Last year the Magnetic Fields managed to alienate the music community in true Neil Youngian fashion. They went and released an album that didn’t sound like themselves, and not many people seemed to be buying it. It reminds me of when Neil discovered the vocoder and decided he was going to become Kraftwerk. Trans was the result, an album of sampled beats and blips, and a few years after that, Geffen actually sued him for “not sounding like himself.”

I doubt the indie community is going to get all litigous on Stephin Merritt’s ass, but they did give the cold shoulder to the 2008 album Distortion. During interviews of the time, Merritt more or less admitted he wanted to be the Jesus and Mary Chain. Not that I would ever discourage such an undertaking, but seriously, was it realistic to pit the Brill Building-like brilliance of Merritt’s song structures and lyrics against a tinny fuzz? Most people didn’t think so at the time, but after a year, I think it’s time someone stood up for this record.

I love it.

The opener is a surf-rock pastiche that brings the garage aesthetic into a familiar and amiable setting. Surf instrumentals, from Dick Dale and the Bel-Airs through to Man (Or Astroman?), always had room for subtlety in the composition alongside raw bitchin’-ness. This track, “Three Way,” has all of the above, including the prerequisite shout-outs.

The Magnetic Fields: Three-Way

Now that the door is opened, the West Coast sound is exploited full-on with “California Girls.” Whereas Brian Wilson took an earnest-eyed approach in his transparent (and heavenly) ode to exultation and sunshine, Merritt says the opposite: “I hate California Girls.” Shirley Simms sings with a syrupy sneer, deriding the perfect white smiles and celebrity hedonism of the Golden State’s finest. Once again, the noisy background is used to full effect, snarling its way through the teenage symphony to the godless.

The Magnetic Fields: California Girls

One of the record’s finest moments is “Please Stop Dancing,” a track that finally goes where the distortion-laded textures had always wanted to go: a simple, infectious riff that gets stuck in your head as you beat it against the wall. It’s the simplest of tales, about an obsessed lover, pleading for a moment’s peace. The bass line pumps through the morass, a swirl of aches and screams. This track gets played often and LOUD. You can’t shake it off.

The Magnetic Fields: Please Stop Dancing

And then there’s the brilliant “Too Drunk To Dream.” More than any other track on the album, this one marries the distortion concept with the composition perfectly. Disorientation, frustration, and haziness are front and center, with Merritt’s genius for rhyming dictionary madness (you know he punched the air when he came up with the “plastered” / “bastard” rhyme) and songbook lyricism in full force.

The Magnetic Fields: Too Drunk To Dream