God Help the Girl

It’s been three years since fans of Belle and Sebastian have had the chance to see Stuart Murdoch on the stage, and this tiny, much-anticipated gig – God Help The Girl’s second ever (the first being the night before in Holland) - is buzzing with excited twenty- and thirty-somethings. (One of them is 28 Days Later and Batman Begins star Cillian Murphy, who enthusiastically joined in with the handclap parts and looked as psyched as everyone else.)

But, as you’ll know if you’re even vaguely aware of this eccentric pop project, the B&S singer doesn’t take centre stage. God Help The Girl’s one album, penned as the soundtrack to a film that’s still in pre-production, uses a rotating line-up of singers including Neil Hannon and Smoosh’s Asya, as well as Catherine Ireton, Celia Garcia and Alex Klobouk, the three women with devastating smiles and shiny brunette hair who handle vocal duties tonight – while Murdoch himself writes, and then confines himself mostly to the piano and guitar.

Everyone’s palpably nervous and while the music – close harmonies, Motown swells, and a bookish tendency to rhyme words like “incarceration”, “emancipation” and “elucidation” – is as perfectly polished as the singers, the inter-song banter is awkward. No-one quite sure if it’s Murdoch or “the girls” who should be thanking the crowd and explaining the songs, so sometimes interrupt each other and ramble a bit. At one point, Murdoch comes across all Peter Stringfellow:

“Can you see the girls?”

(Cheer.)

“Okay, you got your money’s worth then.”

(Embarrassed pause.)

“Is that sexist?

(Another one.)

There’s nothing wrong with being sexy.”

(Group cringe.)

The songs have the same wry narrative drive as the best Belle and Sebastian tracks, documenting the details of a woman’s life: obsessing over a boy while washing up, having a bad hair day (in Perfection as a Hipster: the one song which Murdoch himself sings, filling in for Hannon), dancing with friends at a club. “The girls” act out the emotions as they sing, running a hand through their hair, grinning at the jokey lines, and doing a few synchronised dance moves, Pipettes-style. It’s cute, and the songs are pretty, but the kitsch nature of it all creates a certain amount of distance, which might be exacerbated by the nerves.

If Murdoch’s track record is anything to go by, it could be a while before we get to see God Help The Girl again, and when we do there might be a warmer, more spontaneous feel. But on the basis of this gig, I’m predicting the film will be positively dreamy.