Pinpointing precisely where British Sea Power want to position themselves – and for that matter where we want to see them – hasn’t been the simplest of tasks over recent years as they sought a lasting footing post-‘The Decline Of British Sea Power’; their classic, mesmerising, and eccentrically laced, debut. The thing is, we were all probably a little distracted by the spectacle early on. The circus surrounding it was on at least an equal billing with the more pressing matter of the music. We strode into venues demanding thick, foliage-decked stages, decommissioned military uniforms, billowing dry ice, thousand-mile stares, shoulder-surfing, equipment-swinging carnage, a helmeted nutter with a big drum stalking through the audience and a giant bear called Ursula turning up for the crescendo, given a bruising by a stuffed heron for good luck. And what we wanted we got, plied on thicker and indeed pecked harder with each passing visit.  It was almost a lucky coincidence that the sounds they created to soundtrack the hubris were hopeful chest-puffing amalgams of reverb-heavy 80s UK indie, a hint of the spiralling breakneck creativity of the Pixies and a high-art backbone from a bygone age. Their knee-jerk reaction away from the pantomime aspect of their character with the last album to emphasise their songwriting strengths – shored up with the same attention to detail – was wholly understandable, but it left you feeling short changed. The fact is though that they were never mutually exclusive, those competing personality strands; they needed and indeed fed one another, veritable Siamese twins they were. But as we say, the balance really needed to be kept in check, lest they suffer the undeserved and factually inaccurate fate of being labelled a novelty band. Bearing in mind this careful shift we feel a little sorry for the lone audience member on the front row, gripping a single pathetic twig, possibly longing for the days when observers often arrived brandishing the best part of a silver birch. But it turns out he’s probably closer to the spirit of BSP2008 than we are with our reservations and by the end probably feels vindicated. There is some foliage lining the stage, accompanying the flags that theme the third album’s expedition. They’re officially ‘non-uniformed’ but hardly out of character – their civvies aren’t exactly plain white Ts. The bear turns up as does ex-pat Eamon for a rare reunion essentially in his underpants, the Czech flag and a wrestling belt (and, naturally, helmet). Noble ends up on a ledge too and Hamilton encores masked, like the Phantom of the indie gig. None of this is necessary, it’s a distraction they could have done just fine without, but it reinstates a sense of mischief and seeing as they’ve evolved into such a tight tour-de-force it adds colour rather than overwhelms. They must still be the only band in existence that could rampantly chime out a protest against the evils of light pollution and not sound either twee or fanciful – opening with ‘Lights Out For Darker Skies’ they trail sparks from a firm, striding posture, gaining momentum like a scrap snowball, underlining reasons that they are unique before the sideshow has even had chance to crank into gear. Years of trading in experiences rather than straight song performances have crossed them into a separate headspace, ensuring they always source that something extra whenever they approach a microphone or ratchet out a chord. The songs, the new ones especially, are as much in debt to this approach as their thoughtful composition. Thus, the likes of ‘Waving Flags’, ‘Atom’, ‘Down On The Ground’ and ‘Canvey Island’ are the rich product of a band that know themselves well, not to mention being equally acquainted with melody, drama, emotion and the relationships betwixt the three. It’s not just that they play like they own the songs, they play like they are the songs. Which, really, is spectacle enough.
Relevant sites:
www.britishseapower.co.uk
www.myspace.com/britishseapower
    
 
Photos and Report by James Berry for Crud Magazine 2008©
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