Much ado has been made of Belle & Sebastian’s staunch refusal to acknowledge the past twenty years worth of popular music. Accusations of wallowing in mawkish angst have hounded them from day one and a fierce anti-establishment stance has alienated them from all but the most ardent of fans. Eccentric, awkward and more than a little disaffected, Stuart Murdoch’s Glaswegian troupe are the very epitome of timid, watercolour indie. But that might all be about to change as the band release their eagerly anticipated sixth studio album, ‘Dear Catastrophe Waitress’.

Produced by Trevor Horn, the man responsible for the sound of Sapphic schoolgirl duo t.A.t.U., the album marks a conspicuous departure from the standard B&S template, though this may have more to do with the recent departure of founding member and uber-fey whimsy princess Isobel Campbell than anything Horn might have brought to the party. Luscious orchestral arrangements are combined with campy guitars and glam percussion to make some of the most spectacular pop vignettes of recent memory. Think shaggy-haired lounge boys, go-go dancing to 60’s French cinema soundtracks and Nick Drake ballads.

Opening track and soon to be single, ‘Step Into My Office, Baby’ is sure to win the band a stack of new admirers and some serious radio airplay with it’s super-kitsch melody and infectious innuendo-laden lyrics, while final track ‘Stay Loose’ is memorable if for no other reason than its striking resemblance to an Elvis Costello/David Bowie collaboration that never happened – a sneering ‘Space Oddity’ or an androgynous ‘Pump It Up’.

The group’s unabashed fondness for pastiche abounds elsewhere on the album too. ‘If She Wants Me” is Murdoch’s take on the Philadelphia Soul sound, ‘I’m A Cuckoo’ offers a wry nod to Thin Lizzy and ‘You Don’t Send Me’ is pure, unadulterated Donovan. Readers should not however be put off by remarks concerning the remarkable similarity of track eight to a Cliff Richard tune. While it is true that ‘Wrapped Up In Books’ bears an uncanny likeness to the 1966 hit, ‘In The Country’ the track is in fact pure B&S magic - a deliciously nostalgic ditty containing some of their most ambitious rhythm and melody work to date.

Lyrically B&S are more interesting than they’ve ever been, and with strong vocal cameos from Sarah Martin (violin) and Stevie Jackson (guitar) ‘Dear Catastrophe Waitress’ marks an impressive return to form. Their best album since ‘If You’re Feeling Sinister’, it makes me want to dig out my corduroy flares and practice a flute solo. Not buying this album would be a crime against good taste.

words: Shaun Macartney