The last four times I’ve listened to this album, I’ve fallen asleep, and I can’t explain why. The same thing happens with the band’s last album, The Decline of British Sea Power, which rocks decidedly much harder — at least the part that I remember hearing before the Sandman sets in.
When Open Season begins with “It Ended on an Oily Stage,” it’s as if the band has just come out of the rainy Brighton dusk (requisite military uniforms covered in beads of collected precipitation), plugged in its instruments and played the local pub as if it were Wembly Arena. Unlike most bands that have taken steps away from their post-punk idols with their following albums, British Sea Power continue to sound as real as if they were playing a few feet from you, in a thatched roof tavern or a sour-smelling punk dive. They’ve not gotten out of their Joy Division stage and have taken some lessons in precious twee-pop from Belle & Sebastian. Singer Yan sounds like Springsteen channeling Ian Curtis in a crooning contest. While softer songs alternate with louder ones, the music is hypnotizing, like the embodiment of three generations of Brit pop in a band that doesn’t care whether it rocks your fucking socks off or sends you to sleep. And, frankly, neither do I.
British Sea Power will perform at the Casbah May 3.