It’s been four years since Stephen Merritt and his sardonic wit have graced our shores, but this extended absence sure ain’t cheered him up much. I’ve never seen Merritt before, who I’d always envisaged to be a foppish haunted type (a gothier Neil Hannon, perhaps), so to discover he was a stumpy, unassuming Big Apple Taxi Driver lookalike was a bit of a shock to the system. What wasn’t a shock, however, was just how damn good he was.Due to a hearing affliction, Merritt’s unable to tolerate loud noises so faithful recreations from his fuzz drenched last album “Distortion” were out of the question (he can’t abide applause for the same reason, leading to the bizarre spectacle of a thousand people clicking their fingers in appreciation). Instead, he renders his material in a more low-key, acoustic fashion with the unusual combination of bouzouki, cello, acoustic guitar and piano which thanks to the talents of his touring band only enhance the idiosyncratic charm of his often romantic, dry-humoured songs. A disastrous journey to London could have soured the tempestuous Merritt’s mood but he was on good form, and acted as the perfect foil to his chattermouth pianist Claudia. The swanky Sloane Square venue was an inspired choice; pleasant, well-sized and blessed with high-vaulted, minimalist environs that do wonders for the acoustics. A good selection of material too; not only did they raid ever corner of the Magnetic Fields’ extensive back catalogue, but they found room for a couple of diversions into their Lemony Snicket-related side project the Gothic Archies (series author Daniel Handler is a sometimes accordionist for the band). It is perhaps a shame that Merritt’s condition precluded a greater array of instrumentation as the subtle arrangements occasionally became over-familiar but that apart, it was a pleasure to have to the rare opportunity to see one of America’s most acclaimed indie legends in the flesh.
(Photo: Erika Dias (Flickr))
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