Belle and Sebastian – The BBC Sessions

There are no shockwaves sent through the indie rock blogosphere whenever Belle and Sebastian generate a new release. And no one has ever strained a muscle heaping mounds of praise upon the adept and ever-evolving musicians that comprise the band. Oh sure, there have been a few positive opines within the two-week to one month span of a new LP; 2006’s The Life Pursuit garnered some rather positive attention for being something of a departure from the slower folk/pop the band had produced on previous albums like Tigermilk, and If You’re Feeling Sinister prodded the band’s critical acclaim along in an amicable fashion. But B&S have always been relegated to the corners of the cool kids’ dance hall, content to compose wispy, yet sharp pop melodies for the more discerning crowd who’s often found smoking out back behind the gymnasium while the herd dances on inside.

The BBC Sessions is a collection of live performances from BBC radio and spans material from their early Tigermilk-era and includes nothing past If You’re Feeling Sinister. Later-era fans of B&S have a choice laid before them; procure this album for a fine introduction to the band’s earlier material or avoid it altogether. BBC Sessions most likely isn’t going to win any middling fans over—it’s possible it may turn them off given the latter, slightly sleepier half of the album—but the gem is in the revelation of how nuanced and skilled the band is at recreating the songs in a live setting. The analog warmth enveloping the tracks is a crucial reminder of what we’ve lost in the digital age. (I’m opting for purchasing the album on vinyl to circumvent the use of digital devices; it’s that noticeable.)

Snappier tracks like “Judy and the Dream of Horses,” “The Stars of Track and Field,” and “Like Dylan in the Movies” are crafted meticulously to the verge of perfection, enhancing what was likely a little known fact prior to this album: B&S are a one hell of a live band. And singer Stuart Murdoch’s breathy count-ins on a handful of tracks are like an ebullient wedding march for the loner bridesmaid proving that, not only does the band understand the necessity of rhythm, but they can maneuver exactingly from point to point within the rhythms’ cage, instead of being confined by it. From the bass/drum intro on “Shoot the Sexual Athlete” to the horn punches on “Lazy Jane” that ultimately give way to a frenzy of electric guitar and keys, B & S layer instruments to produce a 3-4 minute build instead of the loud-quiet-loud formula others’ have beaten to a pulp.

Murdoch has always been an observant lyricist with a penchant for little vignettes about fragile and quirky characters. The live setting here allows for the lyrics to unfold genially and the deft humor is exposed more so than on the studio records. “My brother had confessed he was gay/ it took the heat off me for a while/ he stood up with a sailor friend/ made it know upon my sister’s wedding day,” he sings on “The State I’m In.” But that’s how it always is with a band like B&S; they’re always the onlookers having their thunder stolen by others who demand attention through more crude methods. But, like the character in the erstwhile song (is it you, Murdoch?), they don’t seem to mind so much: the spotlight’s a bit too bright for their liking from time to time.

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Tagged as: Glasgow, pop/rock

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