These are the days when pregnant celebrities sell foetus photographs to weekly magazines, and the bereaved of the famous have no compunction about fitting a P.A. in around the funeral of a parent.
Ten years on, and the only bum note in The Truman Show sounds when Jim Carrey tries to escape the omnipresent eye of the camera. In the Noughties they’d need a muscle squad to drag him away.
Belle and Sebastian may have a Brit Award in the bathroom, the soundtrack of a Hollywood film on their CV, and four widely admired albums to wave at their detractors, but good luck to anyone asked to describe one of their members to a police artist.
In these days of psychotic narcissism, coyness has served them very well indeed.
By dint of having signed to a bigger label than Jeepster (the corporate monolith that is, um, Rough Trade) and roping in Trevor Horn to produce, the band’s last record, Dear Catastrophe Waitress, was heralded as some kind of attempt to breach the mainstream. It wasn’t, of course. With its concern for life’s wallflowers and marginalia, the album was very much of a piece with their earlier work. Where it differed, however, was in the modern sheen of much of the recording.
The Life Pursuit carries on along this path. The much-mocked recorder solos and wispy female vocals of days gone by are entirely absent now. This is a lean and mean Belle and Sebastian (or as mean as any band who call a song ‘For The Price Of A Cup of Tea’ can ever be), and also a surprisingly groovy one. If the touching, organic otherworldliness of ‘Tigermilk’ is nowhere to be found, the gorgeous blue-eyed soul of ‘Song For Sunshine’ more than compensates. During ‘The Blues Are Still Blue’, ‘White Collar Boy’ and ‘Funny Little Frog’, they also show they’ve mastered the knack of mod-tastic, Gainsbourg-flavoured pop.
If you’re worried that their concern for the underdog has vanished, a cursory listen to the beautiful ‘Dress Up In You’ will set your mind at ease.
So, another fine record for Britain’s most dignified band. And another blow struck on behalf of the almost famous.