In Interview: The Scottish Enlightenment

"We are really clever," nods The Scottish Enlightenment's bassist Angus Moyes when asked whether the band agree with their highbrow-indie tag. It seems a fair question, given the gravitas of the quartet’s long-awaited debut LP, St. Thomas; an album which grapples with grand ideas and dissects them all with an astute lyricism.

Angus’s statement is made with his tongue firmly wedged in cheek, as his brother and frontman David adds, frankly: "There’s never been any effort to write songs about intellectual concepts. It’s about writing about things that hurt. That’s why we’re so downbeat and depressing."

Alongside David and Angus sit Michael Alexander and David Morrison, who together have crafted one of the finest Scottish albums to emerge this year. Musically, St. Thomas is brooding, melancholic and heartbreaking – but it’s truly set aside from the pack by its weighty, thematic approach.

When we move from its perceived intellectualism to the dark tones of the album, David is quick to respond. "That’s my fault, really, I can’t write positive songs. When I’m happy, I’ll head out to the garden and weed it," he says. "When things are hard, or I’m upset, I’ll go upstairs and reach for the guitar." It’s a cathartic process it seems, which has seen David through some personal struggles. "I’ve not been particularly happy for the last few years," he adds with a disarming openness, "having intermittently struggled with depression."

Whilst music seems to have provided an invaluable outlet, one also wonders whether religion plays a similar role. From the celestial titling and religious referencing throughout St. Thomas, to its spacious cathedral-like acoustics, The Scottish Enlightenment are shrouded in religious imagery. It’s a subject which elicits some nervous laughter, with David finally confirming: “Yes, we are religious people.” Born to a Baptist father, he points out that he and his brother have been reticent to openly advertise their faith. “It’s a very difficult thing for me to talk about, because people can have such prejudices. That’s made me very cautious.” Is the album therefore conceptualised by religion? “The album is essentially about doubt,” David offers. “That’s been a large part of my life for the last few years. Doubt overtook me a bit. In the end, the album is about a loss of faith.”

It’s a theme which permeates their work, although doubt seems understandable for a band who received an early MySpace message which flatly stated ‘Sorry, I don’t like your band.' So how do they cope with criticism, whether from the music media or belligerent bedroom blogging legions? "We have different degrees of sensitivity," says Angus, "there’s us, and then…" he trails off, pointing to David and prompting a chorus of affectionate laughter "...it doesn’t bother me, but sometimes I feel defensive of my brother."

Although it seems that the media are the least of Angus’s worries; there’s criticism to front from closer quarters. “It was the album launch last night, and I asked my wife if she was going,” he smirks. “She said ‘no, I’ve got the cold.’” And did she? “No, [she admitted] ‘I just don’t like your music.’”

As the band's constituent members head home for Banchory, Dunfermline and Edinburgh, I ask what the night holds in store. Will David bury his head in a dense volume of Scottish History? Not even close. “I love The X-Factor and a glass of wine” he offers, “[although] Cheryl Cole brings out the worst in me.” And with that simple statement, The Scottish Enlightenment’s grandeur melts away. It seems they’re normal enough folk after all.