SAINT ETIENNE - International

Saint Etienne are leaving us. A considered choice, they say, matured with the conviction of handing over the reins at the right moment, after more than thirty years of honourable service as indie exponents of an England that – indeed – no longer exists. Yes, because talking about it today might seem redundant, but already back in the Nineties, Bob, Pete & Sarah had created a versatile, mongrel blend of music, football and cinema, with which they moved from folk to techno, from Sweden to Berlin, then home to the English countryside, to Fulham to cheer on Queen's Park Rangers and to Islington to curse Tony Blair. Never stage lions nor front-page pop stars, the trio always opted for the role of mixing-desk tailors in service of the song form, at once modern and démodé, with a very blonde vocalist refining their image for the MTV era. However bittersweet it may be for longtime fans, leaving now, amid the chaos of the streaming era and its fleeting, distracted attention spans, is a choice consistent with who they've always been.

So, after two interlocutory ambient chapters such as "I've Been Trying To Tell You" and "The Night", this final spin on the carousel is fittingly titled "International" and offers a sparkling, nostalgic pop panorama, with which to embrace the audience, pop into a club, perhaps onto the very same techno tiles once trodden by "Casino Classics", and, when the occasion calls for it, quote themselves with a smile on their lips.

That the Etiennes have reached the end of the road in fine form is already clear from the previews; a touch baggy, a touch jangle, but geared towards the alternative dancefloor of some out-of-town club, "Glad" is the kind of romantic, seductive song only they know how to write (among the guests, Tom of the Chemical Brothers and Jez of Doves), while the cinematic "Take Me To The Pilot", dark and veiledly desperate with help from Paul of Orbital, throbs with auteur techno over a minimal beat.

From here, the album packs in melodies of every kind, from the gleaming synth-pop of "Dancing Heart" and "Two Lovers" – the latter not by chance co-written with Vince Clarke – to the piano-house of "He's Gone", or the exquisite italodisco pulse of "Save It For A Rainy Day", which recalls the time the Pet Shop Boys fell for our own paninari. But the vengeful "Why Are You Calling" stirs beneath a jazzy gait and psychedelic spirals in the manner of Cornershop and Mandalay, and even the alternative Kylie Minogue of "Impossible Princess" resurfaces, a reminder of the B-side of a band that's always likeable but never to be underestimated.

Naturally, the trio also enjoy digging up the past, as when Nick Heyward breaks in on "The Go Between" to craft a number that could have come from the first solo Robbie Williams. Utterly shameless, indeed poking fun at themselves, "Brand New Me" has been moulded on the exact template of the old "Nothing Can Stop Us Now", from the way the track is built around the sample to the spoken verse, the springtime chorus and the cymbal scratch.

On the dreamier side, "International" offers the gossamer "Sweet Melodies", but it's the bitter love story of "Fade" that strings together one of the warmest tunes of the year so far, the kind of song you let drift in the background during the saddest moments. The listen can only close with "The Last Time", muffled pop with an ironic, cryptic lyric, a way of saying goodbye and drawing the curtain with that thread of British irony the trio have always dispensed.

Regrets? Probably a few, such as the fact that, despite often being exquisitely pop, our heroes never landed a single inside the British Top Ten – "He's On The Phone", a further English-language reworking of an Etienne Daho classic, stalled at n.11 in November 1995. The other possible contender, the inventive reworking of Neil Young's "Only Love Can Break Your Heart" by Neil Young, was reissued in 1991 at the dawn of the Nielsen Soundscan era, but the barcode printed on the pink sleeve wouldn't scan properly, likely throwing off the count (it stalled at n.39). And then there was that time they tried out a song for the James Bond franchise's "Tomorrow Never Dies", later lost to the version by Sheryl Crow.

There are plenty of anecdotes - too many, really - because Saint Etienne have been a small but prolific offshoot of British pop, close friends with Jarvis Cocker, Lawrence, Marc Almond and many others besides. In memory of a bygone England, of an affable, curious and tolerant way of being: “International”.

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04/09/2025