British Sea Power

Some people have all the luck. I mean, you come in from a hard day's graft and decide to take the missus down the local for a quick pint and game of chase the ace, and whaddayaknow, there's only two of the finest live bands in the country playing down your boozer. On a Monday night. With no strings attached.

The Musician is hardly the most elaborate of settings to be honest. Sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of Leicester's once-thriving but now desolate industrial estates, its eye-catching motif is just about big enough to see from the speedway circuit of the city's inner ring road. In fact, the number of people who've been asking for directions to the venue - yours truly included - probably accounts for a good 75 per cent of the entire audience, so once inside its intimate surroundings it feels like a reunion of sorts. Various punters can be heard exchanging pleasantries that tend to go along the lines of, "Find it alright, did you?", followed by either a "No" or "Yes" response. (surely they all found it okay, if they're there? Michelin Road Atlas-loving Ed)

Looking around the venue - which seems to have played host to every jazz, blues and skiffle combo for the past three decades if the various photos and plaques adorning its walls are anything to go by - there's a distinctly older-than-usual average age, many of whom cast what can only be described as a curious eye when five men in British Rail uniforms past and present take the stage and launch into the fevered haze of 'Citizen'. What they probably don't realise is that they're watching the development of potentially the most exciting band in Britain cast away any traces of their embryonic nervousness and blossom into what their long-term believers always felt they were capable of becoming. No longer static and uneasy, the engaging synergy on stage, particularly between singer/guitarist Dave Martin, fellow six-stringer Guy Bannister and bassist Alistair Bowes, is a joy to behold.

A cataclysmic 'Rook House For Bobby' sends shivers up the spine, forcing every hair to its utmost position before shooting them back down again. Likewise the g(l)orious 'Stainless Steel' and 'Terra Nova', the latter of which is dedicated to the untimely passing of Steve Irwin. New song 'Spencer Perceval', about the only British Prime Minister to have been assassinated (key lyric: "I am murdered..."), is a monolithic journey bathed in feedback and horns that the word 'epic' simply doesn't do justice to. Finally these shores have unleashed a serious answer to Sigur Rós' unnerving, other-wordly dementia. Magical.

Following iLiKETRAiNS' set would be a catastrophic experience for most, but as veterans of the live circuit - is there anywhere that this band hasn't played? - British Sea Power really don't need to raise their game any more. In fact, it would be hard to imagine them putting on a show full of anything less than 110 per cent, such is their aura and naturistic wisdom.

You see, to British Sea Power, every one of their live shows is an event. Whether they're trying out new material for the first time in a backstreet alehouse in the East Midlands or headlining the Carling Stage at Reading, it really doesn't make one iota of a difference.

Without further ado, then, I guess there are a few questions that you want answering. Here goes:

Yes, they did manage to fit their foliage onto the tiny stage. Only just, mind.

Yes, it did seem a bit bare without Eamon, now departed to fully concentrate on Brakes.

And yes, the new material - or at least the five songs aired here this evening - is in many ways a bit of a departure from what we've come to expect from the band.

If anything, they seem to have upped the tempo somewhat and plugged in the distortion pedals, as 'Mary' and 'Open The Atom' are both frantic-sounding bursts of speed and distortion. The highlight of the new material this evening, though, is undoubtedly 'Lights Out For Darker Skies', where frontman Yan begins by asking if anyone has seen _The Invisible Man _before declaring himself the oldest rocker in town, somewhat apt considering the clientele. Moving along like a Proplussed Bunnymen, if this doesn't catapult BSP back into the upper echelons of the mainstream chart then I'm a monkey's uncle.

Elsewhere it's business as usual, with the delightful 'Carrion' and 'Lately' producing real moments of karaoke pleasure, so much so that during the latter song Yan simply turns the mic' stand towards the front row. Perhaps the only surprise tonight is that the underrated Open Season album - apart from one or two fairly obvious exceptions - is virtually ignored, maybe suggesting that the band themselves weren't entirely happy with the record (a la their more damning critics).

Nevertheless, tonight will go down as one of those 'I swear I was there' moments, if only to clarify the arrival of the best live band in Britain and to confirm the re-emergence of the post-millennium generation's one and only truly eccentric and maverick collective.