Essential Singles and B-sides 1997-2001

I came to this phenomenal group a decade since their genesis, and quickly became enchanted by their brand of late-night, hypnotic and melancholic pop music. It seems peculiar that I should’ve taken so long to discover them, seeing as I am Scottish and they’re local heroes in most Edinburgh music shops, but my late nineties was dominated by the rise of Travis and I turned to Idlewild for my non-mainstream local rock kicks. Which was a shame, because this septet trounces both of these bands, and pretty much stands in a league of their own for moving melodies, bittersweet lyrics and occasional bridges that achieve such dramatic highs as influences the Smiths or Nick Drake. So when I finally picked up a copy of their magnum opus ‘If You’re Feeling Sinister,’ I quickly latched onto the other releases. This album was an astonishing achievement for such a young group, and after several listens it became very clear they a prodigiously talented unit. From the distant, ethereal piano solo in ‘Dylan In The Movies,’ to the gentle, indelible sway of ‘Get Me Away I’m Dying’ or the utterly arresting violin of ‘The Boy Done Wrong Again,’ it was incumbent upon me to then learn more and immerse myself more in their world.

The group’s allure is that each of their songs function as powerfully as pictures, and have a remarkable out of time quality to them, while still being highly enjoyable and idiosyncratic. The group also are one of the few bands in Britain (or possibly the only band) who share the same attitude to singles as the Smiths, and view albums as separate entities. This double disc set compiles all of the songs released as singles between 1997-2001, and is therefore essential for anyone enamoured with their LPs and interested in their music. Lyrically, main song writer Stuart Murdoch mixes often fantastical, child-like tales with bittersweet observations from the Scottish working class. His pen is as just as barbed as Morrissey’s and his voice just as effective despite rarely ever rising about a quiet, contained drawl floating alone with the music. The band have the knack of being to write songs that send the requisite amount of tingles down the spine for any pop group, which elevates them in my opinion to the pantheon of the greats.

The tracks on the first disc were available to overseas audiences on the ‘Lazy Line Painter Jane’ boxed set, but they haven’t been all compiled together on one disc until now. Unlike the Smiths, Belle & Sebastian don’t allow any overlap, so there are no album songs here, just 26 tracks with enough incredible material to make it a necessary addition to any self-respecting music fan’s collection (unless you already have all the EPs.) The material is mostly incredible, and this group’s preciousness means only one or two songs clunk. There are acoustic gems with tremendous choruses, such as the stunning ‘Beautiful,’ and moments where Murdoch’s words seem a little to true to home for comfort, such as on the magical ‘A Century of Fakers.’ Chances are foreign fans won’t get many of the references to M&S and Boots, but the band has always been consciously literary and arty, so there are high-brow references here as well. Disc 1 is uniformly stronger, and the material on disc 2 is oftentimes a little too airy, but on the whole this is a near perfect double disc set. The group, asides from one or two errant players, consists of Murdoch on vocals, guitar and keybords, Stevie Jackson on vocals and guitar, Chris Geddes on keyboards, Richard Colburn on drums, Isobel Campbell on violin, guitar, vocals and keyboards, Mick Cooke on trumpet and bass and Bobby Kildea on guitar and bass. Phew.

Disc 1 (54:13)

1. Dog On Wheels (3:11)
This is the first track from the EP of the same name, and each song on this EP is faultless in terms of quality. The dark, wistful sound of the band is perfectly introduced on the song which is a quick and almost calypso sounding track. Opening with the swaying bass line and acoustic guitar, the melody ascends upwards then downwards, the chords just effortlessly floating together as Stuart Murdoch’s hushed vocal comes in. The ends of each verses are stretched out just so, and some emphasis is placed on each line, Murdoch’s voice not being particularly amplified. His style here is subtle and brooding and his words sound like confessions or bitter afterthoughts. “When I was a boy I was confounded by you/ Now I’m still a boy I am indebted to you/ Every song I ever wrote was written for you,” he sings. Murdoch’s lyrics very often deal obliquely with the psychological ramifications of problems arising from adolescence in adulthood, which makes the Smiths comparisons inevitable. He is about as a cryptic and as personal a writer as Morrissey, even more so, and this track’s lyrics blend between emotional and just that little bit distant. The trumpet bridge between the first half of the song and the second is terrific, imbuing it with some calypso flavour, and it joins the rest of the track for the catchy but eerie ending. The song sounds like some beautiful track that some lost sailors would dance to as the sun sets of the Haitian coast, and is a true Belle & Sebastian classic.

