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Belle and Sebastian. No, not them... By Zachary Howard Perhaps the only way to describe an unhyped, un- American, and unheard-of band is to give them a context in our own behemoth pop-culture. In the case of Scottish sextet Belle & Sebastian, and their most recent release, "Tigermilk," I offer up George Lucasā coup Jar Jar, "The Phantom Menace," and that meager offering of jaded film students called "The Blair Witch Project." Like "Episode I," we have here a jumble of chronology:
this third full-length release from Belle & Seb is actually their first.
And like "Blair Witch," it entails a bunch of college kids fucking around
with equipment worth more than they are themselves...and pulling it
off successfully. To further peel off our American connotations, particularly
regarding the word "Scottish," there are some certain stereotypes we
must rid ourselves of to find the true center of Belle & Seb's music
and (dare I say it) message. There are no Groundskeeper Willies, no
Mark Rentons, and certainly no Billy Connoly's hidden in the subtext
here. "Tigermilk" presents us with a handful of twentysomethings who
for once have no desire to start a revolution or sell t-shirts and merchandise
or promote the relentless pursuit of women who will have nothing to
do with you or your friends, ever. It's pretty refreshing, actually.
Within "Tigermilk's" lyrics, one finds characters and situations that are believable and honest: marrying for the wrong reasons, succumbing to the daily drudgery of high school, or giving up on love because it simply can't be understood. All this is brought to us with a soulful subtlety by vocalist Stuart Murdoch and the infectious pop beats that remind one of days past, not by mocking or exploiting as the American "retro" ethos does, but by cherishing a childhood that continues to develop well into one's thirties and forties. Picture Tangerine Dream sans hallucinogenics while listening to the contagiously hummable "I Could Be Dreaming," then follow that up with the extensively synthesized "Electronic Renaissance," which comes so close to early-80s Britpop and dance that you can almost smell Margaret Thatcher in the room with you. There are several drawbacks to the treasured nostalgia that thematically ties up the album. Within the irony of living as a grown-up child, there lies an existential depression that nags "Am I missing out on something?" In "We Rule the School," Murdoch begs himself to "do something pretty while you can," as he knows full well that his youth is no longer blooming but in a period of forced stasis that will eventually have to end. Also there is the omnipresent fear of getting it all wrong, living the life of an outsider without putting in some effort towards responsibility: "If you had such a dream, would you get up and do the things you believed in?" Belle & Sebastian break a lot of American pop rules: their lyrics often differ from the liner notes, the band occasionally hits an off-note and doesn't bother to retake the track, and nobody gives interviews or gets their picture taken. Unlike "Episode I" and "Blair Witch," "Tigermilk" offers no promise of a different world on the other side and no revolutionary entertainment extremism. What does emerge is perhaps a desired stereotype, or just the way it could be; people for once celebrating life and all of its encumbrances, that eternal youth that has its price, and an old man sitting somewhere on a porch, shaking his head and smiling, muttering, "The kids are alright." Zachary Howard is a junior english major at Ithaca College. |
