THIS IS AN EMPTY BOX.

Tuesday, 12 October 2010

Not your average love songs in Belle and Sebastian’s new release


Let’s face it, selling records is hard: the temptation of free music, online streaming, and bootlegs is simply overwhelming. So what does indie magnate Belle and Sebastian do to continue their comeback streak, they write about love.
The Scottish septet has laid down their knitting kits, woken up from their naps since 2006’s stellar “The Life Persuit” and put out another memorable chamber pop sonic fun fest with “Belle and Sebastian Write About Love”, released on Rough Trade records  Tuesday this side of the Atlantic. This time around, songwriting and arranging duties are distributed democratically among the ensemble, but die hard fans fear not, used-to-be sole songwriter Stuart Murdoch is still cranking out his own brand of sugary-sweet tunes alongside his mates and a few welcomed voices.
The whole sound kick starts with the appropriate and ironic “I Didn’t See It Coming”, initiating the whole experience with an eerie oscillating analog flutter before engaging in the familiar tambourine/drum/piano sequence, segueing into classic B and S. “Come on Sister” follows with a danceable synth motif, but don’t be fooled by the delectable sounds, the trials and tribulations of a decadent lifestyle pop up with it’s haunting and heartbreaking, yet sweetly sung, “Don’t touch me/ If you touch me/ You’ll never go back” and “Tell me about your men/ And your hopes”. What ensues is staple Belle and Sebastian tracks made memorable by their trademark emotional depth masked under the wave of reverb drenched hooks and swings.
The album’s production is aurally more polished and thicker than their previous fares. One can say the sonic aesthetic has been ameliorated to comply with the modern sensibilities and have gravitated away from their famous sound of quiet acoustics with soft-spoken crooning lulls. Instruments are electrified, it’s not piano and dampened percussions most of the time, it’s electric guitar and organ. While being a clearly louder album, the band still has time for its musical roots of gentle plucking and mal d’amour driven lyrics with ditties such as “Read the Blessed Pages” with its honest inquiry (“Did I do my best dear? /That’s all you asked) as well as the aptly titled “Calculating Bimbo” (“A lack of understanding/ you took for being lazy”.) and “Sunday’s Pretty Icons” (“Every love you’ve ever forgotten/ And every person you’ve ever despised/ Is forgotten).
Though the band does not necessarily have a radical new sound, the various voices and styles in the record (courtesy of the other six members) do give it a feeling of variety. “I Want the World to Stop” features escalating voices and walls of shimmering guitars, swooshing violins and motorik drumming. The album’s most memorable moment is arguably “I’m Not Living in the Real World”, a saccharine, poignant look at the naïveté of having a job, schooling and overall living. The ghost-like organ, the guitar sonic assault, phantasmal whistles and buoyant singing come together in pop exuberance, mocking and na-na-na-ing  Fridays and feelings (“Think about happiness/Thinking about sorrow/Don’t think about sorrow/ Thinking about sorrow”).
This is just gratuitous hipster porn.
The group also gets a little help from their friends with some of the tracks. Folk idol Norah Jones pops up to sing back up and a couple of lines in the track “Little Lou, Ugly Jack, Prophet John” and Carey Mullingan (of “An Education” and “Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps” fame) puts on her singing mitts for the albums’ title track, a soul groove with a pound of  Doors-inspired organ.
 Tender pop goodness oozes out of every corner of the record, with lush melodies floating up and down the spectrum. The harmonic thickness is undeniable, and will keep most eager go-getters dancing. If there should be a qualm about this album it should be the slower compositions. Ironically, what has come to define and epitomize the band’s sounds, laid back and mellow tunes,  can sometimes drag on for too long and languor under its own weight. 
While not terribly daring and adventurous, “Belle and Sebastian Write About Love” is definitely a solid album and the band still manages to maintain their emotional. and sonic integrity, providing sweet instances and insights into life as we know it. It’s definitely not “If You’re Feeling” or “The Boy With the Arab Strap”, but it’s a listen that burrows itself deeper after every listen Not just any love songs, these are funny, poignant, critical, and more importantly, honest.

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