The Magnetic Fields have a quiet attraction

Claudia Gonson of the Magnetic Fields opened the band’s two-hour show Sunday at the Music Box @ Fonda by welcoming the capacity crowd to “sleepy performances night.” Was this a sly dig at the seated audience’s relatively muted enthusiasm? Several fans evidently thought so and quickly sent up a cheer to demonstrate devotion. “No, it’s OK,” Gonson said. “We like the quiet.”

In fact, they need it. Led by singer-songwriter Stephin Merritt, a made-to-order New Yorker who recently moved part time to Los Angeles to realize his dream of creating 50 movie musicals, the Magnetic Fields make exceedingly clever indie-pop records on which you’re unlikely to hear an arrangement drowning out any of Merritt’s meticulous wordplay.

Unless you’re listening, that is, to the band’s latest, “Distortion,” an aptly titled collection of fuzz-soaked guitar jams that Merritt has said was inspired by the Jesus and Mary Chain’s 1985 debut, “Psychocandy.” On “Distortion” the bandleader’s lyrics are often submerged beneath waves of unruly noise -- no doubt Merritt’s point on a CD that’s partly about miscommunication and not being able to say what you mean.

The album is a delightful anomaly in the Magnetic Fields’ catalog, yet because Merritt suffers from hyperacusis -- severe sensitivity to the volume of normal environmental sounds -- the band wasn’t able to re-create its sound onstage at the Fonda. Instead, Merritt and his bandmates -- pianist-vocalist Gonson, cellist Sam Davol, guitarist John Woo, singer Shirley Simms and, for a few songs, children’s author Daniel Handler (a.k.a. Lemony Snicket) playing accordion -- retooled the “Distortion” material for a tidy chamber-folk ensemble.

The result afforded an opportunity to admire Merritt’s watertight song craft (not to mention the band’s deadpan stage banter, which Sunday included rambling anecdotes about the Village Voice and a pre-Scientology Katie Holmes).

In “California Girls” Simms inveighed sweetly against the women of the Beach Boys’ dreams, noting that “they come on like squares, then get off like squirrels.” In “The Nun’s Litany,” Merritt revealed a sister’s secret aspirations: “I want to be a dominatrix, which isn’t like me, but I can dream.” “Too Drunk to Dream” emphasized the benefits of beer goggles, in language more colorful than you’ll read here. During each the band made up for a lack of volume with an abundance of heart.