"Non-rhymed lyrics have been around since Milton. Most of the blues, much of folk music, especially outside Britain, half of Madonna. But what makes you think that non-rhyming is interesting or revolutionary? And as for her unusual phrase structures, it's actually just rambling, and because of her rambling, I don't tend to remember her songs. There's a reason for repetition, which is that it's an aid to memory." Then adding what could be the opening of a Stephin Merritt manifesto on music, "I think formlessness is not the way to go in popular music. More form, I think, is the answer."

Suitably chastened, I moved onto the safe and completely non-Björk-related topic of drummers, I received this spectacular run-on: "One of my favorite drummers is Mick Fleetwood, who keeps incredible time, but is always doing interesting variations on the beat, and in the most repetitive songs, he never seems to play exactly the same thing twice, and yet he sounds very simple, so I think he's a genius, which brings me to demolishing your Björk thesis with Stevie Nicks, and the song 'Dreams' off of Fleetwood Mac's 'Rumors,' which rhymes, if at all, only every 30 seconds."

Merritt starts humming to himself to double-check how often it rhymes, then adds, "Maybe when she feels like it, there's a rhyme tossed in. It's a very rambling melody, yet quite beautiful, over a simple two-chord progression." Then, with deep sarcasm and great pleasure, "I would say that Stevie Nicks is an important precursor to Björk, perhaps surpassing her in artistry."

Snippiness comes naturally to Merritt, and his default stance, toward both himself and others, is critical rather than appreciative. As a music writer for Time Out New York (a job he quit a few years ago because "I don't want to run into people I've just savaged, and I don't want to have to review only records that I like") he wrote articulate, minutely descriptive, devilishly funny reviews, which often delighted in trashing the music under consideration. His annual roundups of Christmas albums were particularly notable masterpieces of mockery. A number of times during our conversation, unable to resist a good line, he'd say critical (and very amusing) things about other musicians, only to regret it, and ask me not to print what he'd said. "I don't want to say bad things about people in print. I'm happy to talk about things I like, but I don't like being asked if I like other artists, because I say snippy, critical things." Merritt isn't mean, he's just very aware of the faults in everything around him. When I asked him if he enjoyed listening to his new record, he replied flatly, "I just hear all the mistakes."

For the benefit of the uninitiated, a brief description of Merritt's oeuvre is in order: He has a deep voice, comically deep, coming, as it does, out of his barely 5-foot frame. As he put it, "I can usually sing along with Gene Martin an octave down." For the Magnetic Fields, Merritt composes all of the music and plays most of it and, at this point, he does all of the singing as well, though the band does have three other members: Claudia Gonson, Merritt's longtime collaborator and manager, on piano, cellist Sam Davol, and guitarist John Woo. It's by far Merritt's most successful project, but it's just one of many. His other bands include the Future Bible Heroes (electro-pop), the 6ths (guest vocalists singing Merritt songs), the Gothic Archies ("rock-bubblegum pop"), and the Three Terrors, who assemble for one-time-only themed performances in New York, for instance, "The Three Terrors Sing the Saddest Songs They Know for Valentine's Day."

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