Belle & Sebastian discuss their electronic renaissance

It’s a sunny morning in Glasgow, and almost all of hometown indie icons Belle & Sebastian are present and correct for breakfast. Stuart Murdoch, Sarah Martin, Stevie Jackson, Chris Geddes and Richard Colburn obligingly squeeze themselves around a coffee table as Stuart remarks that, although we’re lacking a bassist – Bobby Kildea – it’s a rarity: “I don’t think we’ve ever sat for an interview when we’ve all been there.”

The honour of this near-full-band interview is largely due to the group’s ninth studio album, Girls In Peacetime Want To Dance. Marked by a decisively disco turn, lengthy, vivacious floor fillers and, according to the band’s press kit, Murdoch’s “most personal” material yet, it’s an unexpected but massively enjoyable record that sees Belle & Sebastian set out a bold mission statement for 2015.

Given their lengthy career since 1996’s Tigermilk, featuring line-up shake-ups and various creative sabbaticals, it would be very easy – and it is very tempting – to try and craft a kind of Where Are They Now retrospective. However, the band are far too excited about the future to be at all nostalgic: the five are boisterous, cackling and correcting answers, voices blending together as they dissect their latest work and merrily take the piss out of each other.

A December interview with The Quietus positioned the band as having become a completely different entity, especially after the five-year gap since last album Belle and Sebastian Write About Love. Do they really feel changed? The question results in a barrage of disparate answers: a resounding yes from Sarah, a fifty-fifty from Richard, a tentative yes from Chris. “Essentially, it is the same noise.” Richard elaborates, “It’s the same chemistry that we’ve had from the word go. It doesn’t take long to get back to that point, if you haven’t played for four years or four minutes.”

Stuart volunteers, drily, “We usually learn what kind of band we are when we read about it.” The table erupts with laughter. “No, no… I don’t mean to be… I don’t even read about us that often, but when I do, I’m like “Oh, alright, we’re that now.” Because we get in the room and we’re all different people, so every time it’s a different salad; you end up with a different sort of mixture, a different taste. The worst thing you can do is to sit there and decide to be something.”

"A song could go in any direction; it could become church music, it could become reggae, believe me – we can do these things” – Stuart Murdoch

Stevie explains that, while doing press for Girls In Peacetime, he “kept getting asked the same question all the time” – to discover, after interrogating “the poor girl from Belgium,” that it was based upon material within their latest press release. Have they not seen it then? There’s a resounding no, and Stevie, speculating, concludes that “I guess we’ve got a press agent now who tells people who we are?”

Stuart pauses. “Hey, wait, Bob Stanley wrote our press release. From the band St Etienne?”

“Well,” says Stevie, sternly. “He called this album ‘the most personal yet.’”

“If I were doing your job,” says Stuart, gesturing to The Skinny, “I don’t even know if I’d read it. It’s nice that you actually bothered, you’re trying to get informed…”

“But you were complaining about it yesterday!” interrupts Stevie.

“Yes, well... no… I’m just saying it’s good that you’ve read it. If I were you, I’d ignore it and just say, ‘well, what’s your favourite colour?’”

Wait, so now is not the time that Stuart’s decided to release his most personal material ever? “Oh no, that’s bullshit. Of course that’s bullshit. I can tell you this because you’re not The Guardian, or Rolling Stone magazine – and I don’t mean that condescendingly, I mean that the other way. The press love big concepts, big conceits, they like to make up the story themselves. But I must have said that to Bob? You know, don’t believe anything I say, it changes from moment to moment. On a whim.”

Onwards to Girls In Peacetime. As far as ninth albums go, this one feels almost like a debut. Or, at the very least, a definite, marked turning point. Deciding that it’s as “out-there” as Belle and Sebastian are ever likely to go, the record has a discernible house influence (especially on lead single The Party Line) and a driving, propulsive beat that might come as a shock for long-serving fans of The Boy With The Arab Strap.

“I said it for a joke,” says Stevie. “Like, let's do a disco album. But it was just in the air, I think we all felt it.”