2. The State I Am In (4:59)
This song mixes the band’s witty and bittersweet storytelling style to a truly tremendous and dream-like bed of music. Opening just with the acoustic guitar and Murdoch, as many of the songs do, the first verse is almost a cappella until the guitar reluctantly intensifies and the drums bring in the rest of the band. “I was puzzled by a dream, stayed with me all day in 1995/ My brother had confessed he was gay, it took the heat off mw for a while,” he begins, narrating the sporadic, and hazy verses, here which are recollected as if from a dream. He talks of marrying an illegal immigrant at his sister’s wedding and then kicking the crutches away from a crippled friend and then, rightly, all the remorse he then felt at such activities. There are many humorous lines to savour here, and the verses are the focal point for this track, and an organ joins in for the third verse to imbue the song with the slightly religious overtone it borrows from the lyrics. The chorus doesn’t come until around two and half minutes, and when it does, it is preceded by a small guitar solo and a gently rises and falls in swooping, ethereal lifts. The song ends with Murdoch and backing vocals from Stevie Jackson, who sang the idiosyncratic ‘Seymour Stein,’ on their third LP, and is a peculiar but utterly beguiling song.

3. String Bean Jean (4:42)
A mysterious, and bluesy guitar solo drives this song. The music makes its hardest attempt to drive and rock, but it sways and lifts in its usual way while Murdoch recollects a fun time he had with some friends. His voice is stretched from some louder notes, which breaks from his usual fey drawl, and there are some keyboard effects to keep the fast-moving free-wheeling feel of the song. The only disconcerting moment is where he sings ‘leccy bill,’ and his accent is deliberately forced out in a burst of pride, conjuring up Colin Macintyre from the equally super Mull Historical Society. The harmonies provided here are spot on, and although the lyrics are nothing more than it seems idle memories of great times, that is something the band preserves and capture in its music, the wonderful averageness of life, as well as the downright nasty moments. I promised I wouldn’t used the word twee in this review, but it’s hard to think of other words for songs like this.

4. Belle and Sebastian (4:43)
This is a classic Purbeck marble of pop. Opening with some cute glockenspiel trills, the track quickly moves into a singalong favourite, the band’s theme tune. The piano provides a nice countermelody for the louder drum backing and the twiddling guitars, and the lyrics and harmonies here are at their peak, especially for the chorus. “Everyone thought it was a shame, for Belle and the boy Sebastian/ Belle was ok but oh Sebastian went to far again/ Crashed his car in the rain,” Murdoch sings, his voice in danger of floating of into the stratosphere. A terrific interplay between the flute and the guitar provides an almost timeless and cartoon-like melody, and the flute joins in for the final rendition of the chorus. No other band write songs such as these, and they conjure of the best of all the dreamy 㥄s pop bands, and its fabulous they can move from brooding numbers into such light and pleasing songs as this.

5. Lazy Line Painter Jane (5:47)
The centrepiece of the eponymous EP, this is a slow-building track which builds passionately through a wonderful shared vocals with guest vocalist Monica Queen, Murdoch and guitarist Stevie Jackson. Opening with a cool, sixties guitar groove and a sly organ backing Murdoch enters with his verses about the titular character. A seductive bass line, sublime chord changes and the cool guitar passages make this another winner. The chorus is where the song builds during the first half, incorporating some handclaps into its exciting drive. Midway point, the track slows down and Isobel Campbell and Murdoch duet with the humorous bridge: “You are in two minds, tossing a coin to decide whether you should tell your folks/ About a dose of thrush you got from licking railings.” It is the final section of the track, when the organ solo starts spiralling in a carnivalesque pulse, the drums pound in and the guitar jangles with impunity, where the songs becomes a bona fide Belle & Sebastian stadium filler. The chorus here is mainly Monica’s, her voice the clearest and loudest while she sings the repeated lines.

6. You Made Me Forget My Dreams (3:47)
A stripped-down piano ballad, this is a luscious song where Murdoch’s gentle croon is given full reign. His lyrics dominate here, and backing is provided by some gentle guitar trills. Somehow he manages to coach some pathos from the lines: “I was building a space rocket, with the boy who bass guitar/ With the boy who’s wearing flares, he didn’t care.” A canny trick, indeed. A delightful string section enters for the finale of the song and some distant drums and tambourine create the mysterious and out of time quality the band insists on preserving. Some harmonies enter on the final verse, before the song for some reason decides to end itself with some loud, distorted guitar buzz which is an unpleasant and bizarre way to end this song.

