First things first. 'Man of Aran' is NOT the follow-up to BRITISH SEA POWER'S excellent 'Do You Like Rock Music?' album. It IS, however, both a notable departure and a valuable addition to their canon of work.
Originally released in 1934, 'Man of Aran' was directed by American film maker Robert J. Flaherty. Viewed seventy years later, the film appears to be a documentary on the surface, as it concerns the lives of a small family unit eking out a living on the blasted and remote Aran Islands off the west coast of Ireland. They rely upon their ability to catch the fruits of the ocean to survive and anyone who watches it will be left in no doubt of the spectacular, ahem, Irish Sea Power captured so vividly by the director.
Admittedly, all isn't quite as it seems. Yes, the people filmed were predominantly Aran natives, though they weren't actually a family unit and if you trawl through Wikipedia you'll find claims that some of the scenes were deliberately staged. With hindsight, it's perhaps more accurate to describe 'Man of Aran' as a docu-drama, with maybe around 75% of what is portrayed being based upon reality.
What is undeniable, though, is that the film was well ahead of its' time. It was a labour of love for Flaherty, who spent considerable time on Aran and edited the film down from around half a million feet of film. The resulting movie would go on to Grand Prix success at the 1935 Venice Film Festival with famous film critic Pauline Kael being moved to write that it captured “the greatest film tribute to man's struggle against a hostile nature.”
Kael wasn't far wrong. Despite portraying a lifestyle which was becoming archaic even as Flaherty made the film, 'Man of Aran' remains immensely striking decades on. The wildness of the location is all-encompassing, while everything from the clothes the islanders wear (check out the massive Tam-o-Shanters all the men don!) through to the way the men carry their currachs (boats) over their heads like giant beetles makes for a fascinating window on to a world which has long since ceased to exist.
As you might imagine, the original soundtrack had a folk-ish, Celtic strain to it, yet the imagery proves the perfect vehicle for British Sea Power's brand new original soundtrack. Yes, the music works especially well in conjunction with the visuals, but even on its' own, the soundtrack is hugely evocative and resonant.
Overall, there's a huge restraint and patience to the music BSP supply here. 'Man of Aran' itself is typical, featuring a hypnotic, circular piano and cello refrain. It's earnestly pretty, yet forbidding and sets the scene perfectly for the epic, 10-minute 'The South Sound' where minimal, mournful, Gaelic-tinged tones gradually build to soundtrack the arrival of the fishermen in the currach and the almighty struggle required to keep the ocean from claiming their nets once and for all.
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Its' later 'sister' piece, 'The North Sound' again benefits from a similar approach with the churning guitars and Wood's relentless drum tattoo perfectly describing a sense of urgency and motion. It's topped by the album's centre-piece, 'Spearing The Sunfish', however, where buzzsaw guitar riffs and the galloping drums provide the perfect accompaniment to the film's central hunt scene. In it, the fishermen take on basking shark in a fight to the death which is both breathlessly exciting and also beautifully sound-tracked by the growing, Sonic Youth-style menace of the track.
The only track featuring vocals is 'Come Wander With Me' and it's another highlight. Once again, the cello is all-important, linking arms with Noble's reverbed guitar, a funereal trumpet and a choral wash before Jan's vocal itself appears. It's poised, desolate and quite beautiful and displays a great lightness of touch. This is again demonstrated by the aquatic tea-dance waltz of 'The Currach' which – as the title suggests – accompanies the scene where a fisherman patches the hull of his boat with primitive tar and cloth.
Other than 'Spearing The Sunfish”s frenzied conclusion, the closing track 'No Man Is An Archipelago' is probably the closest to BSP'S recognisable, anthemic sound and provides a suitably stirring and emotional curtain call to what has proved to be a fascinating hour and twenty minutes.
'Man of Aran', then, is a remarkable depiction of a life and culture long since lost to the four winds of history. We talk of an 'organic' approach a lot these days, but in our heart of hearts, most of us know we'll never get close to experiencing the kind of elemental existence the Aran islanders deal with so adroitly here. They went by the grace of God and we're richer for being able to see that for ourselves. Congratulations to British Sea Power for once again doing something different and making it count.
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