Saint Etienne have been one of the most representative groups of "electronic" rock born from the ashes of synth-pop. Bob Stanley and Pete Wiggs were generally inspired by Depeche Mode, preferring electronic keyboards to conventional instruments, but they excelled in arrangements that had no precedent. At the same time, Saint Etienne were influenced by the general revival of 1960s melody being pursued by Brit-pop: of all those British revisionists, Saint Etienne were the ones who best knew how to "assimilate" the catchy chorus within the context of post-disco dance (often following the intuitions of Spector and Motown thirty years earlier).

After a couple of singles (a Neil Young cover and Kiss And Make Up), the duo recruited singer Sarah Cracknell and found the right formula with Nothing Can Stop Us (May 1991): psychedelic danceable music in the style of the Stone Roses, meticulously calculated arrangements, a background of atmospheric electronics ā la Pink Floyd.

The album Foxbase Alpha (Warner Brothers, 1991) presents an indiscriminate retrieval of the melodic repertoire of the 1960s, but in the service of a refoundation of synthpop on less trivial bases. The gentle funky-soul of Spring, the hypnotic South American feel of Girl VII, and especially the elegant and dreamy People Get Real are harmless little songs in the style of unpretentious easy-listening. But mannerism transforms the soft tribalism of the instrumental Stoned To Say The Least into an exercise of magic. Cracknell’s pure, polished voice and Ian Catt’s sly guitar become fundamental elements in a delicate interlocking game. The tracks extend, absorb the most disparate influences, color themselves with the most varied timbres, and parade increasingly eccentric. The most memorable and at the same time elusive chorus, that of London Belongs To Me, is submerged in a classical-style arrangement (harpsichord, flute) and in gusts of electronic echoes. The impressionistic quality of this method stands out in Like The Swallow, which evokes the flight of the swallow through the tinkling of trinkets and a crescendo of symphonic whirlwinds.
This minor-key danceable music, which relaxes rather than excites, which does not provoke chills but visions, demonstrates the axiom that in art the subject has no importance.

Saint Etienne deploy their immense musical culture in the most innocent tracks. Madonna inspires the rhythm and blues of Join Our Club (April 1992); Dusty Springfield emerges in Avenue (November 1992), in which the singer meows in the distance, wrapped in an echo, over the tender piano-scored melody while catchy sound events unfold (perhaps their masterpiece). Petula Clark is the model for You're In A Bad Way (February 1993), a jovial nursery rhyme sung bouncing on the notes with the counterpoint of a "Sixties"-timbered organ.

So Tough (WB, 1993) is even more refined. Standing out are the slightly jazz-tinged atmosphere of Mario's Cafe, the mournful piano sonata with a martial rhythm of Hobart Paving, and the instrumental Railway Jam, in whose weave of techno, funk, and industrial music hides another experiment in rhythm. Calico seeks subliminal effects, floating Cracknell’s recitation and warbles over a solid house beat and intertwining them with a mournful electronic theme. By comparison, the more straightforward dance tracks—Leafhound, Conchita Martinez, and Junk The Morgue (the peak of Cracknell’s sensuality)—pale. You're In A Bad Way still shows traces of Motown. The tracks on this album are not songs; they are melodic-danceable fantasies, anchored to a melodic theme superbly camouflaged within an electronic landscape. The effect is as understated as it is engaging, as "minimal" as it is emotional.
The album marks a milestone, especially for the singer. Cracknell sets a new standard for "atmospheric" vocalists, those who hum or whisper, focusing more on vocal effects than on actual singing.

The new single Who Do You Think You Are is another peak. I Was Born On Christmas Day celebrates Christmas of 1993.

The tracks on Tiger Bay (Warner Brothers, 1994) are by now mere abstractions of songs, halfway between effervescent kitsch and conceptual dance-pop. Alongside memorable tunes like Hug My Soul and relics of old-school disco like Urban Clearway and Pale Movie, there unfold experiments in Kraftwerk-style electronics (Like A Motorway) and dub (the instrumental Cool Kids Of Death). The whole is luxuriously chic, as if a 1950s Broadway star were accompanied on electronic keyboards by Giorgio Moroder and an orchestra conducted by Ennio Morricone.

The 1995 single, He's On The Phone, and the anthology Too Young To Die effectively closed the group’s classic era. Anymore and Lipslide (Instinct, 1996) opened Cracknell’s solo career in the realm of vintage disco-soul (Desert Baby, Anymore, If You Leave Me) and melancholic ballads (4 Months 2 Weeks, Home, Goldie). Perhaps the most evocative moments, however, are the bossa nova of Oh Boy the Feeling When You Held My Hand and the ‘60s naif pop of Ready or Not and especially Can't Stop Now, the apex of her “retro” program.