7. A Century of Elvis (4:27)
The only real misstep on the first disc, this is a spoken-word song recalling a chance encounter with the King and is typically bizarre. Taking the music from the superior track nine, the voice is low down in the mix, making his words difficult to actually make out, and the repeated keyboard phrase isn’t as effective for this song as it is in the upcoming track. Not dissimilar in pointlessness to ‘A Space Boy Dream’ from their 3rd LP, most folks who aren’t Scottish won’t have a clue what he’s saying and the story is whimsical but not particularly clever or amusing. Still, this is only an EP track, and credit to them for taking the leap. ‘The Gift’ by the Velvet Underground is the only other narrated track I can think of, and well, it is better than that, if that’s any consolation. The only song to skip on the entire disc, I reckon.

8. Photo Jenny (3:12)
Continuing Murdoch’s fascination with kooky female protagonists, this lightly punning song is another almost stream-of-consciousness style track about the life of said character. Beginning with a softly melancholic organ and more gentle guitar licks, Murdoch’s vocals are downbeat and wistful. The chorus is the strong point again: “They got the drugs I could use but then I don’t need any/ All that I want is a photograph of Photo Jenny.” Some jazzy trumpets beef up the chorus, and the soaring climax with vertiginous harmonies and rumbling drums is almost breathtaking. Another finely crafted pop gem.

9. A Century of Fakers (4:27)
One of the stand out astonishing songs of the album, this track pretty much pulls everything out of the back at once and stands alone as one of the group’s best and a personal favourite of mine. Murdoch’s lyrics are at their sharpest here, and he sings his barbed lines with enough pathos to get you to sit up and take notice, even if his voice is still restrained. Opening with the swirling keyboard phrase, which sounds like the theme tune to Trumpton, and the jangling guitar, the chord changes are what makes this bittersweet track phenomenal. “There are people going hungry every day, they’ve got nothing on their plates/ And you’re filling you’re fat face with every different kind of cake/ And if you ever go lardy, or go lame, I will drop you straight away,” he dares to begin with, the rest of his verses soaring as high as the clouds. The violin accompaniment takes the song into the melancholic territory of their finest sad songs and the harmonies are spot on. The whole track just floats along with the timeless jangle that their best work does, and the chorus is repeated as almost a pleading mantra towards the end. “Everybody’s trying to make us another century of fakers,” Murdoch sings, joined by Campbell and a gorgeous countermelody from a theremin somewhere in the background. Stellar work.

10. Le Pastie De La Bourgeoisie (3:08)
This is the hardest the band will ever get to real rocking and the guitar is deliberately rough for this quick burst of manic pop. A organ solo begins proceedings and the guitar growls in, before the violin and Murdoch enters for what is essentially another skewered, plaintive pop song about adolescent development, literature and times gone by. The band have never sounded closer to the Smiths around the first verse, and Murdoch’s vocals become slightly harder to make out while the instrumentation encroaches on his verses. Musically this song is not a million miles away from ‘Like Dylan in the Movies’ from their second album, and sort of becomes mired down in loud, smothering harmonies and overproduction towards the end. It’s fairly short, however, and I think they just pull it off before it’s too late. This, the previous track, and the rest of the songs are from the 3...6... 9... Seconds of Light’ EP, which comes with an entertaining story from the idiosyncratic front man.

11. Beautiful (5:12)
Another stand alone classic, this is a delightful ballad which again has some of the finest arrangements and lyrics from the band. It all began with just Stuart Murdoch and his acoustic guitar, and that’s how this track starts. With a gentle strumming on the guitar, the first verse arrives and the track becomes a classic when the chorus is sung: “They let Lisa go blind, they world was at her feet and she was looking down/ They let Lisa go blind/ But everyone she knew thought she was beautiful only slightly mental.” The strings accentuate this effectively emotional chorus as the song allows some instrumentation to come in at around the second minute. Some trumpet backing and nice glockenspiel countermelodies are added while the band proves that although Murdoch by himself is wonderful, when they join him, their sound becomes very special indeed. It is the chorus here which cries out with emotion, and the final rendition should do the job of breaking your heart very well. Once again, the guitar melodies shimmer, coursing throughout the song and providing the template, the drums provide support and the organ makes the song sound so luscious. The track fades out with before a distant, echoic reprise of the chorus and is an ethereal, haunting way to end the track. Unbeatable.

12. Put The Book Back On The Shelf (3:34)
Not quite able to beat the previous track, this ends the more melancholic first disc with the proper tone. Opening with another a cappella performance, the song follows a similar structure to many of the opening songs. A delightful trumpet solo gives it more melodic punch and imbue it with the necessary individuality. Murdoch’s obsession with literature makes up most of the lyrics, which sometimes can be difficult to understand. The drums, played by are given some time in the spotlight in between Martin and Murdoch’s harmonies.

