Underachievers Please Try Harder

Review
**Camera Obscura - Underachievers Please Try Harder**
★★★★☆
In the grand tradition of Scottish bands who make melancholy sound absolutely gorgeous, Camera Obscura arrived in 2003 with their sophomore effort *Underachievers Please Try Harder*, a record that feels like discovering a dusty collection of perfect pop singles in your favourite charity shop. Following their 2001 debut *Biggest Bluest Hi Fi*, the Glasgow quintet had spent two years honing their craft, and the results suggest they'd been listening to a lot of Felt, Belle & Sebastian, and perhaps raiding the Postcard Records back catalogue with scholarly dedication.
The album emerged during that fertile period when Scottish indie pop was experiencing something of a renaissance. While Franz Ferdinand were still a year away from making angular post-punk fashionable again, Camera Obscura were quietly perfecting a more introspective approach. Led by the crystalline vocals of Tracyanne Campbell, whose voice carries the same fragile authority as a young Judy Dyble or a less theatrical Björk, the band crafted songs that shimmer with the kind of autumnal beauty that makes you want to walk through fallen leaves while contemplating past romances.
Musically, *Underachievers Please Try Harder* sits comfortably in the indie pop tradition, but with enough idiosyncrasies to avoid pastiche. The arrangements are deceptively simple – jangly guitars, understated rhythm section, occasional flourishes of trumpet and strings – yet they create a sonic landscape that's both intimate and expansive. Producer Stuart Murdoch's influence is unmistakable, lending the proceedings the same whispered confidence that made Belle & Sebastian's early records so compelling.
The album's opening salvo, "Suspended from Class," establishes the template immediately: Campbell's vocals float over a bed of chiming guitars and gentle percussion, while lyrics about academic disappointment become unexpectedly poignant. It's followed by "Teenager," a perfect encapsulation of the band's ability to make the mundane feel magical. Campbell sings about adolescent awkwardness with such tender specificity that you can practically smell the school corridors and feel the weight of unrequited crushes.
"Keep It Clean" stands as perhaps the album's finest moment, a deceptively bouncy number about maintaining dignity in the face of romantic disappointment. The interplay between Campbell's vocals and the band's musical bed creates something genuinely moving – it's the kind of song that sounds slight on first listen but reveals new depths with each encounter. Similarly, "Books Written for Girls" takes what could have been a throwaway concept and transforms it into a meditation on female identity and literary escapism.
The album's emotional centrepiece, "I Don't Do Crowds," showcases Campbell's gift for turning social anxiety into art. Over a backdrop of melancholic strings and brushed drums, she delivers lines about isolation with such conviction that introversion becomes a badge of honour rather than a character flaw. It's indie pop as therapy session, and it works beautifully.
Not every moment reaches these heights – "A Red, Red Rose" feels slightly overwrought, and "Housebound" meanders where it should soar – but the album's consistency is remarkable. Even the lesser tracks contribute to an overall mood that's both cohesive and compelling. The production deserves particular credit for creating space around each element, allowing Campbell's vocals to breathe while ensuring the instrumental arrangements never feel cluttered.
Twenty years on, *Underachievers Please Try Harder* has aged remarkably well. While many of their contemporaries have either disappeared or evolved beyond recognition, Camera Obscura's second album remains a perfect snapshot of a particular moment in British indie pop. It predated the blog-rock explosion by a few years, existing in that sweet spot when bands could still develop organically without the pressure of instant online judgment.
The album's title proved somewhat prophetic – Camera Obscura would indeed try harder on subsequent releases, achieving greater commercial success and critical acclaim. Yet there's something special about this particular collection, a sense of a band finding their voice without overthinking the process. It's the sound of underachievers who, by simply being themselves, achieved something rather wonderful indeed. In a world that increasingly rewards the loudest voices, *Underachievers Please Try Harder* stands as a gentle reminder that sometimes the most profound statements are made in whispers.
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