I spent the first few years of the new millennium living in the Hyndland area of Glasgow, a few streets from the church where Stewart Murdoch of Belle and Sebastian used to janitor and still occasionally sings in the choir. This didn’t really excite me all that much, as I never really dug Belle and Sebastian’s rather fay indie sound, which simply struck me as being rather, well, wet.
Murdoch explains the origins of this project, which began during the recording of ‘Dear Catastrophe Waitress’ in 2004, stem from a song that began to evolve in his head that ‘wasn’t a Belle and Sebastian song.’ So how different from his day job is God Help the Girl?
Well, it might just be different enough, despite featuring the other members of Belle and Sebastian. After all, there’s also a 45-piece orchestra, conducted by Rick Wentworth, who composed the soundtrack to ‘Withnail and I.’
The album opens with a sonically simple ditty with a hint of the musical and the cabaret in the shape of ‘Act of the Apostle.’ The title track features some luscious string arrangements and some jaunty piano. ‘A Unified Theory’ sees the band switch into a jazzy mode, the fade-out almost a re-interpretation of ‘Take Five.’
There’s a hint of melancholy to ‘Hiding Neath My Umbrella,’ that runs subtly as a vaguest of vague undercurrents through much of the album – but it’s the kind of melancholy that comes through carefully crafted yet simple pop songs. And I suppose this is the appeal of God Help the Girl, and, similarly, Belle and Sebastian. There’s no question that there’s a classic pop feel to the songs, which are gentle and undemanding.
It’s interesting to note that the track listing is split, suggesting the days of side one and side two on a vinyl LP, and such attention to nostalgic detail is another overarching attribute of ‘God Help the Girl.’ It contains 14 tracks, which is a lot for an album (unless it’s punk) these days, but it’s not a long album. Instead, the tracks are comparatively short, harking back to the 60s and the days of the two-and-a-half-minute pop song – a feature of the Smiths output, although largely confined to the singles and their B-sides rather than accounting for the contents of the albums.
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On the subject of singles, the album’s lead single, ‘Come Monday Night’ appears as track 10 (or side 2, track 3, depending), and is clearly a standout number, with its change of tempo and wistful musing.
But the dual vocals are a little twee, and become a little nauseating in places: you begin to envisage Murdoch and his succession of co-singers, Caterine Ireton and Asya of Smoosh (but perhaps not Neil Hannon of the Divine Comedy who also guests on here... well, perhaps even Neil Hannon, actually. There’s definitely a discernible influence here. Then again, I’ve never really got on with The Divine Comedy, either. I guess that ‘clever’ pop with big orchestration just doesn’t do it for me), looking into one another’s eyes as they deliver their lines.
But I suppose whether I like it or not isn't entirely the issue. It is what it is, and it does what it does. As a piece of light, (occasionally over-)sweet classic sweeping orchestral pop, it's a most accomplished and accessible album, brimming with touching vignettes delivered via an abundance of tuneful melodies.
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