Sinister: Time Out Article

[Pete Ramsdale]

For those of you that haven't seen it, here's the article on Belle and Sebastian 
from Time Out this week. It's all relevant background, and tries to explain why 
the writer likes B&S, although personally, I feel it comes nowhere even close to 
explaining the reasons why I do. Anyway, It's a half decent read......


Band on the Run
---------------

When fey Scottish indie-popsters Belle and Sebastian won Best Newcomer at the 
Brits, a shout rang out across London Arena: Who are they? It was a question 
that amused the band's legions of devoted fans. But just how simple is the 
answer? (Report - Peter Paphides)


It happens once every few years in pop. An unforseen event divides people into 
two camps - those who expected it, and those who are left scratching their 
heads. You'd have to rewind five years to the death of Kurt Cobain to pin-point 
last time it happened. While ITN reported his suicide seven stories into the 
news, the pop-literate kids grieved, and grunge eventually gave way to Britpop. 
It's what pop thrives on, this marking-out of territory. And it happened again 
on Febuary 23rd this year, when a bunch of Glaswegian Orange Juice fans called 
Belle and Sebastian pipped Steps to the Brit award for Best British Newcomer. No 
matter that 'The Boy With The Arab Strap' was the octet's third album, and that 
Fatboy Slim pointedly proclaimed never to have heard of them - less still that 
Tamara Beckwith felt 'betrayed' by the decision.

Such reactions merely re-enforced those battle lines. Steps' supremo Pete 
Waterman took defeat especially hard. His call for an investigation was turned 
down by Radio 1, who had organised the phone vote. His ire didn't fall on 
completely deaf ears, though. In the programme notes to '200 Troubled Teenagers' 
- a recent Belle and Sebastian night held at the New Cross Paradise Bar - fans 
were asked to vote for their favourite B&S songs; 'We've invited Pete Waterman 
to oversee procedures and make sure everything is fair.'

It's no coincidence that the last band to attract such intense adulation from 
such a marginal section of the pop electorate were The Smiths. Belle and 
Sebastian fans don't look too different to the fey young fops who turned up to 
Smiths shows with flowers in pockets. Both bands, too, boast songwriters who 
seemed to incubate in isolation. In the case of Morrissey, no-one had heard his 
lyrics until the mythical day Johnny Marr knocked on his door and subsequently 
teased out a whole interior world set amid the post-war estates that Morrissey 
had patrolled as a youth.

The emergence of Belle and Sebastian's Stuart Murdoch as a songwriter came as a 
similar surprise to those who knew him. 'Stuart was a popular character in 
Glasgow,' says Duglas Stewart, producer of a forthcoming B&S documentary and 
singer with BMX Bandits, 'but no-one knew he wrote songs until about four years 
ago when he just got up and performed three songs at a club put on by (cult 
indie icons) The Pastels.'

'They were called Rhode Island then,' reaclls Mark Jones, co-owner of the band's 
record label, jeepster. 'This demo came to my attention and I was blown away. I 
played it to a friend at Geffen Records, and he sent it to Seymour Stein 
(president of Sire in America, and the man who signed Madonna). Within 24 hours 
of receiving it, he was making plans to come over. It was at that point that I 
sensed how much impact this might make.'

Manhattan Murdoch Mystery
-------------------------

In January 1996, Murdoch stood in a friend's bedroom and played songs like 'The 
State I'm In' and 'String Bean Jean' to talent scouts from 25 record companies. 
'It was amazing,' laughs Jones, 'to see subsidiaries of the same labels 
squabbling for the band's signature. Most groups would have been flattered by 
the attention, but I think the band felt that the record industry was a rip-off. 
For Stuart, choosing a label was a case of damage limitation. At least we were 
able to offer a 50/50 royalty split.'

Belle and Sebastian chose Jeepster, but not before the fledgeling label was 
given a taste of the single-mindedness they would have to get used to. The 
band's drummer, Richard Colburn, was attending a music industry course at Stow 
College in Glasgow, for which the students were required to 'sign' a band and 
put their record out on their own label. It was for this project that Belle and 
Sebastian formed. 'I was left in a strange position,' reflects Jones. 'Stuart 
gave me his pledge, but wouldn't sign for another eight months, after they'd 
recorded 'Tigermilk' for this course. When the day finally approached, I phoned 
him and said, "Are you excited about signing with Jeepster tomorrow?" And he 
replied, "Oh, we already did it today, with a local lawyer." I was like, "Well, 
cheers for telling me!"'

With all 1,000 copies of 'Tigermilk' sold out, London got it's first taste of 
Belle and Sebastian in November 1996 when they arrived to promote the release of 
their second album, 'If You're Feeling Sinister'. According to the band's 
publicist, Chris Stone, 'The Borderline show was one of those gigs when you know 
you're watching history being made.' The buzz was already deafening: the Charlie 
Brown piano patter of 'Seeing Other People', and the schoolyard sexual politics 
of 'Stars of Track and Field' were already stoking the curiosity of fans. At 
this point it seemed inevitable that Murdoch's slender frame would soon be 
gracing the cover of every music magazine in Britain.

