BELLE AND SEBASTIAN: DEAR CATASTROPHE
WAITRESS (2003)
1) Step Into My Office, Baby;
2) Dear Catastrophe Waitress; 3) If She Wants Me; 4) Piazza, New York Catcher;
5) Asleep On A Sun Beam; 6) I'm A Cuckoo; 7) You Don't Send Me; 8) Wrapped Up;
9) Lord Anthony; 10) If You Find Yourself Caught In Love; 11) Roy Walker; 12)
Stay Loose.
Finally, Murdoch must have realized that the whole
«acoustic-sulk-in-the-corner» formula had been pushed as pushingly pushy as it
could be pushed — one inch more and Belle And Sebastian would have crossed the
border into self-parody, or, at least, «the eternal stereotype». So what's a
poor indie boy to do in such an occasion? Call Trevor Horn to the rescue, and
let him produce a different album for
you — one that would not only revert the band to their upbeat pop roots of Tigermilk, but raise a whole new tree
out of them.
Essentially, Dear Catastrophe Waitress serves as a «reboot» for the B&S franchise.
From the opening martial punch, rousing flutes and trumpets of ʽStep Into My
Officeʼ, you know that this time,
Murdoch is not just going to repeat himself, and by the time the screechy,
tortured twin electric guitars of ʽStay Looseʼ, reminiscent of a Neil Young
circa 1969, finally fade away into the background, the new face of the band is fully
fleshed out, and it's a cool new face. I only wish the melodies were a little
stronger, because the utterly wonderful sound
that they have going on here certainly deserves to be matched with a Ray Davies
or Paul McCartney composing genius. Then again, Murdoch may not hit those kinds
of highs, but at least he is always reliable.
The spiritual essence, of course, remains the
same: really, we are still dealing with the same little boy sulking in the
corner, except that he is now bored with standing, and does a little tap-dance
or even a little rock'n'roll from time to time. He is also willing to share his
love of «young and innocent days» with us more than any time before — for
instance, ʽIf She Wants Meʼ, with its funky ringing guitars and tender-joyful
falsettos, is pretty much an homage to Smokey Robinson, sounding like a
long-lost Miracles outtake. But most of the other songs, no matter how much I
listen to them, sound heavily influenced by all sorts of pop, folk, and blues
bands of the past rather than simply ripping them off, much to Murdoch's honor.
Unbelievable, I know, but «diversity» is the
word of the day: even though the band completely avoids «heavy» guitar tones
and atmospheres, and does not strive to get too far from folk / pop / R&B
territory (e. g. into free-form jazz or Indian music or Balkan dancing), the
overall combinations of tempos, instruments, dynamic developments far surpass
anything they had previously offered us. The «classic» Belle & Sebastian
sound and style of the previous albums is not abandoned completely: in
particular, ʽLord Anthonyʼ (about a bullied school transvestite, what else?) is
a traditionally sparsely arranged morose affair. But now it is only one in a
diverse gallery of all sorts of different affairs.
One of the key lyrical messages may be found on
the cute jazz-pop ditty ʽYou Send Meʼ, which begins with Murdoch non-grieving
over yet another broken relationship and then proceeds to state that
"every sound is tame, every group the bleedin' same / It would make you
mad / What happened to the sounds that left you lying on the floor / Laughing,
crying, jumping, singing / Listen honey, there is nothing you can say to
astound me / Listen honey, there is nothing you can do to offend me / You don't
send me anymore". A fairly fitting judgement for the 2000s, and almost
curiously clashing with the attempt to generate so many different sounds on
this album — but maybe it does mean that Murdoch is desperately trying to
restore the brilliant idealism of old, and, in bringing back all those values
of the Beatles / Kinks / Motown / Big Star era, lend a helping hand in
triggering some sort of creative Renaissance. Who knows? Behind that soft, unpretentious
facade there is certainly a huge load of ambition.
On the other hand, it is also a case of being
too smart for his own good — something that rarely, if ever, happened to the
innocent young fools back in the Sixties. ʽIf You Find Yourself Caught In Loveʼ
is a wonderfully arranged upbeat tune, pianos, electric guitars, orchestration
and all — but it is more of a brain-teasing philosophical treatise than a heart-tugging
pop tune; most of the song's duration is really spent trying to figure out
whether Stuart is being serious when he goes "If you find yourself caught
in love / Say a prayer to the man above" or if it is simply a send-up of
cheap religious advisers (the latter is more likely, given that Belle &
Sebastian had never yet been suspected of deep religious feelings, but then
it's never too late, really, to be born again, and besides, this is symbolic poetry
— «the man above» could be The Highlander for all we know). No chorus, no
meticulously concocted melodic hook — as pretty as the sound is, it is not
highly likely to «leave you lying on the floor».
On the whole, not giving the record a thumbs up
would be a doggone shame — it has such a perfect flow, with all the instruments
played in such loving and affecting ways, that the charm is bound to hold from
first to last second. If the melodies refuse to stay with you (which may not be
the case — might just be a problem of my own perception), the warm memories
most likely will, a good enough cause to return to the album later and try
again. And Murdoch's singer-songwriter-outcast-loner-idealist personality is on
top of it all, unsullied by Trevor Horn's production one bit — which should
placate most of those who suspect a «sellout», as well as irritate those who
like their nostalgic pop bereft of too much personal sentiment. (For the
record, female lead vocals this time around are restricted to just one Sarah
Martin lead on ʽAsleep On A Sun Beamʼ — apparently, the girls were given the
directive to remain silent as part of the overall plan to demolish the flimsy-cozy
«doll's house» of Fold Your Hands. Not
that Murdoch ever was a particularly «masculine» singer, but at least he has
the ability to sing with a tougher-than-china voice).
Check "Dear Catastrophe Waitress" (CD) on Amazon
Check "Dear Catastrophe Waitress" (MP3) on Amazon
IMO, the Life Pursuit is really where melody meets diversity. I want to see what you say about that one!
ReplyDeleteI do like the track I'm a cuckoo, and I also would rather be in Tokyo, listening to Thin Lizzy... o.
ReplyDeleteIt's interesting that they actually reference Lizzy in the song, given that the melody sounds somewhat similar to the boys are back in town.
Belle and Sebastian have never been accused of deep religious feelings? And I suppose neither has Nick Cave? Christianity is one of the defining undercurrents of Murdoch's work, dating back
ReplyDeleteto the first song on the first album ("I gave myself to sin, I gave myself to providence") and continuing. to Write About Love, which he's referred to as an openly Christian record.
I understand Murdoch and yourself have a 'personal soul incompatibility', but this isn't fan nitpicking; that particular statement from your review was plainly ignorant.
Another note, the 'girls' (plural) are probably so silent because Isobel Campbell left the band between this and the previous record. Also kind of a big deal in regards to Murdoch's songwriting themes.