The trio returned only four years later, with Good Humour (SubPop, 1998), a distracted and derivative album, a rather mediocre pop record, even if crafted by two shrewd arrangers and a savvy chanteuse. Woodcabin adopts the poses of the most atmospheric trip-hop, very swingy and very soulful, with a solid dub bass. In those realms also hover the jazz flute of Goodnight Jack (aided by violins and harpsichord) and the soulful solfčge of Postman, reminiscent of Burt Bacharach and the soundtracks of the 1960s. The chart-friendly tracks are Sylvie, in the style of the delicate synth-pop of Depeche Mode, and Bad Photographer, a variation on the Supremes’ I Hear A Symphony. The arrangements mainly evoke the orchestral funky-soul that took root in Philadelphia during the 1970s (Split Screen and Erica America are practically a tribute to that genre). The melodies flow lightly and smoothly, but are also predictable and lack vigor. The composing duo simply enjoys setting up “sonic scenarios” of superb craftsmanship.

There is also a bonus album, Fairfax (SubPop, 1998), containing eleven tracks, including those from the EP Bad Photographer (Creation, 1997) and four unreleased pieces.

The arsenal of electronic keyboards is impressive on the EP Places To Visit (SubPop, 1999). Cracknell, in her Diana Ross register, sings Ivyhouse over an innocent music-box sound, 52 Pilot over a soft rhythm, We're In The City over a strong techno cadence. The problem is that this music is now all form and little substance. The singer is, to say the least, wasted.

The soundtrack The Misadventures Of Saint Etienne (L'Appareil-Photo, 2000) turns to a sophisticated form of easy listening, partly evocative piano sonatas and partly sensual vocal arias.

As arranged by To Rococo Rot, Saint Etienne's Sound Of Water (Mantra, 2000) coins a bizarre compromise between Brian Eno's impressionistic electronica, Abba's frivolous disco-music and Everything But The Girl's elegant soul-pop, particularly in the nine-minute multi-part single How We Used To Live. Their retro`, synthetic, dance music has mutated into a bizarre kind of progressive-rock, equal parts Daryl & Hall and Fleetwood Mac, but with a sweet, mellow, harmonious feeling. Nods to Belle And Sebastian via synth-pop explain the mellow, dreamy beauty of lullabyes like Late Morning (Enya-infected chanting, piano tinkling, orchestral colorings), Aspects Of Lambert (clouds of electronics and whispers, minimalistic patterns), and Sycamore (ethereal humming and choir, solemn harpsichord and piano). Far less successful when the beat pounds harder and when Cracknell croons like a disco queen (Don't Back Down), the band nonetheless scores with the driving, raga-accented soul ballad Boy Is Crying.

The single Heart Failed (SubPop, 2000) contains three numbers of the same soft/ethereal kind, including the title-track and the Eastern/robotic Bar Conscience.

Sarah Cracknell's Kelly's Locker (Instinct, 2000) is an album of remixes.

Interlude (Subpop, 2001) is a collection of rarities, with an emphasis on their lounge/dance side. No doubt Saint Etienne can make this music classier than anyone else, but these slow-motion, slowly developing, slow everything, songs are smothered in tacky, viscous, trip-hoppish atmospheres that require quite a dose of patience. The band wastes its talent in the sunny and almost zen aria of Roseneck, in the warping industrial beat of Northwestern. Two ditties winking back at Petula Clark (Red Setter, Shoot Out The Lights) and a mellow, Diana Ross-grade, soul-jazz ballad like Thank You showcase the worst excesses of their retro sound. Impeccable arrangements cannot always redeem bad ideas.
Thankfully, the album also includes three new tracks that are worthy of their major repertory: the pastoral folk of Queen Of Polythene, the postmodern kitsch music of Mountain Rain, the sensual/celestial shuffle of Le Ballade de Saint Etienne.

The mini-album Asleep At The Wheels Of Steel, collects a few instrumental pieces.

Finisterre (Mantra, 2002) returns to the classic Saint Etienne sound: eccentric dance-pop. The new classics are Action, New Thing, B92.

The concept album Tales from Turnpike House (Sanctuary, 2005 - Savoy Jazz, 2006), a Kinks-ian saga of ordinary people, joins Sound Of Water as the only two albums since Tiger Bay that deserved to be released. It is quite typical of Brit-pop in the middle of the 2000s: a sound that is impeccably produced, although it offers absolutely nothing new. Pure form, pure sensory experience. This album could be traded with the contemporary album by Supergrass or Super Furry Animals: one can replace the other at will. Stars Above Us, Side Streets, and Lightning Strikes Twice are the highlights of this genre of the irrelevant. The difference with other dinosaurs of Brit-pop is that Saint Etienne always had class and charm. Furthermore, the doleful Sun In My Morning and especially Milk Bottle Symphony are more than catchy hooks wrapped in fancy arrangements: they are fancy arrangements that feel like catchy hooks, and that is an art in itself.

Basically an autobiographic concept, Words & Music (2012) distills their existential sheen into a set of songs that are the exact opposite of "grand". They explore nostalgia from a warm, intimate vantage point, whether propulsive Tonight or tender Over the Border. The music matters a lot less than the atmosphere, painstakingly evoked by romantic arrangements, youthful vocals and breezy rhythms.