Photography: Adam Faraday

It's always nice to be granted the opportunity to give props to music-makers from some of the less celebrated nooks of the planet. Y'know, push aside the same old faces from the same old places. Safetyword originated on the Isle Of Man, which is – granted – part of the British Isles, but when was the last time it spawned a band featured in Plan B? Or anywhere?

Anyway, the band moved to Bristol some time after releasing their first EP in 2003, where they have flourished amid a scene of creative and art-proud musicians. "You could be cynical and think that the Bristol scene – as we know it – is false or affected because it lurks so left of middle, but it just isn’t. It's honest music and that’s why it works," asserts Rob Smith, vocalist, guitarist and lyricist in the quartet. In truth, Safetyword could have moved between any two points on the globe and this would still sound like gleefully displaced, geography-skiving music.

Safteyword's sound jigs, hot coals-style, at the point (of a guitar) where the poppy end of prog and the proggy end of pop meet. Captain Beefheart seems to get mentioned fairly regularly but, as is usually the case, that's less because they sound like him and more because it's the default reference point for dem goldarned semi-improv oddballs, who don't even have the common decency to let us understand what their songs are about.

There are certainly names worth tossing around, though: Deerhoof, The Red Krayola, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Robert Wyatt and his broad legacy, The Cardiacs, Ivor Cutler. Things endemic to the American underground rubbing up against things dubbed 'inherently British', whatever that means. Put your flags away – forever.

self-sabotage
The debut Safetyword full-length, Man's Name Is Legion (like all their CDs to date, self-released – although Static Caravan are due to issue a seveninch) is deliciously packaged in card and wax paper that rubs off on the disc, a fluid, unpindownable joy to listen to and the product of a band challenging themselves at every turn.

"Struggling to play the new one? Good!" is how Rob recalls it. "We got into the habit of chiseling away until only what was necessary to carry the song would remain. Often we go too far and have to reattach lumps. Above all it's about melody, to which all is sacrificed."

The album is bolstered by a number of hired helpers – intermittent sax blare from Mike Seed and engineer Tom Bugs (look up his handbuilt FX pedals and experimental releases as Knowledge Of Bugs). "The help we have received from Tom and countless others has kept us afloat; it’s very nice to receive this help off the back of the music rather than any sort of favours or payment."

telling stories
Dimensions extend themselves on perusal of Smith’s lyrics. They're somewhat comparable to Joanna Newsom in the archaic choice of words and frequent recourse to assonance and extended rhymes, but pointedly non-personal.

"I'm only really there in the playfulness of the arrangements and the odd bit of confessional prosaic nonsense. Most of the themes are from books: odd characters, stories, devices, occurrences. I've got a list of topics that I'd want to write songs about: it's as clinical as that. I just arrange facts and figures so that they rhyme. Anyway, someone has to write about this stuff, it’s too rich a seam to leave unmined."

In all seriousness, we are long overdue a song toasting, "1957 BBC with Richard Dimbleby and the spaghetti trees in the black and white photograph of the Swiss family". (Look that up while you're about it.)

the company you keep
This may well, of course, be your first encounter with Safetyword, but for a band who to date have operated with an avowedly DIY copybook, what they have managed to achieve is heartening. Turning themselves from freshly transplanted Manx indie timeshifters into towering Bristolian cataloguers of the curious has been a slow process, but a rewarding one.

"It turned out to be an ace year for us. We got a few gigs with touring bands, notably Hot Club De Paris who took us on tour, and who we are immensely indebted to. Playing Venn festival was a big step; to be involved in such a celebratory leftfield festival indicated that we’d been accepted on our own terms." A rare example of music world meritocracy, perhaps. Safetyword seriously deserve any number of leg-ups.