The new "From the Archives" feature on JPP will showcase album reviews previously unavailable on the site. They’ll range from recent history to the distant past. As they are culled “from the archives,” they will not look back beyond the moment the review was first written but will instead represent the first impression and impact of each album. First up: Do You Like Rock Music? by British Sea Power from February 2008.
Like Secret Machines did a few years ago, there's no denying that British Sea Power is seeking a spotlight upon a big stage before an elephantine audience. They want every nook and cranny of every arena in the world to shake and shiver before their suddenly massive sound. Every aching breath and chiming pulse before the inevitable scraping guitar soar has been scripted like a sales pitch; there may be room for some ad-libbing, but the end result must be the same. Instead of a sale, they want to rock the house, so to speak.
Going gargantuan has both its boons and detriments. I doubt anyone expected the BSP from the early days to ever seek out back-and-forth sing-alongs and towering choruses bathed in the glaring white light of a thousand lamps casting the entire band in silhouette. But now that they've rolled the dice in that direction, time will only tell what becomes of them. Some groups were made for big venues, generally because their performance and identity were, well, big. But after a frazzled and anarchic post-punk squealer and an intimate indie pop croon record, was arena rock really the appropriate next move?
For that answer, I look to the results. Just because BSP opens up their collective arms towards the rafters doesn't mean that the masses will stream along under the twelve-foot hang of the colossal platform on which they want to perform. They certainly know how to ascend/sweep (almost any track can prove that), but what's required to get teenage dolls and mulleted mutants to obsess with the thirty-buck T-shirt and two gallon beer at every retired hockey colloseum from Spokane to Orlando is the perfect hook. You know what that is: the sort of needling, buried-in-the-gut virus that gets otherwise level-headed college-educated professionals to let slip a fist pump and hurrah when Bon Jovi or Journey comes roaring out of the jukebox. Most arena rock groups are an unctuous breed; they're not meant to be liked by discriminating music lovers, but they inspire a rabid following all the same. Is that really what British Sea Power wants?
There are hints of their old fashion buried under the polished play-by-play. "Atom" and "A Trip Out" have the seethe from "Decline" and "The Great Skua" and "No Need to Cry" both have the gentle melodic quality of "Open Season." But none of those songs feel lifted from either album; indeed, they'd feel out of place on those records. Instead, they've been fitted with explosions and nosedives to make Michael Bay drool; careful and precise melodies mathematically proven in the Aerosmith hitmaker labaratory to cause a reaction from less-discerning MTV robots; crescendos intended to get even the physically disabled to their feet; and bridges designed for rowdy, uncoordinated stomps from everyone all the way to the general admission seating. The raw vitality and faked hell-of-it experimentation is absent. Too many of these songs sound like they were written by a computer formula.
There's no doubt that some will squeal with delight at the band's new direction. There's also no doubt that a few of these tracks are actually quite good, and not in that "why am I doing this?" altered-confusion mindset when you start singing along against all instincts to some dreck pumped out by Foreigner. "Lights Out for Darker Skies" fulfills the all-drive/no-point intro, "All in It," by being a chugging and atmospheric rawk anthem, an epic that doesn't overstay its welcome despite the kind-of-obvious bridge designed to calm the audience before the next inferno. "Down on the Ground" starts out promisingly with a quick stutter rhythm before wheezing through its soupy refrain. The aforementioned "Atom" is derivative to be sure, and too processed for its for-the-love-of-reverb design, but succeeds in offering a little grind to the too-polished whole. "Waving Flags" is guilty of nearly every cliché and complaint the sub-genre has to offer, but if there is a guilty pleasure anthem that could inspire beer-swillers to chant, this is probably it. The eight-minute "We Close Our Eyes" is the best break we get from the arena anthem sound; its hypnotic repetition hammers away until you surrender (too bad it comes at the end of the album, so the break is pointless). And "Open the Door" may lean a little too much into Chris Martin's camp, but at least its enormous force isn't driven solely by arcing guitars and thunderous drums.
Some groups have proven that they can handle the task of selling out shows for thirty-thousand-plus (mostly old UK rock icons that are probably too old to be playing those venues anymore). I doubt that British Sea Power is capable quite yet, but the flash of promise is undeniable, and I can't imagine that this album is a statement to anything BUT that they want to quite badly. Maybe they can just go tour with U2 until they get a few top ten hits on the radio so they can headline them alone.
5 out of 10