Songs For Children (2:49)
This acoustic-guitar driven track rounds off the disc in characteristically odd style. Murdoch sings: “Belle and Sebastian on the radio, and we’re really sorry for all the trouble we’ve caused,” which is odd, as they haven’t been anything short of delightful. This is perhaps just a little bit of a self-conscious jest about some of their material, and their debatably childish sounding melodies, and there is a tremendous harmonica solo which blares throughout the midway point of the song which defeats the loud bass line and Murdoch’s always very sparse guitar and vocal.

Disc Two (53:10)

1. This Is Just A Modern Rock Song (7:13)
A slow-building track, this goes along at a crawling pace, expanding fully on the band’s use of quiet acoustic guitar, gentle vocals followed by a build-up of the other stirring instrumentation. Here, Murdoch begins, then the rest of the group slowly enter, creating another lush, glorious track which builds into an epic, and beautiful tune making full use of its long running time. Without getting into too much detail, basically all of the components the band utilise to make one of their gorgeous songs are just subdued, and the violins, organ and trumpet all enter whenever they feel like it. Murdoch almost whispers the lyrics here, which are almost criminally quiet. Finally the rest of the band join in to express the true sentiment of the song: “This is just a modern rock song, this is just a sorry lament/ We’re four boys in our corduroys, we’re not terrific but we’re competent.” Humility of the most erroneous kind, I feel.

2. I Know Where The Summer Goes (4:35)
The loss of a fabulous summer has been a recurring theme throughout this band’s music, especially the loss of childhood innocence. Lyrically this deals with the same territory as ‘A Summer Wasting’ on their 3rd LP, and uses light vocals, a loud organ and mellow guitars to create a lush, slightly indolent sound.

3. The Gate (4:24)
A misty, beguiling track, sung by Isobel Campbell here. Some gorgeous, shimmering piano lines mingle with the wistful bass line and the trumpet builds to create another luscious tracks which reaches forward again without pushing for any sort of ethereal climax.

4. Slow Graffiti (3:22)
Another piano ballad, this relishes its slow opening before a more unusual and funky beat is established and the track successfully avoids repeating the melody from the elegiac ‘Fox In The Snow’ from their second LP. The guitars and drums clatter in a harder beat, while the violin and trumpets wail together, twisting and jerking to create a pleasingly original sound. The organ and harmonies are muted more in favour of the emotive instrumentation, although the song is maybe a tad too peculiar to really hit any emotional core, and the chorus is just as weird: “Listen Johnny, you’re like a mother, to the girl you’ve fallen for/ And you’re still falling.”

5. Legal Man (2:42)
Back in the early eighties there was a short-lived pop trio called the Maisonettes, and they’re resurrected by Belle & Sebastian for this track from the titular EP. Taking the tone up, this track is more amusing with some calypso melodies here. The guitar plays the groovy hook, while the organ swirls with impunity, the whole song like some B-side from a '60s movie score. The band are clearly taking their inspiration from all these great English pop groups of this decade, and this is a simple nugget of shameless pop, ending with the rousing plea of: “Get out of the city and into the sunshine, get out of the office and into the springtime!” This was one of their oddest EPs before the turn of the new millennium, but unreservedly their most entertaining.

6. Judy Is A Dick Slap (4:03)
More groovy guitar and bass for this loopy instrumental. Whizzing keyboard effects dominate over the loud bass line and the tingling phrases of genuine melody on the guitar. The whole track surges upwards in a outward chord progression, and is actually hugely entertaining whilst still managing to retain some fraction of the trademark pathos in amongst the video game FX. The track ends after the third minute and plays out with a melancholy refrain on the piano, a conscious inclusion perhaps to show that they aren’t too comfortable with such goofy abandon.

7. Winter Wooksie (2:39)
A fine slice of Kinks-style pop, this has a bouncy melody and is sung lusciously by Kackson here, I believe. The acoustic guitar and piano are similarly gorgeous but the vocals, harmonies and lyrics are the most appealing, especially some of plaintive verses: “On summer days when the sun shines, I watch the tape/ And through the snow, through the window, I watch her wave to me.” A wonderful third verse and wistful flute solo towards the end seals the song as a classic and it ends far too soon for my liking.

