Decided to put this on in the background this morning, after seeing it tacked on to the bottom of a funny, throwaway news item on pitchfork.
Belle and Sebastian are a funny thing for me. I always forget how much I love them, forget how wry the lyrics are, how moving the movements are. Strings, horns. Always lush or spare, or lush in its sparseness. It reminds me of a girl (whaterindid) in college, always, who was a big fan of theirs, and dressed up as Lazy Painter Jane for Halloween, once, I think? before I knew what it was. I’d heard the song but not yet known the title of it, one of those familiar things you take for granted but don’t feel the need to know beyond its shadow.
I started listening to them a lot, sometime, I think when I heard about the band Arab Strap, and how that band had been responsible for the change of the name of The Boy With The Arab Strap, I think. (That could be a false, idealistic memory.) It was, I’m sure of it, right around the same time I’d been inundating myself with Nick Drake, probably right when Pink Moon was reissued. (I usually have these repeat thoughts, when listening to B&S, of how the soft production kills the impact of the strings, and stops them from being as powerful as they could be. But, then again, Stuart Murdoch was never trying to be Chris Martin.)
The documentary is so-so, interesting mainly to those already invested in the band, and those who maybe are too interested in the nothing details of artistic endeavors. The thing I took away from it is a desire for the community of a band, the realization that the camaraderie of creating something is more important to me than I’d like to admit. This is in line with one of the messages of austinkleon's new book, which suggests that all artists find a scene, for lack of a better term, to implant themselves into, maybe both for obligation and motivation. (Funny, for me, obligation and motivation are often the very same thing.) So, that's important, for this morning. For the next three hours. To have recaptured some semblance of a goal for myself, creatively. Maybe, too, to think of myself as “creative” without feeling fraudulent.
Also, become less dependent on spellcheck.