The Boat People are one of this country’s quiet achievers. Arriving on the scene with their Squeaky Clean EP of 2002, the casual listener might be surprised to learn that their newly-released album Dear Darkly is actually their third. And if the criminal neglect and underwhelming reception they’ve so far received in the music press has put The Boat People off in their artistic endeavours, they’re certainly not showing it on Dear Darkly.
At the risk of completely missing the point of this deeply-considered and pre-meditated record, it seems as though The Boat People have taken everything they’ve laid out on their previous two records, mushed it all up into musical plasticine and then attempted to pull bits out of it in every direction possible. The end result is a much more experimental and free-flowing experience than what we’ve heard from the Bribane collective in the past. The wailing, Dappled Cities-inspired rock of Soporific is vintage Boat People, but it fades into the multi-coloured harpsichord art-pop of Echo Stick Guitars.
Mainly they stick to familiar territory here but, as the album’s title would suggest, with a much darker edge. It’s like there’s nothing joyous left in James O’Brien’s life for him to wax so effervescently lyrical about anymore, and so the themes of Dear Darkly occupy a gloomier headspace. Even the upbeat Too Much In My Mind sees the singer getting down on himself: ‘Sometimes I wish my body was something that I didn’t need. It’s just a vessel for my brain, just another mouth to feed’.
Dear Darkly sounds like The Boat People have stopped caring whether or not they get high rotation on Triple J or nominated for the AMP. And typical of most artists, it’s when they’ve stopped caring about such trivialities that The Boat People have produced their finest work to date.
Jimmy Bollard

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