Belle & Sebastian may seem unlikely candidates for a review on Head Heritage. They have a reputation for tweeness at odds with the music of the heavier variety usually recommended on these pages. But Stuart Murdoch was a teenage hard rock fan, a taste that has only recently been hinted at in his own music, and he could probably pen a very useful guide to Deep Purple if he so wished. In many ways Belle & Sebastian were most interesting in the early part of their career; a time when they stuck fervently to an ideology which broke all the rules of how a band is supposed to make themselves available to the media. They rarely appeared in their own publicity photographs (and if they did there tended to be an element of disguise), they kept the press at arm’s length (causing a certain amount of resentment in the process) and never released any singles off their albums. In fact they started off with two LPs that gained substantial radio play purely on the merits of individual album tracks, different DJs favouring their own particular choices. Singles, when they eventually came, were standalone EPs rather than promotional tools. But things started to go wrong. Their fourth album took as long to make as their first 3 LPs and 4 EPs together. And when it finally appeared, even many of their most ardent fans rated 'Fold Your Hands, You Walk Like A Peasant' as disappointingly lightweight. It was almost as if Belle & Sebastian were following a pattern set by The Doors - two undisputed classics, followed by a patchier third album and a downright weak fourth album. But I've always rated 'The Soft Parade' as one of the most enjoyable Doors albums, and in the same way I've always had a soft spot for 'Fold Your Hands...'

From the intriguing title (either taken, like many B&S titles, from a graffiti slogan or a quote from John Whiting’s play ‘The Devils’, depending on which source you believe) to the optical illusion cover (twin sisters Gyða and Kristín Anna Valtýsdóttir from the Icelandic experimental group múm creating the illusion of a girl's reflection scowling back at her) to the incisive baroque arrangements given to even the most throwaway songs, it is an album that manages to be greater than the sum of its parts. In fact it is probably the B&S album I play the most, as taken as a whole it never fails to instil a sense of warmth and calmness. Given these qualities it is all the more surprising to learn that the album's lengthy gestation was due to the band having lost their ability to work as a cohesive unit. Stuart David departed after the initial two week recording deadline failed to produce anything usable, and Isobel Campbell, distracted by her Gentle Waves side project, contributed only fitfully. The album was only completed after being fussed over during numerous late nights in the studio which pushed the recording way over budget. Given its tortuous creation it is surprising that the end result sounds so effortless and that about half the songs are relatively sparse in their arrangements.

Opening song ‘I Fought In A War’ repeats the formula of the previous 3 albums, Stuart Murdoch singing the opening lines to the quietest possible acoustic accompaniment, before other instruments are gradually added to the mix. It is a genuine B&S classic, and possibly set the bar too high for many of the songs to follow, but it is hard to imagine a better way to start the album. There have been many songs written from the point of view of a young man’s thoughts as he stands on a battlefield, but Murdoch’s brittle vocal invests the subject with great potency and the beautifully arranged strings, trumpet, harpsichord and guitar all add to the emotional impact without swamping the melody. Even the little drumbeats suggesting gunfire manage to avoid sounding corny. Next song ‘The Model’ was apparently a difficult one to nail, and the band was only really happy with subsequent live versions, but it is a prime example of Murdoch’s ability to write melodies and words that sound as if they are emerging fully formed in a perfect stream of conscious as he sings them. Harpsichord, strings and mellotron flute all add sweetness to a delightful tune with lyrics full of customary cheek and wit. It is track three where for many people the album begins to go awry. A common complaint about previous album ‘The Boy With The Arab Strap’ was that, in an act of misguided diplomacy, Stuart Murdoch had allowed lesser songs by other band members to sit alongside his peerless compositions. ‘Beyond The Sunrise’ is a duet written by Isobel Campbell and sung by her and guitarist Stevie Jackson as an obvious homage to Lee Hazlewood and Nancy Sinatra (a precursor to her albums with Mark Lanegan). I’ve never been much of a fan of Campbell and her wispy voice, but this track wins me over with its very oddness. It is very slow and so sparsely arranged that the squeak of the chord changes on the acoustic guitar become the loudest part of the mix. Backwards guitar, mellotron and a chiming bell add a subtly psychedelic quality. Similarly titled ‘Waiting For The Moon To Rise’ provides violinist Sarah Martin with her first songwriting contribution and lead vocal on a B&S record, but it fits in well with the general tone of the album, working along similarly long flowing melody lines to ‘The Model’ and kicking off with more mellotron flutes. Her voice is also of the soft and wispy variety, but compared to Isobel Campbell she sounds like Shirley Bassey. Stuart Murdoch chimes in with some nice lines of counter melody and there is more of the baroque harpsichord and cello that permeates the album. Side one closes with ‘Don’t Leave The Light On Baby’, the album’s slow burner. It sounds drab and unremarkable on first listen, but eventually reveals its strengths as a brooding mood piece, with soulful electric piano and strings and well-placed organ chords. The opening line ‘It’s been a bloody stupid day’ could refer to the bad vibes which blighted the early stages of the recording.

Side two opens with ‘The Wrong Girl’, a Stevie Jackson composition that had been around for a few years and would have been familiar to the group's more ardent followers. It’s a goodish song given a stomping arrangement which feels a little overdone. ‘The Chalet Lines’ is quite the opposite. A Stuart Murdoch composition sung from the point of view of a girl who has been raped at a holiday camp, it makes for uncomfortable listening, and rightly so, especially as there is little more to it than his voice and a muted piano. By way of light relief it is followed by ‘Nice Day For A Sulk’, a real throwaway with lyrics that are of little consequence (‘Nice day for a jam/The Fall, Manfred Mann’) and are all the more likable for it. ‘Woman’s Realm’ is an upbeat, Northern Soul stomper, slightly marred by a vocal interjection from Campbell, but enhanced by excellent interaction between the guitar, trumpet and strings in the instrumental sections. ‘Family Tree’ is perhaps one throwaway song too many on side two, especially when delivered in Isobel Campbell’s winsome voice, and it has the feeling of being inserted between two very similar songs to keep them apart, but it has its charms. And while ‘There’s Too Much Love’, with its gospelly piano chords and Northern Soul tendencies, is in a very similar vein to ‘Woman’s Realm’, it is a wonderfully upbeat closing song, with prime examples of Stuart Murdoch’s lyrics that appeal to the misfit and outsider (‘I feel like dancing on my own/Where no one knows me and where I/Can cause offence just by the way I look’).

It may have been the dissatisfaction with this album from band and fans alike that prompted a change in ethos for Belle & Sebastian. Within a few years they would sign to Rough Trade, hire Trevor Horn as a producer, and start releasing singles off their albums. For many early fans this was selling out of the highest order, but for just as many it restored Belle and Sebastian’s musical credibility after a mid-period wobble, just as ‘Morrison Hotel’ and ‘L.A. Woman’ had done for The Doors. I am under no illusion that making such comparisons will break down the prejudice many music fans display against this most culty of collectives, but if you are among the B&S fans who dismissed this LP on its release, maybe it's time to give it another try.

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