Belle & Sebastian

Live on PBS-TV

What a bizarre introduction to America, to play in a slick New York TV studio with an overly peppy, khakied host. I can't think of a band less tough, less hip and therefore less suited for it.

Belle and Sebastian, recently arrived from Scotland, step gingerly into the circular recess of the Sony studio and successfully skirt eye contact with an audience only two yards of bright light away. Such is the beginning of the band's first-ever live performance in the U.S., a taping of PBS's "Session's at 54th St."

At another venue, there would have been some privacy created by smoke, noise, darkness and drunkenness, but here cone can't help but feel like an intruder. The thick discomfort in this room is largely due to the embarrassment at our own audacity as we eye so closely (in mid-day no less!) this mysterious band before they even have a chance to pick up their instruments. This studio audience (go ahead and let that phrase conjure what it will), full of guilt and pity, finds itself frozen stiff by the awkwardness of the band as they quietly tune instruments or fidget.

Feelings of guilt, however, disappear as the first song begins. And is quite plainly impossible to feel pity for anyone so talented. Tension is transformed. We are all still locked into place but discomfort has twisted itself into some general feeling of absolute awe; a collective rapture.

For there is no more beautifully delicate pop music being made today than Belle & Sebastian's. There is no hiding to be done by any of these players, the music is too clear for that. After certain songs, instruments are switched between members in humble handoffs; confidence in playing, at least, reigns.

Restraint in this seven-piece band seems to come simply from sheer respect for the songs. Tales of school, of pity, suggestions of expected disappointment, the absence of revenge, these are subjects that certainly require restraint. If the music were heavier, if it were less tender, the precariously-placed lyrics would be toppled. Instead they are floated-- over waves of sparse interwoven guitar, stylophone, drums, bass, violin, piano, harmonica. The tense co-existence of optimism and tragedy, gentleness alongside sarcasm, would collapse.

Matter-of-factly dismal lyrics like "Hilliary went to her death because she couldn't think of anything to say / She was into S&M and bible studies / Not everyone's cup of tea she would admit to me" skip along at a lighthearted pop pace, and this is at the core of the band's brilliance, especially live.

This contrast whips up tension. It makes us aware of some aching brilliance at work, and it causes this entire studio to ache right along with it.

----Rebecca White