Late Developers – Belle and Sebastian (2023)

On “Do You Follow,” Sarah Martin repeats, almost like a nursery rhyme:

I’ve got a song to sing, I’ve got words I can borrow
It really doesn’t matter if it’s raining tomorrow
I’ve got a song to sing, I’ve got pain, I’ve got sorrow
It really doesn’t matter what I say, do you follow?

It reads like a statement of purpose for Belle and Sebastian’s latest album, full of songs that showcases the band’s pop sensibilities almost to a fault. The band has songs to sing and earworms that will undeniably stick in your head, even if there is little purpose, meaning, or emotion to pair with these catchy tunes. Their lyrics often lack the childish simplicity that the label “twee pop” implies, which can lead to often jarring and occasionally moving moments of revelation in songs like “Will I Tell You A Secret” or the title track, which respectively contain a heartfelt reflection on a miscarriage and an almost nihilistic description of a threatening world over delightful baroque pop melodies and David Byrne-esque horns. At other times, the whole project can feel like a contrived hodgepodge of pop songwriting elements assembled without a larger sense of personal investment, such as on the otherwise compelling “When The Cynics Stare Back From The Wall,” in which the distance between Stuart Murdoch and Martin’s vocals feels less like the “Don’t You Want Me” dueling perspectives they were clearly going for. Instead, it feels more like two completely different songs performed in entirely separate rooms that someone seemed to think would work well together for some unapparent reason.

Late Developers isn’t without diamonds in the rough to discover, though. “When We Were Very Young” steals the show in how it stockpiles its mournful nostalgia into a truly resonant sense of foreboding as the final chord of its chorus plays, accentuating the regret and emptiness felt by Murdoch as he laments an inability to feel satisfied with “daily chores,” “daily worship of the sublime,” and everything in between. In the best ways, it is reminiscent of Pet Shop Boys’ “It’s a Sin” – an association that is miraculously not soured by the vacuous synthpop lead single “I Don’t Know What You See In Me,” which sticks out like a sore thumb with its nauseating Eurovision synthesizers and vapid post-chorus la-dee-dees that are all approximately one decade past their expiration date on arrival. There are as many alluring melodies as there are wasted opportunities to employ their full emotional potential, mostly due to a lack of something meaningful to say or the motivation to act like there is at least some sense of care for what is being said. The depth of influences – late 1960s Kinks, Syd Barrett, T. Rex – fails to extend beyond choices of sonic palate. It does not matter if “you follow” or not; the premise itself is flawed.

★★½