BELLE AND SEBASTIAN and BADLY DRAWN BOY
Enmore Theatre, August 22
Et bonsoir from two acts who might be called the eternal anti-Brexiteers, denizens of a particular branch of British pop that is most comfortable in continental mode, glorying in – to borrow from a Belle And Sebastian song not played tonight – le pastie de la bourgeoisie.
This branch are sometimes acoustic, but never boorish, sometimes vulnerable, but always willing to explain (even if not necessarily successfully), sometimes topical but always drawing on the past as if it was just yesterday. And eschewing perfection, seeing it as a false god.
Badly Drawn Boy, Manchester’s Damon Gough, leans into the hushed men/Francoise Hardy school of murmured regrets and autumnal tones, though Once Around The Block reached for bachelor pad buoyancy. Meanwhile, Glasgow’s Belle And Sebastian are more inclined to mix that patina of melancholy with ye-ye’s springtime bounce, even if the fragment of The Fox In The Snow in the encore, laid lamentations.
For Gough it was initially tristesse due to sound problems which may have brought twitches to those who remember a previous Sydney show that was dogged and scarred by his unhappiness with the sound. But thankfully his bonhomie was retrieved, and dry humour (explaining he was only hired for the About A Boy soundtrack because he could write a cheaper version of a Dylan song – which he proved again with A Minor Incident) and casual warmth returned.
Speaking of casual, there is something almost offhand about these songs, as if they are visiting and will be forgotten soon enough as light fare. It is a deception, a McCartney-ish familiarity, as seen in the caressing singalong, Silent Sigh, played on might-as-well-be-pub-piano, which masks songs that lodge hard.
No hesitations of any sort for Belle And Sebastian whose opening bracket came with joi de vivre that could fire an opening ceremony, dancing with little hip wiggles and splayed feet, still rhyming Tokyo and Thin Lizzy-O like a gleeful provocation to the grumps.
Still happy too to have cello, violin and trumpet alongside recorder as lead fare, or later offer double melodicas against throbbing bass and a guitar solo leached of macho but not of cocky moves. Still able to bring a blend of Beach Boys, psych pop and zipping around the playground vim in So In The Moment. Still able to follow it with a fey slant on mournful desire that builds to a strangely glowing acceptance in Stars Of Track And Field.
As the funky moves of Talk To Me would confirm, they are miles from the enthusiastic amateurs of their early years who charmed with seemingly no guile, though you can hear echoes of that band in Piazza, New York Catcher, which falls between children’s folk song and naive Simon & Garfunkel, and Seymour Stein’s wonky Velvet Underground romanticism.
But nearly 30 years into what once was thought an unlikely career, they are a smooth entertainment machine. One that knows the corners of their catalogue to pull from for the certain win (the first five to ten years basically are audience gold) while still grabbing from a wide menu. One that understands the value of breaking down a wall and letting the freak flag fly: inviting the audience to the stage for The Boy With The Arab Strap’s flouncing fun, drawing up dorks with grins, the uncool with odd moves, the arhythmic with zeal. You know, exactly like the rest of us, just faster getting a spot.
And one that can the set with a blast of positivism (Another Sunny Day) and then leave us, just short of two hours, with a promise of something brighter still in the bitter-but-drinkable Lazy Line Painter June. “You will have a boy tonight/Maybe you will have a girl tonight/On the last bus out of town”.
A boy and a girl? Ooh, how very European.
Belle And Sebastian play their final shows of this tour at Perth’s Astor Theatre, August 27-28
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A version of this review was originally published in The Sydney Morning Herald
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