If You’re Feeling Sinister does that rarest of things, it takes you to a place and time without any hint of leading you there.  In this case that place is mid-90’s Glasgow, and more specifically, the brain of Stuart Murdoch trying to make sense of life in mid 90’s Glasgow.  The record oozes the kind gloomy optimism that only blooms in dreary northern climes.  No instrument is played too freely, no vocal is given full throat, and there is a level of organic detail in this record that could only come from rainy afternoons where time stretches on forever and ever.

We all have a side of ourselves that is weirdly dopey.  This is the aspect of our character that sings in the shower, that dances in an empty house, that imagines marrying people we only just met.  Personally, I like to look at myself in the reflection of teapots so that my mouth is huge and ask in a giant’s voice, “Where’s juuuunior?”  I’ve never told anyone that before, and it wasn’t easy to come out with it either.

But Stuart Murdoch opens the doors to his interior life with such unabashed honesty that it’s impossible not be won over just by the fact that we were invited.  This record is packed with what feels like inside jokes. It’s only after a few listens that you realize these are Murdoch’s inside jokes with himself, and  we are just dipping a toe in his stream of consciousness.

Like most young people, this stream consists of snippets of conversation, dreams, frustrated sexuality, thoughts of friends, and projections of people passed on the street.  There are also just those random thoughts, like “Fox in the snow, where do you go to find something you can eat?”  What makes this album special is the unfiltered nature of the lyrics.  It’s something akin to the guilty pleasure of reading someone else’s diary.

The fact that this interior monologue unspools on top of perfect melody after perfect melody, for 10 straight tracks is awe-inspiring.  Belle and Sebastian are famous for being a “big” band with constantly rotating members, but at the heart of this record and it’s predecessor Tigermilk is the original core of Murdoch on vocals and guitar, Stuart David on Bass, Isobel Campbell on cello, Chris Geddes on keyboards and piano, and Richard Colburn on drums.  

This was essentially a group of Murdoch’s acquaintances that got together to make music just because.  For the full story of the creation of Belle and Sebastian, click here)  The tension of the band members not being “best mates” works marvellously.  Each musician is great at what they do, but is careful not to step on their companion’s notes or vocals.  There is an air of awkward politeness to Belle and Sebastian’s early work, and not unlike overhearing a couple’s first date in the booth next to you, it is quietly thrilling.

Guitar, piano, cello, and violin solos come and go, the drums pick up now and then, but everything is delivered with a hint of restraint.  The band clearly respects Murdoch and is working to deliver his vision, not what they think his vision should be.  The music is layered but not heavy, and one can always feel the empty space of a small studio underneath the chords.

Murdoch himself has lamented the audio quality of If You’re Feeling Sinister, going so far to release a live recording of the entire record on Itunes (If You’re Feeling Sinister - Live at the Barbican) in an effort to provide fans with a higher-def version.  This is unnecessary.  If You’re Feeling Sinister would only be half of it’s glory without the missed notes, the way Murdoch’s harmony lines don’t match the lyrics at points, and the lightness of friends playing music they don’t think anyone would actually pay for.  Every track is as honest and real as music can be. Push play and don’t think about it again, this is truly a LongPlayingMaxiGroove record. d(-_-)b

Patrick Reynolds