered aloud about the facade for the nonexistent beer hall, but quickly got down to the business at hand -- a suit of short, smart songs that came across as both leisurely and overwhelming.
Overwhelming, because of Stephin Merritt, the superb, succinct and terrifyingly prolific songwriter. From the delicate chamber pop of "All the Umbrellas in London" to the quixotically sprightly, They Might Be Giants-like "A Chicken With Its Head Cut Off," Merritt delivered a performance with paradox: His emotion-filled, sonorous voice emanated from a still, restrained physical presence. Similarly, Gonson delivered the exquisite "If You Don't Cry" with matter-of-fact style -- in a conversational alto, standing with one knee braced on her piano bench, arms crossed over her warm-up jacket. Set against carefully arranged cello, piano, banjo, guitar and ukulele, the songs' pop structures vied intriguingly with the soundscapes the instrumentation conjured.
The Magnetic Fields delivered complex messages at Birchmere.
(Chris Buck)
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It was a setting made for complex messages, and near the end of the set, Merritt was still confused about the Birchmere. "Can I smoke onstage?" he pleaded. Given assent, he lit up and puffed between bars of "Papa Was a Rodeo," delivering its lines with studied insouciance. Still, "Rodeo," with its masterly blend of road cliches and unexpected mirth, sometimes swept him under its power. You could almost read the clever fellow's feelings. Almost.
-- Pamela Murray Winters
