I saw The Magnetic Fields on Sunday night and I can’t possibly begin to be even remotely objective about the concert (suffice to say I’m a fan). So um, in summary, it was brilliant, perfect, magical etc etc and a lot of people cried.
It’s Sunday night (not exactly the most rock n’ roll of nights) and I’m watching of Montreal. I haven’t even been drinking, but the balloons, the mischievous piglets, the confetti, the large inflated synthetic boobies (you kinda had to be there), and a mesmerising (not to mention topless) Kevin Barnes sure have the same effect. Having seen them at Primavera Sound last year, I was glad to get a chance to see them in a more ‘intimate’ setting, where, in addition to seeing the setlist in advance, I was able to see the colour of Kevin’s socks, the stealth dancers creeping their way to the front of the stage and the smiles exchanged between band members. Obviously they were never going to play all the songs I would have liked (I’m still dreaming of a Kevin Barnes acoustic set in a tiny back room of a coffee shop), but a set including Heimdalsgate Like A Promethean Curse, The Party’s Crashing Us, A Sentence Of Sorts In Kongsvinder and a sped up version of She’s a Rejector still left us singing our hearts out all the way home.