What no one banked on was the fact that he wouldn't want any of it. To this day, 
no group photos exist. In the absence of any willingness to entertain media 
intrigue, a view has gathered ground that Belle and Sebastian are contemptuous 
of anyone outside their immediate circle. Much of this can be attributed to 
their legendary shambolic 1997 shows. At the Union Chapel, one changeover 
between songs took so long that guitarist Stevie Jackson steppen in with an 
acoustic 'Like a Rolling Stone'. In New York they left it till the support band 
came off to announce that they were cancelling, citing the illness of Stuart's 
ex-girlfriend, multi-instrumentalist Isobel Campbell, as the reason. The 
impression given during this perion was clearly not lost on Jackson, who issued 
a statement conceding that 'right now, we are a shambles, but.... we could never 
be deliberately contemptuous of an audience'.

'I was at the New York show,' says Gail O'Hara, whose fanzine Chickfactor 
inspired Jackson's eponymous song, 'and it was unfortunate, but as a band, they 
are incredibly protective of each other. If things aren't perfect, they won't 
play. It's born of perfectionism, not rudeness.'

And yet the suggestion won't go away. Perhaps Belle and Sebastian are 
perpetually doomed to rub folk up the wrong way. At last years Shepherd's Bush 
Empire show, they took to the stage phenomenally late - to a mixture of boos and 
cheers. As the noise died down, someone shouted 'You'd better be fucking good', 
only to be heckled down by a cluster of devotees. What ensued was comical: Belle 
and Sebastian attempting to play their songs while opposing factions within the 
audience traded abuse. A certain parallel might amuse the man who wrote 'Like 
Dylan in the Movies': the last time such intra-audience tension divided 
followers from doubters was Dylan's first electric tour.

Belle Epoque
------------

'There is this perception problem,' agrees Jones, 'and sometimes I get 
exasperated when, say, Radiohead or Pulp invite them on their world tour, or 
when they turn down 'Later' because they can't decide what song to do. But it's 
because, live, they're doing something different. It has its flipside, though - 
for instance, their refusal to release singles off albums. As people, they're 
anything but contemptuous. Stevie used to work with aids patients; Isobel used 
to teach disabled children with her cello; and Stuart's just a sweetheart. Even 
at the beginning, when I offered to buy them train tickets, they said, "No, we'd 
rather hitch." And you have to respect that.'

Where to unravel the contradictions, then? 'I don't think there are any,' points 
out one insider on the Glasgow music scene. 'The media should let them be. 
Stuart's never done anything to court stardom or it's paraphernalia. He's even 
held on to his old job as a janitor in the local church. The only bands he ever 
wanted to emulate were The Pastels and Felt, and that happened ages ago. He's in 
Uncharted territory.'

It's a view echoed by Duglas. 'Most of us can get starry-eyed by celebrity. But 
Stuart would much rather talk about the new railings they've just got for the 
town hall.' Perhaps he saw all this coming. On one early track, 'This is Just a 
Modern Rock Song', Murdoch sings, 'I could tell you what I'm thinking / But it 
never seems to do you good...... I'm only lucid when I'm writing songs.' 
Tellingly, it's one of the few lyrics that relinquishes the role of a spectator, 
'keeping an eye on the weather and the passer-by in case one of them ought to 
have a song written about them' (a quote from the band's first, self-written 
press release).

For all the parallels between Murdoch and Morrissey, there's a crucial 
difference. Morrissey bemoans being an outsider; Murdoch relishes it. 'I 
remember this one gig in 1997,' begins our Glasgow source, 'at which Belle and 
Sebastian were headlining. They were already quite big by this point, but Stuart 
just sat there in the corner just observing and writing. His songs came from 
anonimity. Why should he want to sacrifice it?'

Why, indeed, when this band have managed to negotiate such a position of power 
for themselves? Even the Manic Street Preachers - for many, a model of integrity 
- seem obliged to divide their time between magazine covers, award ceremonies 
and endless tours, and all for the standard royalty percentage. Would their 
sales hold up, though, if they simply withdrew? The exciting thing about Belle 
and Sebastian is that no one before them has come so far while refusing so much 
- bar none. Seymour Stein wanted them, but Seymour Stein can't have them. The 
NME would love to claim them as one of their bands, but they can't have them 
either. Over in New Cross, the bearded boys and lank-haired girls seem to have 
claimed them as their own. Who would begrudge them?


 ----------------------------||-------------------------------

 Life is full of regrets, and I've had a few, as Frank Sinatra
 once sang, before hiccuping loudly and falling over sideways.

 Pete Ramsdale - peter.ramsdale at wdr.com
 Phone: 0171 568 3836
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