When linking the concept of nostalgia and music, my brain heads straight to one of those 80s music festival, where, tucked away off-the-beaten-track, thousands latch on to their youth by listening to Nik Kershaw perform his greatest hits (if you dare call them that). But as anniversary tours pledge to trapse through deep cuts and fan favourites, this image is evolving. Artists are greeting the past with open arms, breaking down the foundations of their legacy, and taking us on that journey with them. 30 years on from its release, Belle and Sebastian did just that with a celebration of their debut album, Tigermilk.
I can’t quite pin down how or why I first listened to Tigermilk. It was a far cry from anything else I listened to at the time. Worlds away from the sloshy debuts of Arctic Monkeys and The Strokes that I had on repeat. Perhaps that was its appeal. A sense of composure, audially illustrated through what felt like diary entries camouflaged among acoustic guitars, pianos and the odd cello. And in a live setting, this all translates perfectly.
I’ve placed myself three rows from the front, in territory only the most dedicated fans trapse, something which is most evident when the band first meander on stage and throw us straight in with ‘The State I Am In.’ Already crammed and confined to a single spot where I can just about fold my arms, these fans have no mercy. Arms jolt, lyrics are harked with ferocity, and spatial awareness is flung out the window. Is it possible to form a mosh pit at a Belle and Sebastian gig? I thought I was about to see them try. But that’s what’s great about these full album tours. Fans can delve into the music they care so much about, and it’s evident at every given moment.
The stage was crowded as the band (now with additional members) carved Tigermilk into shape, with each member armed to pick at the album’s nuances. The sporadic synths of ‘Electronic Renaissance’, the flowing flute of ‘I Don’t Love Anyone” – it’s all here. And it’s all played out with a charisma that you probably wouldn’t expect from a folk band. Listen to their music and you probably imagine the band to shuffle awkwardly behind the shield of a microphone. But the band truly come alive in play, bouncing off energy built by the crowd. The more we’re enjoying it, the more they are.
As ‘Mary Jo’ closes the album’s playback with a glimpse of melancholy, the band take a brief break, preparing for a second set which acts like a pick ‘n’ mix of their discography. Here, we jump back and forth through decades. Can I compare it to Bill and Ted? Yes – like Bill and Ted but instead of greeting Freud and Napoleon, you meet Stuart Murdoch and Stevie Jackson.
Speaking of, and it feels ridiculous to say this about a man whose been doing the job for 30 years, but Murdoch is a stellar frontman. His unassuming charisma completely shifts the whole dynamic of the music. Between comedic quips, shoddy dance moves and climbing up to the balcony to join the audience, he creates something impossible to ignore. If you’re (somehow) not drawn in by the music, you’re certainly drawn in by the show.
I’ll admit, my expectations weren’t immensely high. I was expecting a nice evening. I like Belle and Sebastian, perhaps in more of a “I’ll chuck it on in the background” sort of way, but I still enjoy their music nonetheless. But tonight I’ve got a newfound appreciation for them. They’re fantastic live and don’t let a second of their show sit dully. Everything from their presence to their interactions made the show. Don’t be fooled by the folk façade, Belle and Sebastian put on quite the show.