“There was definitely something in the water,” says Stuart. “Because a song could go in any direction; it could become church music, it could become reggae, believe me, we can do these things. You have to find, you have to feel what the right thing for a song is. If you listen to Play for Today, or even Nobody’s Empire, it’s based on that kick drum – and what the bass is doing. That’s what’s making it move.”

Although drawn up by classic Belle & Sebastian measurements, Girls In Peacetime carries a decisive identity. These songs (with perhaps one exception) wouldn’t really fit anywhere else in their catalogue – there’s a definite sense of change: it’s the album the band have been on the brink of making for quite some time. Chris explains, “I mean, you don’t want to say that this is a line in the sand… but you do hope that there’s going to be something about it that you couldn’t have done in 2001.”

Stevie nods, “I think it is one of our best. Genuinely. I love hearing something I’ve done, like, what is that? I’ve not had that since our first album. That surprise, that magic, I’m getting a real kick out of it.”

The album was recorded in Atlanta with famed producer Ben Allen (who counts Animal Collective, Deerhunter and Gnarls Barkley on his CV), and the process was a notable departure from the band’s usual methods. “Ben could really handle this material,” explains Stuart. “There was a real strain when we made this record, between the songwriter and the producer… because believe me, I was straining.”

The rest of the band agree, somewhat diplomatically. Allen works spontaneously, erratic yet decisive, a manner Richard credits to his background in the formidable world of hip-hop production. Sarah describes the process: “He was improvising with us, he turned us into building blocks. It was a little unnerving at first until you realised that when he says he’s got what he needs, he’s got what he needs.” As a writer Stuart found the lack of control difficult, confessing, “you could probably set your watch to the time when I would lose it. Every eight working days I’d just fucking lose it!”

Chris teases, “Yeah, and then you’d turn one monitor down, and everything would be okay.”

The result is an enormous-sounding album, deeply layered and textured with the kind of slowburning treats that unfurl after many listens – and it feels the same way to the band, too. Sarah sighs, “There’s been lots of going through, like, so there are horns in there! Sneaky bastard.” There’s also been a necessary re-learning of the material ahead of their looming worldwide tour: “All songs now come in infographic form,” says Chris, showing off photos of detailed step-by-step grids made from highlighter and biro, creating a player’s guide to each of the songs.

One date in particular stands out on Belle & Sebastian’s tour schedule: in May, the band will play their biggest indoor show to date at Glasgow’s Hydro, supported by the Scottish Festival Orchestra. It’s a monumental undertaking, and one that’s already been causing a few sleepless nights. “Ah. I had a Hydro dream last night.” says Stuart, “It was disastrous. Instead of there being a lot of people, it was like being at an Ayr United away game.” Cue laughter. “I know it sounds corny, but… it’s huge. Fucking huge. We’re not in the Halt Bar any more, this is the big time.”

Balancing the expectations of such a dedicated army of fans sounds a stressful task, but Chris disagrees. “I think we’re lucky in that we have an audience that puts up with us.”

“Yeah, we’ve got some hardcore bigots, people that…” Stuart is interrupted as the table explodes with laughter. “Murdoch calls his fans bigots?” “It’s his Gordon Brown moment!” “No, people should learn the meaning of the word,” scolds Stuart. “People who are bigoted towards the band. You know, in a good way. People who are for the band. And that’s a great thing.”

It’s true. Since 1996, this very special six-piece has amassed a wildly dedicated following, toured laps round the globe, and been affectionately labelled “twee” more times than Chris could possibly set down in an infographic. And, better still, they have a hundred and one ideas yet to explore. Stevie reflects, “When we started, we were almost an anti-band… a band that didn’t do things that other bands did, like play gigs or… We kind of started backwards and it certainly took us a long time to become a band. We were rehearsing the other day, and I… I had this existential moment.” Sarah jumps in, teasing, “Was it an epiphany?!” Unruffled, Stevie continues, “I was just like… I can’t believe I’m here, this is amazing.” There’s a slight pause, before Sarah finishes, “Ooooh, I’m in my forties, I’m playing a keytar!”