Track of the Week: Belle and Sebastian: The State I Am In (1996)
Some bands are special. From the first time I heard 'With A Little Help From My Friends', 'Cruiser's Creek', 'All The People I Like Are Those That Are Dead' and 'Rip It Up', before the end of the song, my life had somehow imperceptibly changed. This is what I listen to music for - the magic moment when your breath stops and the room seems to spin around you because something has passed straight from the recording into your soul like a bolt of lightening. So you idly dream through the day, the haunted echoes of the music floating around in your head, then you listen to the album by yourself in your dimly lit room, because it provides you with a touch of the heavens: and escape from mundane reality. There are other bands you like a lot, but it's not quite the same - they are, through no fault of their own, incapable of taking you to that same magical place.
Belle and Sebastian are special. This was apparent from the start, with their very limited edition first album, non-album EP tracks, reluctance to talk to the press or provide them with photos, even down to the name, referring to a boy and his dog from a cult French children's novel rather then any of the actual band members. And that's without going into the music. Let's talk about 'The State I Am In' purely as an example. Delicate, folky chords and the beautiful, elegant melody, played and sung with endearing frailty - singer Stuart Murdoch has a lisp. But countering the accusations of 'tweeness' (God how I hate that word!) are the lyrics, which play off images of purity and carnality against each other, with a cast of eccentrics ranging from gay brothers and sailor friends to child brides and crippled friends, right down to the confessional priest who turns the protagonist's bizarre story into a pulp novel. All of which is delivered with both wit and tenderness - Murdoch has a cutting sense of humour and is obviously well read, but feels a deep empathy with the outcast characters that populate his songs. The song starts of barely audible, with just Stuart singing softly over strummed chords, but builds up to a dramatic chorus. The, er, climax of the song? 'So I gave myself to God / There was a pregnant pause before he said "OK"'. B&S's discography is full of weird and wonderful outsiders, from Lazy Line Painter Jane, a rebel who sleeps with random boys and girls simply for 'the joy of giving', to the senile retired army officer in 'Me And The Major', all who are more then crudely painted stereotypes, and recounted in songs with deathless melodies.
In a time where loutish, unimaginative and loud music dominates the charts, Belle and Sebastian show the virtue of quietness, sensitivity and wit without ever descending into unimaginative blandness. When they first hit the scene, they were touted as the 'new Smiths' - a somewhat double-edged compliment that gets thrown up at most halfway decent indie bands with a trace of wit and sexual ambiguity, and with B&S it seemed to make more sense, but in reality they were - and are - much more then that. They are the natural descendants of Orange Juice, Felt and The Pastels, a reminder of a time when 'indie' meant an alternative approach to making music and a true link to the DIY ethics of punk rather then a meaningless marketing term. And in many ways, the commercial success of Belle and Sebastian has proved their musical ancestors right; even if they themselves were unable to shift units at the time, finally the aesthetic is being appreciated. Despite dips in their fortune along the way, and despite the fact that their new album has been mastered too loud (common with modern CDs - read this http://www.stylusmagazine.com/articles/weekly_article/imperfect-sound-forever.htm) - the tunes are still fantastic - Belle and Sebastian are still as important as they ever were. In a time when more and more music fails to inspire or excite, Belle and Sebastian stand for all that is good and magical about music. They are truly special.
Belle and Sebastian are special. This was apparent from the start, with their very limited edition first album, non-album EP tracks, reluctance to talk to the press or provide them with photos, even down to the name, referring to a boy and his dog from a cult French children's novel rather then any of the actual band members. And that's without going into the music. Let's talk about 'The State I Am In' purely as an example. Delicate, folky chords and the beautiful, elegant melody, played and sung with endearing frailty - singer Stuart Murdoch has a lisp. But countering the accusations of 'tweeness' (God how I hate that word!) are the lyrics, which play off images of purity and carnality against each other, with a cast of eccentrics ranging from gay brothers and sailor friends to child brides and crippled friends, right down to the confessional priest who turns the protagonist's bizarre story into a pulp novel. All of which is delivered with both wit and tenderness - Murdoch has a cutting sense of humour and is obviously well read, but feels a deep empathy with the outcast characters that populate his songs. The song starts of barely audible, with just Stuart singing softly over strummed chords, but builds up to a dramatic chorus. The, er, climax of the song? 'So I gave myself to God / There was a pregnant pause before he said "OK"'. B&S's discography is full of weird and wonderful outsiders, from Lazy Line Painter Jane, a rebel who sleeps with random boys and girls simply for 'the joy of giving', to the senile retired army officer in 'Me And The Major', all who are more then crudely painted stereotypes, and recounted in songs with deathless melodies.
In a time where loutish, unimaginative and loud music dominates the charts, Belle and Sebastian show the virtue of quietness, sensitivity and wit without ever descending into unimaginative blandness. When they first hit the scene, they were touted as the 'new Smiths' - a somewhat double-edged compliment that gets thrown up at most halfway decent indie bands with a trace of wit and sexual ambiguity, and with B&S it seemed to make more sense, but in reality they were - and are - much more then that. They are the natural descendants of Orange Juice, Felt and The Pastels, a reminder of a time when 'indie' meant an alternative approach to making music and a true link to the DIY ethics of punk rather then a meaningless marketing term. And in many ways, the commercial success of Belle and Sebastian has proved their musical ancestors right; even if they themselves were unable to shift units at the time, finally the aesthetic is being appreciated. Despite dips in their fortune along the way, and despite the fact that their new album has been mastered too loud (common with modern CDs - read this http://www.stylusmagazine.com/articles/weekly_article/imperfect-sound-forever.htm) - the tunes are still fantastic - Belle and Sebastian are still as important as they ever were. In a time when more and more music fails to inspire or excite, Belle and Sebastian stand for all that is good and magical about music. They are truly special.
posted by Jonathan Thornton at 1:29 pm
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