Reviews of two new releases   Belle & Sebastian Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like a Peasant Matador/Jeepster Of Related Interest: The Field Mice, The Smiths, fuzzy cardigans   One day, I had an epiphany while listening to the ubiquitous "Kiss Me": Sixpence None the Richer are Belle & Sebastian in Top 40 trappings. All the tweeness and sensitivity is there--backwoods gaiety, childish romance. The theory makes sense, no matter how much it pisses off the indie stalwarts who worship B&S with unflinching loyalty. And on this, their fourth full-length, Scotland's shyest kids take one step closer to Sixpence levels of sellout glory. And none too soon! 1998's The Boy with the Arab Strap saw the band turning into self-parody. Every note seemed designed to further the fey collective's image as the wheat-and-barley kids who found their way into a big, bad studio by sheer accident. Fold Your Hands Child... is more in tune with the tenets of classic pop. All the right influences are in all the right places. "The Model" is "Pictures of Lily" for the sad set, Stuart Murdoch's pain-soaked vocals so soft they're nearly squishy. "Beyond the Sunrise" is pure Nick Drake, from the tear-stained strings to Stevie Jackson's deep, smooth voice. The album's standout tale of a hard day's night, "Don't Leave the Light On Baby," even has a piano line that sounds like slowed-down, Stevie Wonder funk. Still, it's all exquisitely B&S, from the buoyant, misguided love of "The Wrong Girl" to the cute, semi-mocking "Nice Day for a Sulk." Outside of a disturbing song about rape in the last quarter, Fold Your Hands Child... is a flawlessly executed recording of a charming mood, of late nights and early mornings and spending time with yourself. Finally, Belle & Sebastian have ditched their cartoony preciousness for a real stab at timelessness. Jamie S. Rich     Neil Young Silver and Gold Reprise Of Related Interest: Woody Guthrie, John Steinbeck, Nirvana   Silver and Gold is the work of a contented man. Its 10 songs are as strong and forgiving as anything Neil Young has ever written. That squiggle of a high-pitched voice scrawls around territory so close to his heart that you can hear and feel his blood coursing through every note. Musically, this is essentially the third installment of an unofficial trilogy comprising Harvest and Harvest Moon, with Young in folk troubadour mode. Lyrically, the proclamations and observations are as sharp as those made on Rust Never Sleeps, but instead of singing "It's better to burn out then to fade away," Young turns and says, "Good to see you, good to see you again." On several songs Young expounds on the comforts of commitment and shared history, and "Razor Love" is one of the purest examples of what affection sounds like when it's compressed into a three-minute song. In addition to proclamations of love and hope, Young fondly revisits his younger days as a rock and roller in "Buffalo Springfield Again." Young's recent work with Pearl Jam showed a man not afraid to embrace the generation he influenced, but Mirror Ball is third-rate compared to Silver and Gold. It sure is good to see him again. Alyssa Isenstein - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Willamette Week | originally published May 10, 2000