Belle and Sebastian have entered the workmanlike era of their career. They haven't released a truly essential album since 2006's The Life Pursuit, but they haven't gone too far astray either, checking in every few years with a new album and tour just to remind listeners of how much we loved B&S in university.
Less than a year since last spring's A Bit of Previous, the Glasgow band return with an album drawn from the same recording sessions — an impressive creative outpouring for a band more than 25 years into their career.
Like, A Bit of Previous, Late Developers is an inconsistent but largely enjoyable retread of familiar B&S sounds. Violinist Sarah Martin sings lead on the mid-aughts-esque pop rocker "Give a Little Time" and the bass-driven bop "When You're Not with Me," while guitarist Stevie Jackson makes a strong showing with his traditional one-song-per-album contribution, injecting '60s psych pop with giddy energy on "So in the Movement."
Camera Obscura's Tracyanne Campbell brings some vintage Glaswegian twee as she duets with band leader Stuart Murdoch on "When the Cynics Stare Back from the Wall," reminding listeners just how much her band is missed. Murdoch, once a tentative vocalist, shows the impressive highs and lows of his range amidst opulent horns on "The Evening Star." B&S can seemingly pull off this kind of flowery AM pop effortlessly at this point, and it sounds great.
It's mostly a cheery, upbeat listen — although Murdoch still sounds best in melancholy mode, something he proves with on the synth-anchored "We We Were Very Young." Of all the moments of lavish pop on Late Developers, it's this song's existentially searching chorus that cuts deepest: "I wish I could be content with the football scores / I wish I could be content with the daily chores / With my daily worship of the sublime."
B&S only miss when they leave their comfort zone: the Renaissance folk ballad "Will I Tell You a Secret" and Billy Bragg-esque opener "Juliet Naked" are unremarkable beyond their surprising arrangements. And lead single "I Don't Know What You See in Me" is a dismal attempt at plastic pop, its antiseptic Auto-Tune sounding cheap and thin, with a vapid "la-ba-di-la" refrain that evokes the "Numa Numa" meme in the worst way.
It's a sadly predictable complaint coming from a longtime B&S fan: they're at their best when they sound the most like themselves. Thankfully, there's plenty of that to be found on Late Developers — something that makes this album worthy of a few enjoyable listens before I inevitably return to If You're Feeling Sinister.
Less than a year since last spring's A Bit of Previous, the Glasgow band return with an album drawn from the same recording sessions — an impressive creative outpouring for a band more than 25 years into their career.
Like, A Bit of Previous, Late Developers is an inconsistent but largely enjoyable retread of familiar B&S sounds. Violinist Sarah Martin sings lead on the mid-aughts-esque pop rocker "Give a Little Time" and the bass-driven bop "When You're Not with Me," while guitarist Stevie Jackson makes a strong showing with his traditional one-song-per-album contribution, injecting '60s psych pop with giddy energy on "So in the Movement."
Camera Obscura's Tracyanne Campbell brings some vintage Glaswegian twee as she duets with band leader Stuart Murdoch on "When the Cynics Stare Back from the Wall," reminding listeners just how much her band is missed. Murdoch, once a tentative vocalist, shows the impressive highs and lows of his range amidst opulent horns on "The Evening Star." B&S can seemingly pull off this kind of flowery AM pop effortlessly at this point, and it sounds great.
It's mostly a cheery, upbeat listen — although Murdoch still sounds best in melancholy mode, something he proves with on the synth-anchored "We We Were Very Young." Of all the moments of lavish pop on Late Developers, it's this song's existentially searching chorus that cuts deepest: "I wish I could be content with the football scores / I wish I could be content with the daily chores / With my daily worship of the sublime."
B&S only miss when they leave their comfort zone: the Renaissance folk ballad "Will I Tell You a Secret" and Billy Bragg-esque opener "Juliet Naked" are unremarkable beyond their surprising arrangements. And lead single "I Don't Know What You See in Me" is a dismal attempt at plastic pop, its antiseptic Auto-Tune sounding cheap and thin, with a vapid "la-ba-di-la" refrain that evokes the "Numa Numa" meme in the worst way.
It's a sadly predictable complaint coming from a longtime B&S fan: they're at their best when they sound the most like themselves. Thankfully, there's plenty of that to be found on Late Developers — something that makes this album worthy of a few enjoyable listens before I inevitably return to If You're Feeling Sinister.
