Yours wistfully, Camera Obscura

(Credit: Donald Milne)

The Scottish band Camera Obscura comes out of a fertile Glasgow music scene that’s also produced, over the years, the Jesus and Mary Chain, Teenage Fanclub, Franz Ferdinand, and a band to whom they’re frequently compared, Belle and Sebastian—B&S frontman Stuart Murdoch was an early advocate of Camera Obscura’s bittersweet, melodic sound. They are, of course, more complicated than that, with roots in rockabilly and country music, which became clear on 2006’s “Let’s Get Out of This Country.”

Though they began playing together in the ‘90s, it wasn’t until the band’s second album, “Underachievers Please Try Harder,” was released in America in 2004 that we heard much of them here. That album’s first song, “Suspended From Class,” summed up their resigned, Morrissey-like credo over shimmering guitars: “I could go out dancing/But in truth it’s the last thing on my mind.”

Like “Country,” the band’s latest album, “My Maudlin Career,” was produced by Jari Haapalainen, a Swedish musician who has also worked with the Concretes; the strings were arranged by Björn Yttling of Peter Bjorn and John.

We spoke to lead singer Tracyanne Campbell, who possesses an aching, bell-like voice and poignant delivery, from her home in Glasgow a few days before the band left for its American tour.

Your songs seem to be sad or at least wistful, most of the time. How conscious is that?
I don’t really make the choice to write in a particular way—I tend to express myself the way it comes out; it comes out very naturally. I think I’ve always been a bit melancholy. It’s something I’ve always fought against—there can be something really dangerous in wallowing around. There’s nothing romantic about it.   
 
Still, so many of the greatest songwriters—whether the Smiths or Richard Thompson—are best when their music is sadly romantic. Do you find yourself responding to that stuff most?
Sure I like the Smiths, and I like Richard Thompson. I like all sorts of music, anything that moves me. I can be moved by Kylie Minogue records. There’s nothing like being moved by a song, whether it makes you sick to your stomach or wonderfully happy.
 
I imagine you bristle at being described as a Scottish pop group in the tradition of Belle and Sebastian and Orange Juice.
It’s bulls---. We’ve just had a whole conversation about the music we’re into, and it’s not all Belle and Sebastian and Orange Juice. It’s Carole King and the Beach Boys. People don’t listen. It’s not really who we are.
 
I think to some Americans, this one included, bands from Glasgow have two things in common: a knack for melody, and intelligence. So when we hear there’s a new band from there it’s kind of like a seal of approval, you know?
If people hear that we’re a band from Glasgow and they want to listen to us, I’m not gonna knock that. I don’t know, it’s a weird one.
 
Scottish accents are difficult for Americans to understand; is it as hard for Scots to understand us?
No, I don’t think so—I think in the U.K. we’re quite good at understanding accents. And I love the fact that we have so many accents here. My accent to you is maybe toned down a bit.
 
Your songs have a lot of polish to them—do they change a lot in the studio or during rehearsal?
I’m quite a lazy person and quite a lazy songwriter. I just spell it out and hope it’s done with. I think we’re pretty good at getting them up and going.
   
Your producer has a strong influence on your sound, then?
He’s got a curious love of the key change. He’ll say, “Just let your hand go to any chord.” And then it will go off in a direction I never would have imagined. I’m the kind of songwriter where it all comes from emotion—I’m not very technically minded. I’m quite content with the sort of innocence of it—but there’s nothing wrong with trying a little harder.
 
Your live show is much more assertive and rockin’ than I’d expect from a band with so many songs about shyness.
I think we’ve gotten more comfortable playing music together. I’m not the most confident person in the world, but I work at it. I’ve learned to assert myself a bit more, because of my love of music. We’re not virtuosos, or showoffs, but we love playing music and we know we have to give the audience a wee bit of something.
 
What would you have done if you hadn’t become a singer in a band?
It was all a bit desperate. I can’t imagine what I would have done. I was so desperate to save myself from being an unhappy person. I had a lot of anxiety. Music sort of saved me from myself. I didn’t feel like I had a lot of options. There’s nothing else. All the eggs were in one basket.