Best tunes of 2003: #15 Camera Obscura “Suspended from class”

Well here we are, four days into the new year: 2024. New years bring new hopes and positivity and of course, the promise of new music. Of all the new albums that are hotly anticipated, the long awaited return of Glasgow, Scotland’s Camera Obscura is one of those that will be the most welcome in my books. They had originally hinted at a full return back in 2019, after a hiatus that began with the death of their long-time keyboardist, Carey Lander, in 2015, but then the pandemic pushed things back a few years.

So it’s almost too perfect that this song should come up in my Best tunes of 2003 list, given that Camera Obscura’s sophomore record, “Underachievers please try harder”, was my introduction to band and still one of my favourites of their works. I had picked this one up after reading comparisons to and affiliations with Belle & Sebastian, another Scottish group with whom I was already a fan. And I found myself really digging the twee-heavy indie pop, especially of those sung by Tracyanne Campbell, who would eventually take over all vocal duties with the departure of founding member John Henderson after this album.

“Suspended from class” is the opening number on said album and a perfect mood-setter. It’s a jangly and peppy piece of sunshine pop but if you listen closer and on repeat listens, you’ll realize that there’s a lot more going on here than meets the eye.

“I should be suspended from class
I don’t know my elbow from my arse”

This couplet is more than just a cheeky turn of phrase. It is a play upon words and hearkens back to a time when being “suspended” was the worst thing possible that we could think of to happen to us. It is the punishment for stepping out of line, for doing something that doesn’t follow the heavily regimented rules of the educational system. And here, it is a metaphorical kick in the pants for crossing the friend zone boundary, for taking a chance at something more, and being shrunk back down to size when those feelings go unreciprocated. The morning after, that eternal and timeless moment when regrets are enlarged to colossal catastrophes, tear-soaked pillows and mascara smears are all spelled out in Campbell’s delicate vocals and are felt in each tug on the guitar strings and accentuated by horn flourishes.

This is the kind of thing we’ve been missing for these last eight years. Such great storytelling and musicianship.