Belle and Sebastian

Lazy Line Painter Jane
(Matador)

Indie rock is a funny thing, ain't it? Two albums ago, fey Scottish septet Belle & Sebastian were the toast of Hipsterville after their brilliant second album, If You're Feeling Sinister, introduced us to Stuart Murdoch's smart melodies and those endearingly stealthy sensibilities --only in indie rock is shying away from interviews and photo shoots an expert marketing scheme. But earlier this year, with the mainstream media whipped into a kinda-sorta frenzy (a Top-40 single in England! Stuart poses for Time magazine!) over B&S's fourth album, Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like a Peasant, it suddenly became cool for hipsters to roll their eyes and scoff, "You know, I didn't even like that Sinister album or whatever it was called." Thing is, Fold is an uneven album at best; maybe the hipsters can claim victory on this one.

But wait: just weeks before that album was released, a boxed set of reissued EPs called Lazy Line Painter Jane crawled in under the radar (which is probably just how Murdoch planned it). The three four-song discs, originally released the year after If You're Feeling Sinister came out, show off Murdoch's quirky gifts in full splendor. Combined, they make for a much stronger "album" than Fold. Instead of letting his bandmates in on the songwriting, each of these tunes is authored by (sigh!) Stuart, sure to please his fawning, freakishly obsessive fanbase.

Truth be told, you have to wade through some thick esoteric muddle to get to the meat of these songs. Inside jokes are rampant - Lisa the Blind Girl from Fold's "The Model" makes an appearance on "Beautiful," the songs "A Century of Elvis" and "A Century of Fakers" have the exact same chord progression, there's even a song called "Belle & Sebastian." But the payoffs of these somewhat obnoxious songwriting indulgences are great. Murdoch's MO is writing melodies that baffle you the first time you hear them, start to charm you the second time, and by the third you're singing along with his beautiful pop hooks and wondering how they could have ever sounded bizarre ("The State I Am In," in particular, has a tune that starts off harsh and then evolves). And when he's not lyrically winking to his bandmates and himself, Murdoch can toss off a casually profound one- or two-liner. Many lyricists try to come up with the perfect way to say "You're a god and I am not" (and some use just that), but Murdoch can let loose with "You made me forget my dreams / When I woke up to you sleeping" like it's nothing.

Belle & Sebastian seem to treat the audience that fueled their early career with disdain. References to trendies abound, and the word "hipsters" is cheekily censored out of the liner notes. In their short career, B&S have shaken up the indie rock world mightily, so much so that their music is, unfortunately, almost beside the point now. But then again, that lack of attention may just have been their master plan all along, so they can continue to create art without John and Jane Hipster looking over their shoulders. That's why I can't tell whether Murdoch is sincere, ironic or just outright lying when, on the outro, he sings "Belle & Sebastian / On the radio / And we're really sorry / For all the trouble we've caused."

Rating: 9

Matt Ozga


The Boy with the Arab Strap
(Matador)

"He had a stroke at the age of 24," is the first line on Belle and Sebastian's latest release, and by the end of the song the man is dribbling spit and wetting himself. This may sound like a song you would never want to hear, but lead singer/songwriter Stuart Murdoch sings an unassuming melody while the band plays restrained and empathetically around him, and the end result is a beautiful pop song about physical disaster that is pensive without being mournful, wistful without being sentimental. Only Belle and Sebastian would have tried to record such a song, and only they could have pulled it off.

Belle and Sebastian are a band of eight who often sound like a band of four, playing equal parts slow and fast songs and handling both with ease. Their brilliant last album, If You're Feeling Sinister, showcased Murdoch's skills, while the new album is more of a democracy. Murdoch still dominates, but other band members contribute their own songs and lead vocals, which adds up to a more eclectic song set while lessening its consistency. The band experiments a bit and more often than not succeeds, and if it's tunes you're looking for, they've got `em. Their antecedents are British acoustic pop, though the instrumental at the end of the new album's last song recalls nothing other than the Rolling Stones "Moonlight Mile". Murdoch's singing recalls no one other than Donovan, but you forgive him after a few listens. Donovan never had songs this good to sing anyway.

Rating: 8

Peter Gorman


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