It Was Meant for the Screen
Having made a career out of lyrical character-sketches and musical whimsy, Belle and Sebastian's whip-smart frontman Stuart Murdoch figured he could dare step beyond the confines of the pop-song. So, as many before him have, Murdoch set about writing a screenplay. But, rather than some tale of Glaswegian grime cut from a Ken Loach cloth, Murdoch decided to pen a story in the only way he knows how: as a musical.
Thus far, the screenplay isn't actually finished, let alone the film moving into production. But its soundtrack exists already; Murdoch figuring the tunes from his musical were good enough to stand on their own two feet. And, as we hear on God Help the Girl, they are. Essentially the debut self-titled record from Murdoch's new 'project,' the in-advance soundtrack (to the film that may never be made) shares the gift of gab the songsmith brings to his rock'n'roll day-job: sharp lyrics, colorful melodies, sadness and joyness coexisting in toe-tapping song.
The big difference is the vocals. With the album's songs almost entirely sung in character, Murdoch has recruited a posse of guest vocalists —Catherine Ireton of the Go Away Birds, Neil Hannon of the Divine Comedy, Asya from Smoosh, and 'contest winners' Brittany Stallings and Dina Bankole— to bring them to life. This distances God Help the Girl from Belle and Sebastian more than you'd imagine. Sure, Murdoch has written all the songs, and even sings a couple of them, but without his gentle, tender voice as recurring constant, it feels very little like a B&S LP.
Song-and-Dance Man
Which is, in many ways, its curse. The first non-Belle-and-Sebastian work of Murdoch's career, God Help the Girl comes loaded with expectations; his day-job rockband one of the most amazing, acclaimed, and utterly adored outfits of the past 20 years. To, then, compare it to, say, If You're Feeling Sinister, is a veritable death-sentence; never giving the disc a chance for a life of its own.
On its own, God Help the Girl feels a little cutesy; a gaggle of gals trussed up in Petula Clark orchestrations, pirouetting through the string-swept fantasias of carefully-choreographed song-and-dance numbers. There's a persistent feeling, when listening to it, that Murdoch is trying to make the songs sound musical; embracing the mores of showtunes as a way of showing his earnestness for the project. A song like "Hiding 'neath My Umbrella," in which Murdoch himself duets with Ireton through poncy piano-bar chords, almost apologizes as it goes; Ireton singing "life could be musical comedy/prop-like street lighting awaiting your swing," in a couplet that suggests God Help the Girl, the screenplay, could be loaded with self-reflexivity.
In his impossibly-impressive discography, Murdoch has managed to balance those competing elements —self-aware sarcasm, genuine emotion— beautifully. Here, it seems less convincing; the artifice of writing-for-a-musical tilting things, constantly, towards an unexpected self-consciousness. Which, like self-reflexivity as device, reminds you only of the contrivance inherent in every note.
Record Label: Matador
Release Date: 23 June 2009
