Sinister: NME review - not for the nervous.

Ben Ferneyhough bferneyhough at xxx.uk
Wed Sep 16 15:17:18 BST 1998


Dear all, not seen this posted yet, so thought I'd do the honours.
 
Enjoy ! Ben.
 
			 BELLE & SEBASTIAN 
                         London Shepherd's Bush Empire 
 
 
 
 
                         Shake awake the spirit of John Lennon
                         and go tell the Good Lord above the
                         news - a survey by the Norfolk
                         Evangelical Christian Fellowship has
                         revealed that Sir Cliff Richard is a
                         more famous Christian than The Pope and
                         Mother Theresa. In fact, were it not
                         for the spiritual stamina of a little
                         chappy called Jesus, Sir Clifford would
                         be the most famous God-loving person on
                         the planet. Makes you wonder, doesn't
                         it?
 
                         It most certainly does. Rather like
                         this: 10.15pm on a dank Monday night
                         and the Belle & Sebastian hordes are
                         baying for blood. Really. They have
                         watched, or rather attempted to watch
                         Elliott Smith, who spent his entire
                         solo spot sitting down, thus ensuring
                         that 87 per cent of the crowd were
                         treated to the toppermost of his bobble
                         hat. Very Belle & Sebastian. They have
                         listened to the DJ playing a stack of
                         '60s tunes which are both unfamiliar,
                         yet naggingly tuneful, as if they're
                         all cracking tracks from albums we all
                         really should own, but don't. Very,
                         very Belle & Sebastian. And the band
                         are half-an-hour late onstage. Now boo.
                         And hiss.
 
                         Three thousand Sebastianites cannot be
                         wrong. For, if nothing else, tonight
                         will go down in history as the day that
                         The Spirit Of Sarah Records went
                         stadium rock; when the blushing indie
                         schmindie virgin bride threw off her
                         Field Mice T-shirt, set fire to her
                         Heavenly bra and marched into the hairy
                         arena with a guttural growl which
                         intimated, "Get out of the way, Then
                         Jericho! There's been a few changes
                         around here!" And then Belle &
                         Sebastian come on. And you can't hear
                         anything. Oh well.
 
                         Now, we admire Belle & Sebastian for
                         their literalism - they released a
                         single called 'Dog On Wheels' and the
                         sleeve was a picture of a dog on
                         wheels, and they sound a bit like Felt
                         and wear Felt T-shirts. We admire them
                         for their sublimely individual records
                         which are graceful and intelligent and,
                         like, really grown-up, yet deliciously
                         naive at the same time. And we
                         particularly admire them for their
                         cavalier disregard for the tedious
                         orthodoxy of the music industry, with
                         its ever-spinning hamster wheel of
                         interviews and photo sessions and muddy
                         festivals and mucky exposés. It's just
                         that throughout Belle & Sebastian's set
                         we keep thinking, 'God help us if
                         there's a war'.
 
                         Quiet? We'll give you quiet. "Dance,
                         you lame fuckers!" shouts a man in the
                         balcony. "Hrrmphff. Must be the heat!"
                         mumbles Stuart Murdoch, by way of
                         response. "Turn it up!" shouts a punter
                         by the bar. "Shut the fuck up!" snarls
                         the man near the back. Now, this is
                         getting good. We can tell that Belle &
                         Sebastian are a teensy-weensy below
                         full volume by the way in which a
                         slightly twitched tambourine drowns out
                         the guitar and a sodding xylophone solo
                         rings out loud and true, much like
                         Mister Edge's big axe on Red Rock all
                         those years ago. Even loitering 20
                         yards away from the band, it feels like
                         you're standing in the Doctor Martens
                         tent at Reading. Watching Red House
                         Painters on the main stage. "It could
                         all do with some va-voom," observes a
                         perplexed passing enthusiast. And he
                         isn't wrong.
 
                         There really is very little point in
                         taking Belle & Sebastian to task for
                         being 'mimsy'. This is rather like
                         berating Black Sabbath for being a bit
                         'metal', like suggesting that Brian
                         Molko looks a bit like a 'girl', like
                         having a go at Jamiroquai for being a
                         bit of a 'tosser'. It does not matter.
                         What does matter, however, is the
                         reverence afforded to this free-flowing
                         ragbag of Scottish shysters.
 
                         The smallest offhand joke brings
                         knowing guffaws from the masses. A
                         mid-set raffle (we shit thee not, kids
                         - first prize: rare-as-a-dodo's-bum
                         copy of debut album 'Tigermilk')
                         induces admiring coos. The Belle &
                         Sebastian mugs on the merchandise stall
                         cause fans to blurt, "Oh look! A Belle
                         & Sebastian mug! How sweeeeet!" And
                         unsurprisingly, the lilting likes of 'A
                         Century Of Fakers' and 'The Boy With
                         The Arab Strap' send the anti-moshpit
                         into the sort of raptures which could
                         seriously damage your health - quite
                         literally in one case as Murdoch has to
                         stop the gig to allow security the
                         opportunity to rescue one overemotional
                         sort.
 
                         For while Belle & Sebastian undoubtedly
                         represent the M & S of musical
                         nourishment (classy and clever, yet not
                         out of the average shopper's reach) and
                         their followers were most certainly
                         born to be mild, there is one hell of a
                         weird vibe surrounding this very
                         strange band. Loyalty? Passion?
                         Earnestness? Not since the heyday of
                         The Smiths have we witnessed such an
                         outpouring of obvious, unblemished
                         delight from an 'indie' audience. But
                         whereas Morrissey gave it his
                         ego-ballooning all, revelling in the
                         love and the limelight, Belle &
                         Sebastian appear to be content to
                         shuffle along in the shadows, all
                         gentle strokes for introspective folks,
                         giving back as little as they possibly
                         can. And don't the kids just love it.
                         Any chance of an encore? Don't be
                         silly.
 
                         Sir Cliffage, almost the globe's most
                         famous Christian. Belle & Sebastian,
                         soon to be playing an arena near you.
                         Makes you wonder, doesn't it? 
 
                                                  Simon Williams
 
 
 
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