When Composure Returns...
By the turn of the 21st century, Belle & Sebastian had released three incredibly well-received records, ranging from the relatively low-fidelity folksiness of
Tigermilk to the more refined twee sound of
The Boy With The Arab Strap. Right dab in the middle of those two releases is the revered
If You're Feeling Sinister, which is regarded by many as the groups magnum opus. I believe I've commented enough on bands' opuses actually being a different record (see
The 3rd Planet), but I would like to talk about my personal favorite record from the group. As the title implies, it's their third album,
The Boy With The Arab Strap. While I think it's very clear why
IYFS is seen as the groups opus,
The Boy is undeniably unique in its atmosphere and instrumentation, in ways that better suit my own personal experiences with the group. Which is why I'm writing about it now.
I remember exactly where I was when I first heard this record. Sure, this isn't as notable as, say, knowing where I was when some once-in-a-lifetime event occurred, but its a moment that sticks in my head, haunting me like nothing else really does. It was early December of 2021, maybe the 3rd, and I decided to stop by my local F.Y.E. The clouds were that gloomy light gray, where it looked like it could rain, but it probably wouldn't. I had nothing in mind for what I wanted to purchase, but I expected to find something good. I stood in the "B's" and glanced over each name card fixed between CDs, until I landed on Belle & Sebastian. I knew of the group; they were the butt of a joke in High Fidelity (one of my favorite movies), in which Jack Black's character calls them "sad bastard music" and promptly turns them off. The only CD they carried was The Boy With The Arab Strap, which wasn't a record I was familiar with. I held the CD in my hand, analyzing the cover and backside, flipping it over and over again until I finally decided that I should buy it. What's better than listening to an album for the first time on CD? Besides, it was only four bucks. I left the store, pretty satisfied with my purchase. I inserted the disc into my car radio and immediately tuned in. I was curious as to what this group sounded like. I knew it was going to be a bit folksy, but the green cover implied a forest-y sort of sound. Something those creatures from The Spiderwick Chronicles would listen to. The opening lyrics to "It Could Have Been A Brilliant Career" hooked me in immediately. I had no clue as to what kind of journey I was in for.
It became a car album. I kind of refused to listen to it outside of my car trips, which were pretty frequent, so I began to associate it with those times. It became the soundtrack to the loneliness and melancholia that accompanied driving alone. The feeling you get when you should be with someone, but you just can't and you have to drive away. That December was a particularly emotional time in my life, for reasons I won't get into, but The Boy With The Arab Strap was my comfort. "Sleep The Clock Around" was the big one for me. It's weird to say, but it feels like me. It feels like the act of observing. More than observing, really, but like extrospection (is that a word?). Knowing how the world works and how you fit into it. Attempting to alleviate the uncertainties that accompany adolescence. I find the tune particularly comforting for that reason. The tracks all flow together nicely, carrying a consistent sound throughout. This was a bit unhelpful, considering I was listening on a car radio and had no idea what the songs were called until months later. Sonically, I'd say the album is like if the Smiths weren't so flamboyant. Like if the Smiths went twee. I nearly called the group "a less grandiose Smiths," but I don't believe this to be quite true. Listen to a track like "Dirty Dream Number Two" and you'll understand. The entire album, though, is incredibly lush with its abundance of strings and organs, along with many other instruments I don't know the names of. The album truly builds a unique atmosphere, balancing both spaciness and extravagance. It's very similar to records like The Moon & Antarctica in that way, giving a sense of loneliness while maintaining a very luxurious soundscape. Maybe that's why I gravitate toward it so much. It speaks to a feeling that can only be felt on gloomy winter days when everything feels wrong. When you feel too tender to do much of anything but walk.
The Boy With The Arab Strap is probably one of the most beautiful and soft records I've ever had the chance to listen to. It moves gracefully and with a smoothness unlike anything else. Perfect for those cloudy winter days. Give it a listen.
Selected Listening:
P.S. I write reviews on Rate Your Music. They're not great, but if you enjoy my writing at all and want to keep up when I'm going through breaks on this blog, you should definitely check it out
here! I'm glad I finally got around to releasing another long-form post, and I hope to resume posting often. Again, tons of posts are in the vault, I've just got to finish them up. Thanks so much!!