Sinister: Everithing is different from normal

[Koen]

As promised my translation of a piece on B&S in a big Dutch newspaper. Dutchisms and spelling mistakes are my responsibility. The last paragraph is missing, by request of Jeepster. It's news on a local problem which could cause unneccessary panic and on the solution of which is being worked on.

Koen

The answer to the slump in the British music industry is called Belle & Sebastian. A group of eight, led by the timid frontman Stuart Murdoch, who has a sidejob working as a verger an who sings in a churchchoir on Sundays. Belle & Sebastian offer comfort with softly sung songs and quiet orchestrations with cello and recorder. "Promises of fame, promises of fortune..."

The British record industry is in despair. When things were finally looking up thanks to millionsellers by Oasis, Blur, Radiohead and the Prodigy, it's all starting to collapse again. The big companies are all dropping their hastily contracted guitar bands, and Creation, which was set to become a major player thanks to Oasis, is laying off personnel in droves. The cause, according to several British papers and magazines: no-one is spending money on records and cd's anymore. The public has lost its interest in homegrown popmusic as quickly as it was gained, a few years ago. There are no new mayor talents, and Pulp for instance sold only a quarter of the amount the marketing department had predicted of "This Is Hardcore". It's all very sad, especially for the countless bands which were lured to the record companies with big promises and are already dropped again.
Who do we turn to - when Oasis' hedonistic boys' music doesn't suffice, when the endless decrypting of Radioheads "Ok Computer" leads to nothing and the cartoon figures of the Prodigy annoyingly pop up everywhere. Who do we turn to?
Belle & Sebastian.
The eight of them have named themselves after the novel "Belle et Sebastie" by Madame Cecile Aubrey, which was turned into a television series in the late sixties. They're from Scotland and do everything different than usual. They don't do interviews - well, the drummer and trumpet player are known to have done some, but the creative brains, singer/composer Stuart Murdoch, maintains a steadfast silence. He prefers his job as a verger and singing in a church choir on Sunday mornings. Photographic sessions are another of Belle & Sebastian's don'ts. There's only one publicity shot, about eight people are on it, but whoever they may be, Stuart Murdoch isn't on it.
Their first record "Tigermilk" was released in 1995 in a pressing of a thousand copies and sold out immediately. Without any form of publicity the group had already created a buzz in Glasgow. Big record companies were ignored, the group signed a deal with newly formed label "Jeepster Records" from London, which released the album "If You're Feeling Sinister" in 1996. At first it was mainly Stuart Murdochs voice which attracted attention. Tender, sometimes almost whispering, he sounded like a cross between Nick Drake and Colin Blunstone. But it also had intricate melodies and acoustic arranging to slowly fall in love with. And the lyrics of course, the songs having titles like "Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying" and "Judy And The Dream Of Horses".
"Nobody writes them like they used to/ So it might as well be me" Murdoch sings and he is right. It took a while before the pure beauty of Belle & Sebastian was appreciated in Great Britain, but even though the press are still muttering about the lack of interviews, they are almost universally cherished.
And now September 7, the day their third album "The Boy With The Arab Strap" is released. The band is playing the Shepherd's Bush Empire in London tonight. The venue, with a capacity of 3000, had sold out within a day, even without an advertisement. An announcement on the Internet was sufficient to cause a run on the tickets, even though the public hadn's heard a single note from the new album.
"The Boy With The Arab Strap" is a little musical miracle. Murdoch's arrangements are even more refined. He gives ample space to cello, violin, trumpet and, how sweet, recorder. And he has a sense of humor; you can't keep from laughing when a bagpipe suddenly appears at the end of "Sleep The Clock Around", a paean to lazying about.
No sign of a bagpipe in London though. When the group takes the stage, an hour late and full of nerves, and begins with a cautious "Simple Things" it becomes clear that Belle & Sebastian have no trouble reproducing their refined sound live. Stuart Murdoch and his crew don't make an effort to impress. The sound is whisperingly soft and the songs caress the listener like a spring breeze. Celloist Isobel Campbell, in school uniform, gets the change to lisp her own song "Is It Wicked Not To Care?" and Stevie Jackson gets to sing two songs too, including the hilaric "Seymour Stein".
Seymour Stein is the man from record company Sire, who has launched Madonna's career and gave the Smiths a recording contract in the States. He wanted to sign Belle & Sebastian too and invited the band to dinner in Scotland.
"Promises of fame, promises of fortune" Jackson sings, who couldn't attend the dinner because he had to go to his dishwashing job that night. The band didn't sign with Sire, but with Matador. "Have a nice flight home/ It's a good day for flying" are the parting words to Stein.
Stuart Murdoch sings the rest of the songs in an almost apologizing way. It's as if he wants to say: well, I'm doing my thing here but I can imagine you're bored senseless. It's with relief that he hides himself behind the keyboards to do their price number: "The Boy With The Arab Strap".
In the pub next to the venue the fans had had a chance to study the lyrics to the album which they were finally able to buy that day. It doesn't get clear who that Boy With The Arab Strap is. Is it Aidan Moffat after all, the singer from the Scottish band Arab Strap, with whom celloist Isobel Campbell has sung. Only writer Murdoch knows the answer, but he keeps silent. He does mutter something about "the other band" in the introduction of the song.
A gig by a band of which you don't know the faces (like the Residents) can be a disappointment. But Belle & Sebastian keep the mystery that shrouds them intact, even on stage. Fans get enough material tonight to bother each other with on the Internet: why did they start that late, why no encore, and what was the meaning of tonight's closer, a cover of France Gall's "Poupee De Cire, Poupee De Son"?

Gijsbert Kamer / De Volkskrant 25-9-1998
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