Seafood As The Cry Flows

I've always had a warm little place in my heart for Seafood, ever since I heard early single Belt, with David Line's fragile, unashamedly indie vocals counterpointed by winding yet bruising guitars. Pleasantly surprised by their reappearance on Cooking Vinyl, I venture into this record with a sense of optimism: there was a certain modest charm to the band's previous material, after all.

General consensus is that Seafood are one of the UK's terminally underrated acts, but given the rapid sell-out period on their latest few dates, this is clearly an untenable observation. As the cunningly-titled As The Cry Flows commences, it becomes clear that Seafood are no less appealing now than they ever were, and there's an air of sophistication that was possibly less in evidence in earlier times. The music press' favourite Hammond-tinkler Ed Harcourt tickles his keys here on a number of tracks and his presence adds an understated finesse to proceedings. Recorded by the band, the production is spot-on, and highlights the delicate harmonies and the impressive interplay in the band. Opener I Dreamt We Ruled The Sun is a largely instrumental, moody affair almost reminiscent of the post-Godspeed school of post-rock such as Explosions In The Sky or A Silver Mount Zion, in its sparse, melodic arrangement and subtle vocal blending. This atmospheric beginning is followed by some classic indie pop'n'rock with Heat Walks Against Me, its arpeggiated guitars balancing nicely with the attractive vocal melody. This track also marks the first sign of the big old guitars at its climax, a feature that's happily repeated elsewhere.

No Sense Of Home follows, with its lazy, woozy verse and equally easy-on-the-ears chorus: in fact, the kind of melodic, engulfing sound of the first three tracks is apparently what Seafood do best nowadays. Although the big guitars are not unwelcome in many places, when the band attempt full on rock songs they are less successful. First single Good Reason, described as the band's "first vitriolic song of hate" is possibly the most grating, least impressive song on here - instead of sounding like a peculiarly English Sebadoh as they do elsewhere, Good Reason comes across like a Foo Fighters off day.

Where Seafood can keep one hand on the brakes, things certainly perk up. In fact, with that one exception, it's difficult to find an unpleasant song on the album. Although there is a pervading sense of melancholy hinted at by the title, there are some chirpy moments on here - witness Milk & Honey's upbeat alt.country attempt to out-Coral the Coral, and the escape-to-the-country banjo on Orange Rise.

Despite reservations caused by Line's idiosyncratic vocals and the general lack of lo-fi indie that first drew me to them, Seafood have produced a fine album here. Sitting nicely on Cooking Vinyl's shelf next to various alt.country, folk and indie troubadours, As The Cry Flows is another step towards quiet becoming the new loud, and is none the worse for it.