Compared with the majority of British Sea Power's work, Man of Aran is a very mellow album. The instrumentals are generally relaxing, but are most rewarding when heard in concert with the film Man of Aran, which is a 1934 documentary detailing the difficult lives of the population of Aran, a small group of islands off the coast of Ireland. For the recent DVD release of the film, BSP was commissioned to record a soundtrack. As is often true of incidental film music, the soundtrack works well with the film, but as a stand alone album there is plenty of room for distraction - a polite way of saying it can occasionally be kinda dull. Nevertheless, the album has its fair share of moments, and the better of these rank with the best the band has recorded. The title track, “Man of Aran,” is an ambient piece that combines shimmering strings and a simple repeating piano line with the sounds of ocean waves crashing in the distance. The only changes in the track over the course of its three and a half minutes are subtle. It makes for a lovely complement to the scene it accompanies, the moonlight sparkling across waves lapping at the dark sand of the beach.

The sound of the ocean is a constant throughout the album, providing a sense of continuity that makes the individual songs flow together to form one epic suite. Several of the songs, however, are epic in their own right. The second piece on the album, “The South Sound”, is one of three tracks that is over 11 minutes in length. It begins in a similar way to the previous track, with minimalist piano and spare strings before the beat picks up about half way in. One by one, percussion, guitars and several more strings are added to the mix and the track builds to a joyous crescendo, before quietly slipping back into the surf in its final moments. The next piece, “Come Wander With Me”, is a much more melancholic affair, the dirge like percussion complemented by funereal cello and brass section. The track also marks the only use of discernible vocals on the album. The singing is eerie and calm, leaving a palpable sense of sadness hanging in the air. “Tiger King” continues in a similar, albeit more ambient, vein. A string quartet takes center stage with it's mournful ebb and flow.

After a few false starts, “The Currach” breaks into a simple and bittersweet tune that is reminiscent of fair grounds: a brilliantly colored carousel, a child dancing in an elegant dress, a smiling face in a mirrored funhouse. The absence of lyrics lets the imagination spin and twirl for a short moment.

“Boy Vertiginous,” is one of the more conventional tracks on the album, building around a constantly repeating guitar line as the other instruments pile on layers of melodic sound. The piece is a pleasant calm before the storm, as it were, for it is followed by the monstrous “Spearing The Sunfish.” After a terrifying intro that sounds like some unholy combination of a screwdriver being ground against metal strings and the wail of a behemoth from the deep, a heavy warlike drumbeat picks up the pace, and danger-striking distortion runs awry. One gets the sense of a hunter closing in on its prey: the anticipation rises, the beast closes in, and all hell breaks loose. Every instrument seems to be viciously battling for the upper hand, with no victor apparent. Then everything stops. The last breath is drawn.

“Conneely Of The West,” comes as a welcome reprieve from the violence that precedes it. With its lilting strings and gentle electric guitar, it attains an optimistic, climbing quality before the ever-present sound of the sea carries it into “The North Sound.” Here the music quickly picks up, recalling a fast paced action sequence. Like a spy movie, but less dangerous, with smaller explosions, and in major chords. This sense of excitement lingers even as the song itself slows and finally fades out.

Next up is the companion piece to the title track, “Woman of Aran.” It is very calming with wordless choral strains and hollowly tinkling keys flowing smoothly into the quiet softness of “It Comes Back Again.” Of the three epic length tracks, this is the least interesting, changing slowly and little over the course of its 11 minutes.

The final track, however, brims with splendor. “No Man Is An Archipelago” is the ending mark of the journey, and begins with a quietly triumphant passage which holds and grows slowly but steadily. Each instrumental burst is perfectly timed to capture your entire being and pull it through a glorious wall of sound, making this song the strongest to stand on its own. It ends with an epic burst then fades. This track played live, would easily have the power to make any audience fall to pieces.

As an instrumental album Man of Aran is best listened to in its entirety in order to experience the musical narrative that plays out over its length. I recommend turning the lights low, putting the world aside, and using the best speakers available to catch each subtlety and detail. Although it can require patience at times, anyone who gives the album a chance will be amply rewarded with (at least) a few moments of true beauty.

Track List
1. Man Of Aran (3:40)
2. The South Sound (11:33)
3. Come Wander With Me (4:12)
4. Tiger King (5:17)
5. The Currach (2:11)
6. Boy Vertiginous (5:17)
7. Spearing The Sunfish (11:44)
8. Conneely Of The West (4:21)
9. The North Sound (4:56)
10. Woman Of Aran (4:36)
11. It Comes Back Again (11:14)
12. No Man Is An Archipelago (4:49)