2025 has been a year of farewells. With the world at large saying goodbye to a whole Foxbase Alpha inner sleeve of heroes and legends such as Brian Wilson, Marianne Faithfull, Sly Stone, Terence Stamp, etc. etc. etc., the news that Saint Etienne’s next album would be their last felt like the end of yet another era. And that the comfort of all we knew had so well and truly been whipped away from us. We couldn’t possibly cope with much more heartbreak.
International isn’t Saint Etienne’s Blackstar-type grand denouement, or an enforced final curtain because one of them is off to prison. And while no helplines were required, there was a significant outpouring of love once it was announced, with fans tearfully explaining what this special little pop outfit meant to them and their lives. No, Saint Etienne have just decided to knock making albums on the head, and after 35 years of it, they’ve just decided to know when to stop. But, hey, they’ve put the hours in and their back catalogue isn’t going to suddenly evaporate or anything. International should not be seen as quite the final credits – they’ve not said ‘Er, That’s it! We’re off!’ or anything, and there are still plans for live dates next year – more a pleasing and happy bookend to wondrous adventure.
And what a way to go out. International sees Bob, Pete and Sarah call on some of their chums – some fellow classmates, so-to-speak – to have a party. Recorded around the same time as December’s nocturnal mood piece The Night, which captured the essence of drawn-in nights and the soft glowing impressionist melancholic comfort of the small hours, International is a riotously joyful knees-up. It’s firmly rooted in the Saint Etienne of the ‘He’s On The Phone’, ‘Action’, ‘Tonight’ end of their output.
None more so in the opener ‘Glad’, which is a happy/sad floorfilling pounder, given a thorough ecstatic doof by co-writer and producer, The Chemical Brothers’ Tom Rowlands, and additional twang by Jez from Doves. It’s a three-minute summer stunner. There’s ‘Dancing Heart’ and ‘He’s Gone’, the two tracks co-written and produced with Tim Powell of Xenomania, whose pop chop alchemy sparkled up the key uppers from 2012’s masterful Words and Music.
The team-up with swoonsome pop idol Nick Heyward, who has spent the best part of 40 years looking eternally 19, on ‘The Go-Betweens’ is an ebullient thrill of handsome forces colliding that’s all cafes and Letraset rather than a celebration of the Australian musical outfit. Erol Alkan takes things back to the collage-y airy spatialness of Foxbase-era on ‘Sweet Melodies’, encapsulating the poor-but-happy carefree exploratory dreamers of the early days.
‘Save It For A Rainy Day’ is all electronic claps, cowbells and Prelude stabs and bass courtesy of Flash Cassette, and the effervescent ‘Fade’ glides gorgeously with a tiny glance in the direction of ‘Hug My Soul’’s stirring strings. Speaking of those easter eggs, ‘Brand New Me’, the duet with Confidence Man’s Janet Planet, strikes up as a cousin to ‘Nothing Can Stop Us’ and ‘Spring’, with Sarah’s seductive spoken word strutting away from a lover, tossing off the fur, binning the ring and wheeling her case down the cobbles. You almost yearn to be dumped by her if such an experience results in a departure this glorious.
Electropop’s best older brother Vince Clarke manages to showreel his entire career highlights package into the superb ‘Two Lovers’. The sort of genuinely perfect chart-topper-esque romper that Clarke knocks out in his sleep. I played it four times on the trot when I first heard it, and if we still existed in a fair and just world, it would be Number One for at least seven weeks.
Oh, and in another nod to their past, the between track bits and skits are back, with Countdown’s Colin Murray chipping in, and Katie Puckrick recalling her encounter with a very wankered Pete during Glastonbury in 1994. There’s no need to raid the past of Billy Liar, Head, Peeping Tom or French football highlights, when the lore and in-jokes and references of Emerson Lake & Palmer and elderly synths of Saint Etienne themselves is now so rich as to be nodded to.
After bumping into fellow Hove resident Paul Hartnoll from Orbital numerous times around town, no doubt reflecting on being a fellow class of 1990 alumni, he’s brought on board to co-write and produce the headlight headpiece rave-up of ‘Take Me To The Pilot’. Propulsively weaving his acidic spider twinkles and glo-stick stabs in and out around Sarah.
Then, the finale. Oh boy. ‘The Last Time’ was the final track the trio recorded together and Sarah admitted to having a little blub to. And likewise here. With so many friends and lovers and people going through hardship and sadness, the ins and outs of love and nostalgia and a non-stop forever of memoir and memories, the Facebook reference is a little on the nose. It’s easy to reflect on the rest of International and think a Ferry Aid line-up of collaborators all chipping in would be the ideal send off, but that’s not the case here. ‘The Last Time’ is the sound of Saint Etienne grabbing their coats, fondly looking back at the studio and switching off the lights one final time.
And so, as our beloved trio remove the bunting, empty the ashtrays, hoover up stray bits of feather boas and Tupperware up the leftover sausage rolls and cheese scones, they can bask in the knowledge that they went out on a high. That the friends and admirers that came along had the best time and left with a big smile on their faces. And also, that they’re finally free of nutjobs writing giddy circumlocutory nonsense about every move they make. Maybe there’ll be a back – Back – BACK! ABBA Voyage scenario involving holograms in a decade or so, when we can pilgrimage to a purpose-built arena made to look like a social club and relive our youth. Maybe not. But whatever happens, Saint Etienne want you to remember them this way with not just the pop album of the year but with the pop album of all our lives.
