MOST bands spend their entire careers trying to break out of the village hall circuit, but not British Sea Power.

Limbering up to the launch of their second album Open Season on April 4, the Lake District five-piece decided to drop anchor in Grasmere.

"Maybe we've got it all wrong," laughs lead singer Yan. "Maybe we've got it all back to front. But the smaller places always turn out really good in the end like this one hopefully."

Over the past two years BSP's nostalgic charm and English eccentricity have seen them hailed the Best Band in Britain while their sideways swipe at pop has garnered them a celebrity following, including heavyweights Jeremy Vine, Lou Reed, Julian Cope and Damien Hirst.

They have toured with The Strokes, Interpol and The Killers but somehow have missed out on both mass recognition and riches - something this album may change.

"I think this album is better than the last," asserts Yan. Or, as bassist Hamilton predicts, it will appeal to fewer weirdos'.

Plundering girls, guillotines, love and collapsing ice shelf Larsen B for lyrical fodder, Open Season is softer, less angular than their 2002 debut The Decline of British Sea Power.

"We wanted more of the others (rockier tracks) but they never worked out," says Yan. "We were going to have a rock album, not rock like Aerosmith," he laughs, "Like Pavement, but it just didn't happen."

According to the NME, with Open Season, British Sea Power have finally started to make "proper pop songs" and, according to Yan, they might just be right.

By 8.30pm, little-known Grasmere duo The Witch and The Robot were warming things up. People were taking guesses on who was the android and who was the heretic, but just when they thought they had the witch pinned, he started to dance like a deranged R2D2. "Goodnight Grass Vegas" yelped the witch, or the robot. And with this the night continued as it was set to go on surreal.

Wearing their Famous Five finest, BSP hit the foliage-strewn stage. With one plastic magpie watching over them for luck, they ploughed into the pixiesesque Apologies To Insect Life before reaching for the latest material. Leaving Here jangled like loose change with a heavy nod to Belle and Sebastian while the rolling and windswept landscapes of Like A Honeycomb could possibly be the most beautiful pop song ever written about beheaded lovers.

While during Larsen B, Yan sings: "My favourite most foremost coastal Antarctic shelf/Oh Larsen B you can fall on me/Oh Larsen B desalinate the barren sea."

One hour-and-a-half later, most of the audience had packed onto the stage, a plastic heron and a small child were being passed around like a bad cold and band member Eamon, resplendent with tin hat, was crashing a dilapidated drum through the crowd. If this was pop then the future is bright.

It Ended On An Oily Stage the first single from the new album Open Season - is released on March 21.