8. Jonathan David (2:56)
An odd choice for single, this is a bouncy track, again sang by Jackson here, is one of my least favourites here. The melody errs on the side of haunted house music, and the organ can be slightly intrusive as it squeaks in and out of the left and right speakers. The piano solo is great, however, but the track seems to jump along and the lyrics are a tad less sharp than previous singles. The harmonies at the bridge before the third verse err on the noisome Beach Boys-assault of Elephant 6 groups like the Olivia Tremor Control, which is no bonus. Still, it’s over in under three minutes, so it’s hard to complain. The band would be suffering some internal management problems are this time, which resulted in the band’s beleaguered fourth LP, ‘Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like A Peasant’ in 2000.

9. Take Your Carriage Clock and Shove It (3:33)
This should maybe have been the single, as not only has it an excellent title, it is a much more affecting and arresting track. Opening with some Hannonesque arrangements borrowed straight from Vivaldi, Murdoch returns to vocals here, and is has the most emotive voice in the group. The guitar plays a wistful tune in the opening verse, and establishes the small narrative the song utilises, and the track has the goose bump qualities from many of the tracks on disc 1. Within the first verse which he quotes from the man the song is defending: “Honour forbids me but honour be damned, you have whined till you got what you want/ I did the work and when things were going badly, you left us to rot.” The track introduces a slight country tinge into its bridge after a reference in the second verse, and the strings rise with dignity and power, like a plaintive classic waltz. Murdoch undercuts the majesty with the quiet verse: “Night after day after night I’ve been working despite of you f--king us all/ Now I’m going to die I don’t care if you cry, just please leave me alone.” Definitely one of the standout tracks on the second disc and testament to the influences that the band have imbibed over the four years spanned on this collection.

10. The Loneliness of a Middle Distance Runner (4:32)
The title, wilfully amended from a '60s movie classic with Sir Michael Redgrave, this has a freer structure to it, and is dreamier than the previous track. The melody drifts around the types of pop played by bands like Blur and Suede around the time, although retains nothing but its personal originality. The sixties influences here are more evident in places, especially around the chorus, where Byrds comparisons are glaringly obvious. A rather squished violin solo makes this track a slight challenge, but courses along on its strong chorus and the lively plucking of the alternate guitars emerging from each speaker. Ending with a rather tinny organ and flute solo, this is a touch muddled, but not an absolute disaster.

11. I’m Waking Up To Us (3:48)
A simpler structure, Murdoch sounds as if his eyes are filled with tears here in the verses. The strings are used here in what is musically rather jumpy and odd, but an actually pleasing pop song. The funky bass line is continuous, but muted through soaring passages dominated by staccato flourishes from the orchestra and a delightful piano solo at the second bridge where these songs either break or make. The lyrics are best not read, here, as they are functional. Minus points for the length and the unnecessary flute solos towards the end.

12. I Love My Car (5:09)
Luckily, this album from the band’s last '90s EP ends with two great songs. This opens with some delightful trills, and a gorgeous, carefree section from the guitars before opening into another Kinks-style pop gem. An indulgent and swaggering trumpet solo opens the song with bounces along with some stops and starts and pleasantly archaic verses. The highlight is definitely the jazzy jam session with the sax and flutes at the second bridge and at the end of the track and what sounds like a banjo being bashed somewhere among the mix.

13. Marx and Engels (3:45)
This lovely, melancholy tune ends the album as the first disc began. Murdoch returns to his quiet singing style and this matches the gems from the first disc, opening with the repeated verse: “There is misery in all I hear and see, from the people on TV/ After their tea when life begins again, they’ll be happier than me.” The oddest thing about this track is the quote from the Communist Manifesto which is sung almost inaudibly by Sarah Martin over the verses. The track closes with some fading flutes and keyboard effects and before everyone is too alienated, and really has nothing much to do with Communist Russia in the 19th century, unless I’m missing some subtle subtext.

Belle & Sebastian: Push Barman To Open Old Wounds (107:23)
So, as stated in the lengthy preamble to this lengthy review, this album is a necessary purchase for all converts to this group’s brand of gorgeous pop music. This group are really still one of the finest functioning pop bands in Britain, perhaps the world, and no other group really achieve such power with their songs as they do. Fans of LPs such as ‘If You’re Feeling Sinister’ and ‘The Boy With The Arab Strap’ really should snap this up immediately, as the material on offer is of the same fabulous calibre. The deluxe edition, by the way, offers nothing special except it comes in a thick bind instead of a two disc jewel case. All of the humorous liner notes from the first EPs are reprinted here along with the lyrics in full. The band’s sound has been made meatier recently via Trevor Horn, and their latest album ‘The Life Pursuit’ a hit and miss with fans, but this double disc set captures the group at a time when all they had on their mind was just playing and nothing else. A testament to a truly fine band at its peak, this needs to be purchased immediately by all B&S fans. Enough said.