Spare the Strap

TEN YEARS OF TEARS, THEY CALLED their valedictory compilation. But Arab Strap, who split up at the end of 2006 after a decade documenting the less salubrious side of the Scottish male psyche, spent much of their celebratory farewell tour keeping those floodgates in check.

"I think it's best to go out smiling," says their erstwhile frontman Aidan Moffat, "but there was a sadness to it. I thought I was going to break down and start greeting at one point. It's strange, because men don't really talk to each other about their feelings. We were all feeling quite emotional but nobody really wanted to bring it up. We were having such a good time that we didn't want to taint it."

The paradox of all this boys-don't-cry stoicism is that, after six Arab Strap albums of the most candid kitchen sink revelations about sexual and social intercourse, everyone knows that Moffat is more than capable of expressing his feelings in his lyrics. "Only into the microphone," he insists.

Malcolm Middleton, his former partner in beer and self-loathing, has since released his most successful solo album, A Brighter Beat, and challenged for the Christmas Number One slot with his surprisingly upbeat single We're All Going to Die. He has another album – possibly his last solo effort, he says – out at the beginning of March.

Moffat, meanwhile, has just produced his first post-Strap utterance. Released under his full name, Aidan John Moffat, I Can Hear Your Heart is a recording of his own poetry and prose (plus a Dorothy Parker poem and a brief cover of Bruce Springsteen's Hungry Heart) collated over the years and moulded into a ruthlessly frank portrait of Moffat as a rather aimless and morally ambivalent twentysomething. It includes a short story, printed in the CD booklet, called Poop, and a CD of spoken word and musical backing called Loop.

"It paints a picture but it doesn't really end," says Moffat. "That's why it's called Loop because I don't know if it's going to go on. There's no character development, I think I'm still a cock at the end of it."

Despite some trepidation on his part, Moffat's girlfriend has heard the album – which features a catalogue of infidelities committed against past girlfriends – and finds it funny. "I made sure I wasn't there when she heard it," says Moffat. "I don't think it's a party experience, I think it's a very individual experience."

To that end, the sleevenotes actively encourage the consumer to listen alone, "preferably with a hangover" because, as Moffat says, "it's always good to know that someone's in the same position ..."

Although he is a happier, more settled man these days, Moffat was still quite prepared to lay bare his most intimate encounters and his less attractive impulses in some of his most explicit writing to date.

"I've often wondered why I don't have that barrier that other people do," he says. "I'm just quite at ease with bodily functions, and I don't think that should be shied away from. If I do write about something sexual, I hope people understand it's because there is a poignancy to it. Sex is never the point in any way – it's all about the emotions and love behind it. I don't understand that people would be offended to hear about that – even my mother could listen to it."

She certainly could – being of age to do so. The album sleeve warns that "this material is intended for adults only" and the Chemikal Underground microsite for the album requires the user to enter a date of birth before they can proceed to the den of iniquity within. Presumably any date of birth which places you over the age of 18 will suffice.

The reason for the record company caution is that, despite the wider emotional context of the material, I Can Hear Your Heart is liberally sprinkled with stark language, not least titles including C*nts and F*ck It, which could be offensive to some.

"I don't really believe there is such a thing as bad language," contends Moffat. "The way people choose to communicate might not suit everybody's taste but I don't think it should be deemed offensive. That's why C*nts is near the start of the album – a lot of people in Scotland don't really find it an offensive word. But the more people don't allow it, they just give it this notoriety that perpetuates its offensiveness, which is ridiculous. Language is an ever evolving thing."

The one deliberate exception he makes to his argument is on All The Love You Need, an anti-racist poem containing a flurry of racist terminology. "These are words which are genuinely horrible and genuinely hurt people," he says. Moffat wasn't even sure he wanted to include it, and has prefaced its recitation with his own warning.

There is nothing necessarily comfortable about good writing. I Can Hear Your Heart is pretty unforgiving, but Moffat is pleased that it packs an instant punch. Still, he is unsure that he would produce another album like it. "I think I'd quite like to do a book of short stories next, but I don't have the discipline required. I'm very easily distracted. If I don't feel it in two minutes, then I'll just go and do something else. If I write two lines for a song, I'm so pleased, I take the rest of the day off!"

Before he considers if he has a future in writing, Moffat will be concentrating on his new band project, the jolly-sounding Aidan Moffat & The Best Ofs. He has an album already written and partly recorded for release early next year, which sounds like it will be quite a lyrical departure from the sordid odysseys of old. Aidan Moffat is finally cleaning up and cheering up.

"The lyrics are all quite romantic and positive," he says. "There's virtually no swearing, virtually no allusions to sex. I've attempted to write songs about being in love while trying to retain a certain character, but it's very hard to write a song about being positive without descending into cliché. Listening to songs about other people's happiness can be quite dull."

• I Can Hear Your Heart is out now on Chemikal Underground