Belle & Sebastian

Write About Love

Opener "I Didn't See It Coming," featuring lead vocals by, I'm told, actress Carey Mulligan (An Education), is best heard through headphones. If played on your stereo or computer or in your car, you'll miss all the best parts of the song - frontman Stuart Murdoch's subtle backing harmonies and, mostly, layer after intricate layer of cutesy flourishes. Perfectly well written and composed, the lead vocals don't work as well as they should; a shock when you consider how well Murdoch worked with guest female vocalists on his God Help the Girl side project. It's sad to see such an otherwise great pop song soiled by a guest vocal that needn't be. (Mulligan or not, the vocal doesn't work.)

Write About Love, the eighth proper studio record from Glasgow indie poppers Belle & Sebastian is focused, you guessed it, on the endlessly interesting topic called love. Recorded once again with American producer Tony Hoffer, who handled duties on the band's last record, the excellent The Life Pursuit, Write About Love again sees the band in big and full mode, here mixing the preciousness of their early records with the power of, say, The New Pornographers. Murdoch again playing the role of creative honcho (as he should have been all along), the songs are all well written and composed, if not as effectively as the band's last two proper releases.

Belle albums, no matter how or when they were recorded, are all the same in one particular way. And by that, I mean that they all feature two or three instant standouts, one or two absolute snoozers, and six-to-eight mid-tempo growers. Some records have more standouts or snoozers that others, but all feature a solid number of songs whose appeal grows with familiarity. Track seven, "I'm Not Living In the Real World," is a poppy grower, for example, while "Read the Blessed Pages" is a snoozer and "Come On Sister" is a standout. That's just how Belle & Sebastian albums work. Despite crafting pretty straight forward pop music, the Belles have never been a band that makes an accurate first impression. This is because, partly, they make very detailed, clever music. Grasp the melodies and hooks easily, sure; then digest them; then whatever. Be you a student of Burt Bacharach or the guy working the music counter at Barnes and Noble, to form a proper opinion about a Belle album (and by that, I mean to respect the artists involved with repeat listens), you have to give these songs a week or more. (You're not special, so buck up or shush up.)

That said, I didn't personally like the Norah Jones guest vocal on "Little Lou, Ugly Jack, Prophet John" (or most of this record) the first or fifteenth time I heard it. A man usually bursting with great taste, I get the feeling Murdoch's eyes were lost in the fame and beauty of Jones' smoky glow. Again, too bad, the song seemed otherwise solid. Pretty girls make graves; Stu, of all people, should know that much.

"I Can See Your Future" sums up Write About Love pretty well. It should be a new indie pop classic. It's written by a man with a clear gift and the composition is one to love deeply on Saturday afternoons in the fall with your beloved. But damn, the lead vocal, again, is handed off to some Isobel Campbell impersonator. Murdoch, who went through a sad phase a few records ago - where he'd often hand off both writing duties - made two consecutive classics (Dear Catastrophe Waitress and Pursuit) last decade where he was almost always upfront, alone. Well, damn, he's up to his old failures again, seemingly letting whoever sing whenever they please. The man writes and composes great pop music, but all the string and keyboard swells in the world can't save the dooming of less talented friends and guests. And thus, here it is, Write About Love, one of the very worst Belle & Sebastian records yet. Maybe even the worst. If you're a fan, be sure to check out the songs, pick your favorite and maybe make an EP length playlist. Then go listen to something else and hope for yet another Belle comeback classic.   7.5/10

Written by G. William Locke