Belle and Sebastian

Probably the finest articulation of youthful longing and the best record for starry-eyed shut-ins since the Smiths' debut, the band really found their voice on their second album. Wonderful story-songs arranged like the most baroque, lost '60s album imaginable but with sly lyrics that could only arise through modern obsessions on love, cynicism and the past.

Belle and Sebastian are a seven-member ensemble from Glasgow, Scotland, that create
elaborate yarns backed by equally elaborate arrangements. If You're Feeling Sinister, their
lush, strings-and-piano-driven second album, stands in stark contrast to much
contemporary pop for a couple of reasons: Not only is it unabashedly gentle, but the album
is completely narrative driven. All the songs have the smooth flow of good storyt... More >

Sly guys, subtler gals. Straight out the stereo, they didn't have enough oomph to open my clip drawer--they go for dim where corporate pop favors hot, their lo-fi more Exile on Main Street than Sebadoh. So I assumed they were two or three twee public-school snobs just smart enough to mock their own privilege, with stray art-buddies chipping in. In fact it appears (although they are coy about it) that they comprise seven popwise Scots in the same general record-collector tradition as Orange Juice, Teenage Fanclub, and Bis, none of whom sound like Belle and Sebastian or each other. And while younger folks debate the intellectual content of Stuart Murdoch's mild-mannered cynicism, for me his clever affect is there to test the strength of his third-power catchiness. You don't just recognize these tunes. You don't just hum snatches in tranquility. You sing along, irresistibly, sometimes with verse and chorus both. Just be glad Murdoch is into bemused sex rather than the glories of E, or attacks on the culture industry. (Grade - A-)