Perth Concert Hall, Perth, Australia - 7th June, 2006

Everyone should have a Belle & Sebastian story. Two members of the support band The Bank Holidays met on a plane to Melbourne to watch B&S. Another member, Bekk, acquired a stack of CDs after a gruesome breakup, and fell all the way into If You're Feeling Sinister. My story's not too dramatic. On my maiden tour through the states Mac took me to Pure Pop Records in Burlington, Vermont, his all time favorite record store, to live out a High Fidelity moment by buying "the new Belle & Sebastian". But nevertheless, when you've got a band with this much storytelling verve there's only so much time that can separate you from your own inevitable B&S experience.

Sauntering quietly on, Stuart (Murdoch) announces who they are, and that they might like to play some songs; if that's okay with us. They're certainly breaking new ground in understated charm. Every gig I always line up in my head a song I'd dearly love to hear, but hold no reasonable expectation of actually experiencing. I've had a glittering streak of fortune lately, but never have I had my dream fulfilled on inception, clutching my breath, as the unaccompanied opening of The State I'm in has me suppressing a scream that could split my body neatly down the middle. It's a beguiling stream that meanders, never settling into any recognisable structure, or fixed point of narration; like a journey down some corridor to uncover something you never knew, but was always there. In abundant reverence the audience is hushed, but I can hardly keep my Beatles '64 style urges inside. I'm sure I could uphold full-on excited yipping for the full five minutes, even as I'm frog marched through the exit. But I don't want to spend the next couple of hours in the car park with my ear pressed to the wall, so I endeavor, and maintain my silence.

I could tell you everything that happened after this was an anti-climax and still be satisfied.

And it sort of is. The thorn of having to tour an album that isn't their strongest, is having to play a whole swadge of below par tunes. It's not a wishlist, but smattered in between the new stuff is snippets from all over the last ten years. And not just the obvious ones. Expectations gets an airing, there's plenty from If You're Feeling Sinister, and most alarmingly, a Pet Shop Boys mainlined performance of Electronic Renaissance. In much the same way that the new album gives us Bolan boogie and The Sweet-esque glam pop stomp, they want to show us every style they're capable of. It gets the surreal moment of the evening, if only for some decidedly wonky rug cutting. SM looks like a rag doll being shaken, whilst Stevie Jackson jerks like a cross between Ian Curtis and the Flowerpot Men; elbows tucked firmly into his hips.

Regardless of the testosterone-less 'twee pop' taggery and self-effacing ballads about unrequited love, SM is flexing his front man power with zeal. Clearly hell bent on wooing every female in the audience, and judging by the wails of the two devotchkas behind and to the left of me, he seems to have the opposite sex at his beck and call; pulling volunteers out of the audience to indulge harmless little fantasies such as forming a love triangle between himself and Stevie before whisking her away to the wings. Puppets, that's what we all are. Humph. And it's all underpinned with blithe panache as he fumbles through stories about going to the laundrette and bad jokes about long faces. Talking of Scottish raconteurs, in a standup show of Billy Connellys a friend downloaded for me, BC remarks with some amazement at a blurb for his show wherein it's claimed that he wanders from a topic only to home back to it with lazer-like precision. Bollocks, he tells us. He regularly wanders from a topic only to leave it dead, out in the cold, lost for evermore. SM is cut from the same storytelling mould, drifting down Grandpa Simpson-esque paths to oblivion. He happily receives gifts, commenting "it's like Christmas" as he examines an action figure of himself, admitting that he'll have to do some sit-ups.

Now the Perth Concert Hall is a fairly austere hoighty-toighty kind of swankpot, (note that I say Swank) people stay in their seats, clap, cheer, maybe take photos. They don't, as one malarkey-bound fool does, run down the aisles and start frantically bopping to The Boy with Arab Strap. I would never have picked this as a big dance number, but then another lady in a box seat rises to shake her affluent money-maker. Then, like a sudden efferent rash, the audience rises to its feet in single minded pursuit of the groove. I've done some research on this, well, asked around at least, and this never happens here. It's a joy. The 8 year old girl with whom Wendy spoke to before the start is going for it, (its her first gig - how cool is that, Wendy's first gig was Roxette, mine is, erm, not sure), some sweater wrapped nerds to the right are doing some retro-jive, a couple to the left are feeling it. I attest this is more of a sway from side to side kind of swing as I clap my hands. Whatever. Kudos to the guy who started this chain reaction. SM executes a karate kick midway through The Blues Are Still Blue and the ring of spontaneity is complete.

Just to prove my point about the power of pop stardom, SM raises us all on their final song. It's a fantastic effort, not only because everyone remains up throughout Judy and the Dream of Horses but also the whole intermission. And the encore. It's not even a booming "on your feet Perth" or anything half so crude, it's a "if I believe my prediction will come true, then in one minute and fifteen seconds when James blows his trumpet all of Perth Concert Hall will rise as one". Stalin didn't have this much influence. And there's so many people with so many different callouts, "Rollercoaster Ride", "Storytelling", "Mayfly" (as called out by the 8 year old) - so many moments of pop eureka for B&S to choose from, and so many individual adventures connected to them. It seems they're one of those bands who somehow, somewhere in your life will tell you something personal.

Come back soon so we can tell more stories.

As experienced G.

A note on the support act; the Bank Holidays. "The happiest band in Perth" as Wendy told me following her set with Radarmaker at the Hydie. Listening to them being touted regularly on triple j, I admired how much they'd tidied up since that occasion. As it turns out I think they'd done most of their tidying up in the studio, or maybe they're not 100% tonight. Or maybe it's unsympathetic mixing, who knows? Nonetheless, I'm sure we'll cross paths again.

More props out to Chris, Dave, Leon, Jess (who I didn't really get to talk to but hello), Wendy and Noah. Seeing you all enbiggens my soul.

Setlist:
I didn't recognize every song, but this is the bulk of it.

The State I'm in
Another Sunny Day
Expectations
Funny Little Frog
Like Dylan in the Movies
Electronic Renaisance
Sukie in the Graveyard
Get Me Away From Here I'm Dying
Johnathan David
Dress Me up in Blue
Expectations
The Boy with the Arab Strap
I'm a Cuckoo
The Blues Are Still Blue
If you're Feeling Sinister
Dog on Wheels
Judy and the Dream of Horses
White Collar Boy
Lazy Line Painter Jane