Just in time for Valentine’s Day, depressed romantic Stephin Merritt unveils his band The Magnetic Fields’ latest concept album, Realism, a folk-oriented orchestral collection of songs in the style of Judy Collins, which stands starkly in contrast to 2008’s heavier Distortion. Calling from New York while cradling his dog, Irving Berlin (“the chihuahua with chutzpah”), Merritt spoke to EYE WEEKLY about his prickly reputation, Lady Gaga and the purpose of a love song.

You are a notoriously tough interview. What do you think journalists are so afraid of?
Oh, yeah. Well I’ve had a few interviews with people who then called me an asshole, or whatever. But most of them have gone so well, actually. Anyway, you need have no fear. I’m quite perfectly normal in every way.

You’re mostly known in indie-rock circles. Is there another audience you would love to have latch on to your music?
I would love to be popular among the one-handed, so that they wouldn’t make as much applause. Because of my hearing condition [Merritt has diagnosed himself with hyperacusis, a condition that causes extreme sensitivity to certain sounds], it’s difficult to hear applause, so it would be great if the one-handed would come and edge out the two-handed in our concerts. Conversely, my nightmare audience would be the four-handed.

Is it easier to write a track when you’re feeling miserable, ecstatic or nothing at all?
Nothing at all. If you’re miserable or ecstatic, you’re not going to bother with songwriting. Next question.

People often attempt to read autobiography into Magnetic Fields’ lyrics. But you’ve said that you’re consistently writing in character.
Who are these people? Only journalists ever talk about autobiography with me — I wonder if it’s because journalists as a class want there to be some hook between the lyrics and biography because it makes it easier to write about. Music is like cooking; it’s not like autobiography. Everyone uses the same 500 ingredients. There are only about 500 edible things in the world and we only eat 100 of them in each culture, which we put together in various ways to make various foods. Each genre has a constriction of possibilities. With the exception of Ian Anderson in Jethro Tull, no one in heavy metal is going to play a flute.

You’ve made your reputation on love songs. What does the ideal love song achieve?
I don’t know. I’ve never written a love song for someone.

You haven’t?
No. Because if I did, I think that I wouldn’t put it on a record, which would be insulting. It would be like making money off my declaration of a feeling. I also don’t give people penguins, that doesn’t occur to me. I mean everybody likes penguins, but I don’t give them out.

But people use Magnetic Fields’ songs to declare their feelings about each other.
I fill my songs with romantic clichés that I find in other songs, and if people use romantic clichés in their own lives, that’s no mind, it’s just part of the process. It’s part of our Jungian lifestyle. All those Allman Brothers southern boogie songs might as well be part of our genetic makeup at this point. It’s not something we can do anything about, so we might as well live with it.

What qualities do you think make a pop song resonate with people? Do you think it’s the art of conveying something universal in a simple, seamless way?
Increasingly, I think what makes a great pop song is the video. I don’t think people listen to music at all, if you look at who’s on the charts. Actually, that statement is one year out of date. Vampire Weekend is at the top of the charts. I assume they have great videos.

If nobody knew what Lady Gaga looked like, would she still be Lady Gaga? I don’t think people listen to music at this point at all, except for you and me. We’re all alone. Because there’s too much music, it’s become hard to hear it, and there’s no reason to seek it out because you’re surrounded by it. Since I get paid for my music, I’m used to being ignored. But being both ignored and unpaid is tragic, tragic, tragic….