Pitchfork

For a band that, at their top dollar, sounds like Nick Drake collaborating with Van Morrison, Belle & Sebastian have somehow attracted an enormous following in the increasingly uncritical world of independent rock. Much like Mogwai, but to a lesser extent than Oasis, Belle & Sebastian barely modified a pre-existing sound and image, yet managed to inspire focused critical praise.

Lazy Line Painter Jane is a nice bundle of homespun material needlessly packaged as a three-disc box set. The artwork on these records (aside from the title EP) is unremarkable, and the songs aren't varied enough to merit concerns over continuity; unlike most reissue efforts, this collection would actually have benefited from consolidation and redesign as a single disc. Frankly, it's irritating to change discs after every four tracks.

Belle & Sebastian may argue that they're going the purist's route, but with Matador's name on the spine, these singles won't feel like the genuine article to the obsessive record collectors they ostensibly court. Regardless, the set's offered at less than half the cost of buying an import; you'd have to be an ingrate to seriously argue a lack of convenience.

The beauty of Belle & Sebastian's early work is its assurance in the face of anonymity-- there's purity to music made without the assumption of an audience, and when it's as accomplished as this, you can't help but feel those responsible deserve your attention. It's when attention is paid en masse-- when a band succeeds-- that the artist takes on spoken and unspoken accountability. Although success may put them in the position to craft their ideas more succinctly, watching eyes can as often stare a band down as inspire them. Belle & Sebastian's latter-day material is a testament to this conflict.

The Belle & Sebastian collective are at their best when they're being the most derivative (their Smiths-by-way-of-Drake showstopper, "The State I Am In", and the Van Morrison tribute "Photo Jenny"), but it's a shame to see a band receive more acclaim for rehashing their idols than their idols received for inventing the sound. The original article is inherently more valuable-- after all, it allows for the facsimile. And if "A Century of Fakers" serves to acknowledge the baggage of this critical debate, it's a premature but appreciable address.

The 3..6..9 Seconds of Light EP is overtly inspired by Young Marble Giants, and features two of the band's best early songs: "Put the Book on the Shelf" and an unmentioned bonus track which they probably couldn't name, as they'd already used the title "Belle & Sebastian" on their debut. This pair lays the impressionist aesthetic on as heavy as anything the group has put together (outside of the watercolor short stories found in their liner notes).

Lazy Line Painter Jane, when listened to in order, serves as an example of the band in one of their finest hours-- between If You're Feeling Sinister and The Boy with the Arab Strap. The songs are strong enough to rise above 'demo' status, and could easily stand together in a single unit. For whatever reason, they remain isolated, but it's a small thing-- if you get sick of switching discs, make yourself a tape of all three and call it Belle & Sebastian.