British rockers Seafood return from times of trial with an effort more impressive than anything they’ve released to date. Coming off a reduced lineup, a change of label, and singer David Line’s recurring struggle with a collapsed lung, the hardworking band seems none the worse for wear. As the Cry Flows effortlessly adds bits of charm from folk and singer/ songwriter genres, granting the group’s more conventional indie rock a fresh new flavor and complexity.

Previously characterized by frenetic yelps and bursts of quiet/loud dynamics on their more memorable songs, Seafood has now continued the logical progression started on 2001’s When Do We Start Fighting with a more refined sound that cannot easily be ignored. The change in attitude is noticed right away. As the Cry Flows starts off with “I Dreamt We Ruled the Sun,” an ominous bass and drums combo propelling the ghostlike voice of Caroline Banks over the impending twang of guitars. The array of sound continues for a full five minutes, evidencing a new willingness to experiment uncharted territory. A pronounced guitar line struts over the sonic structure laid in place by a steady use of cymbal and keyboards, only to branch off on its own to underscore Banks’s haunting reentry. The Seafood of the past would never have done this, preferring to perhaps carry on in this manner for a minute or two before launching into quiet/loud dynamics and forceful verses. At the very best this opening track would have been placed dead last. Not so anymore.

All of this isn’t to say that Seafood has changed completely. “Heat Walks Against Me” sees the return of Line’s inflected falsetto, plodding along in a charming intro before launching into full-on bombast. “Good Reason” similarly kicks out the jams, much like past Seafood favorites “Guntrip” and “Belt.” But this new variety makes the band’s efforts all the more appreciable, and showcases it as a group that’s much better than most. “Milk and Honey” glides along on a lilting tempo borrowed from country or swing music. “Orange Rise” borrows the arpeggiated guitars of Travis and Coldplay, putting them to much better use on a pensive examination of Line’s life in light of his recent health problems. “I’m not expectant for the sun to shine/riding out this life of mine;” “running but we don’t know where/running cuz we’re both scared.” The scaling bass makes excellent percussion here, as the new fatalism of a life in danger hits home. The whole album is wrapped up by “Willow’s Song,” a tranquil wandering made perfect by its dual vocals and mystical humming.

Seafood has steadily evolved from a more typical indie rock band full of enthusiasm and energy, to a fully-formed group of artists not afraid to temper their sound with the light touches of other movements. The more livid moments on this release seem almost subsumed by the relaxed tones of the group’s more placid moments, but in truth this is not to bad effect at all. Now equal parts Nick Drake and Modest Mouse, this little-known group of rockers has proven themselves a capable outfit of talented artists.