Dear Catastrophe Waitress

For a band with such a modest, homespun feel as Scottish cult heroes Belle and Sebastian, the utilization of a big pop producer like Trevor Horn could easily have been a tragic mistake. Instead, it proves to be a stroke of brilliance. Rather than doling out the kind of overblown mountains of sound he's heaped on artists like Seal and Frankie Goes To Hollywood, Horn simply expands the B&S palette in a completely organic, extremely effective manner. The arrangements are more fleshed-out than usual, the textures more varied, and the overall sound a bit more sprightly and sunny. All this is to the good, however, as the band's unerring melodic sensibility and gently quirky lyricism remain joyfully intact. The interaction of Belle and Sebastian's trademark twisted-twee songcraft and the effervescence of Horn's production makes DEAR CATASTROPHE WAITRESS one of the group's most instantly appealing albums.

Just when they seemed sure to fade away into twee-pop irrelevance, this obscure Scottish indie-pop act releases their strongest album in seven years. With lots of help from uber-commercial producer Trevor Horn (ABC, Yes, Pet Shop Boys, t.A.T.u.), singer-songwriter Stuart Murdoch finally gets back to leading his band. It was a nice idea to have everyone else share the vocal spotlight on Fold Your Hands and Storytelling, but wasn't Murdoch's delicate voice so much of what made us all fall in love with the band in the first place? Clearly, Horn understands this, just as he understands that the preciously lo-fi sound had to go. Horn brings every instrument into a crystal-clear, lovingly retro, Top of the Pops clarity. It's their most diverse album by far, from the marching, uptempo(!) drums on "Step Into My Office Baby" (which sounds like Melanie meets Adam and the Ants) to the fractured, New Wave-organ-driven "Stay Loose" (the close as B&S has come to Talking Heads territory). What a nice surprise. --Mike McGonigal