BELLE & SEBASTIAN - Write About Love (Matador)

Way back in 1996 life itself became just a little brighter with the mere existence of one of indie rocks greatest acts - Belle & Sebastian. They were like a security blanket against the twists and turns of failed relationships, shitty jobs and the general cruelty inherent in the human condition. They sung about damaged people in damaged times, but theirs was a voice of understanding and comfort that made the slog not only tolerable, but somehow beautiful. Their wit and wisdom would save many a rainy day, and when they played happy, you couldn't help but get caught up in their infectious joy. It's been four long years since we have heard from Belle and Sebastian, but now the band have returned with their eighth album "Write About Love" just in time for autumn, when they sound even better, although they always sound great.

In discussing "Write About Love" with any long time fan of the band, the first question out of their mouth is whether it sounds like "Life's Pursuit," and "Dear Catastrophe Waitress," the band's decidedly upbeat extroverted forays into 60s English pop, or whether it sounds like the 'old stuff,' which was the definition of twee - slight introverted songs heavy on emotion. So, let's just get that question out of the way at the get go: It sounds like neither. In a lot of ways the album combines all the places Belle & Sebastian have been and takes them someplace new - a place more refined and polished, but as equally effective as anything they have done before.

The record kicks off with what has become personally my favorite song of the year; "I Didn't See It Coming." Sarah Martin leads the song about down on their luck lovers who are determined to live life fully despite their woes. Behind her the band finds a groove with a slight shuffle that slowly builds toward a climax that brings frontman Stuart Murdoch out from the shadows to drive the song home with his pleadings of "make me dance, I want to surrender." The song is Belle & Sebastian in a nutshell; joyful in spite of crappy circumstances, happy, but not ignorantly so. And as someone who can relate all too well to the song's protagonists, every single feeling and word rings true. There is no wrong move, no false step in "I Didn't See It Coming," instead it imparts authentic hope - not hope that things will get better, but hope that you can find joy even when life is dealing you a shit hand.

The band stays upbeat, and slightly groovy with "Come On Sister," which sounds like old school Belle & Sebastian dressed up in all the bells and whistles of the band's increased instrumental repertoire of "Life's Pursuit" and "Catastrophe Waitress," mixing the best of both worlds and coming out on the other side grinning. By the time we get to the third track, the sleepy "Calculating Bimbo," which hearkens back to the band's classic acoustic driven sound, we know we are in for yet another satisfying outing from the band, a point driven home by the superb hard-charging (well, hard-charging by Belle & Sebastian standards) "I Want the World To Stop," which follows.

There are a couple of tracks that drag the proceedings down. Murdock's duet with Norah Jones on "Little Lou, Ugly Jack, Prophet John" sounds more like a Norah Jones song than it does a Belle & Sebastian song, and I don't mean that in a good way. Also the Stevie Jackson fronted "I'm Not Living in the Real World" sticks out like a sore-thumb with it's Austin Powers party on Piccadilly street sound. It's actually not a horrible song, it just a little too much. The band sound much better on the white-boy boogie of the album's titular track and the minor, but gorgeous "The Ghost of Rockschool," a religious song in nature, but one with an undeniable beauty that pulls at even the hardened heartstrings of an old atheist like me.

The band saves two of their best tracks for last. The drop dead perfection of the Martin-fronted "I Can See Your Future" recalls the wonder and beauty of the band's classic b-sides that were often better than anything on the a-sides. Complete with a string section, arching french horn break and Martin's smooth as milk vocals the song is a reminder of what made Belle & Sebastian so special in the first place. Finally there is the slightly darker jangle rock of "Sunday's Pretty Icons," a track that finds Murdock in classic form with lyrics like:

Somebody asked me what hell was like
Lunging and happening, parting of souls
Every girl you ever admired
Every boy you ever desired
Every love you ever forgot
Every person that you despised is forgiven

Because only Murdock would define hell as forgiveness for those who tortured you in life. It's part of his appeal - the sly wit, a biting misanthropy shrouded in tweeness, and the occasional authentic outbursts of empathy, sorrow, anger and joy. It's all here, and it sounds as fresh as it did fourteen years ago, if only tighter and more polished. Fourteen more years please.

"I Didn't See It Coming"


"I Want The World To Stop"


"I Can See Your Future"