New Model Army’s Agenda: Disrupting the Darkness

New Model Army does not see a thousand points of light when it turns its gaze over the Western world’s cultural landscape.

But in songs that are intelligently conceived and ferociously played, the rock band from Bradford, England, does an unusually convincing job of standing to curse the darkness.

On their latest album, “Thunder and Consolation,” songwriters Justin Sullivan and Robb Heaton portray a society in which the bonds of family have been shattered, leaving individuals to pursue their interests in greedy competition while commonality and fellow feeling fall into eclipse.

For drummer Heaton, who spent much of 1988 living in Costa Mesa, that dim view of people set against each other in suspicion and economically founded rancor didn’t exactly brighten when he went to the coastal rocks near Laguna Beach to try his luck fishing.

Heaton recalls that the fish were biting that day. But so was one affluent neighbor who didn’t like the sight of three long-haired fellows casting from the rocks in front of his beachfront home.

“This old guy comes out and says, ‘You’ve got to get off those rocks, it’s private property,’ ” said Heaton, who will be back in Orange County on Thursday when New Model Army plays at the Coach House.

“We said, ‘You can’t even see us from your place. What harm could we do? We’ll even give you some of the fish.’ ” The man threatened to call the police, and Heaton and his friends moved along before the situation became even more unfriendly.

Heaton’s Orange County experiences were not all so unhappy. “I met a lot of very nice people who haven’t got much money,” he said, “but they’re enjoying themselves and they made me feel very welcome.

He forged his Orange County links a few years ago during the band’s first U.S. tour when he met Robin Norris, a Costa Mesa woman who was active in a local grass - roots anti - poverty organization called Feed America. They were married in April of 1988 and moved to England in October when the time came for Heaton to rejoin New Model Army for work on the band’s latest album.

For New Model Army, embarking on family life is a way of holding a flickering flame to the darkness. But Sullivan, the band’s singer and lyricist, said it is nothing to get too hopeful about.

“In our culture, family is dead,” he said in a separate interview. “We killed it with our stressing of the sanctity of the individual. We don’t really have a society. We have a lot of individuals rushing around trying to justify themselves. I’m lucky that I do have some sense of family, a sense of belonging that I carry around with me forever. But most people I know don’t have that.”

The strength of New Model Army--the name comes from the Puritan army that took on the British monarchy during England’s civil war in the 17th Century--is not to suffer its deep sense of alienation quietly. Formed in 1980, the band plays highly aggressive but well-honed rock that blends the drive and rumble of punk rock with acoustic folk strains.

By hitting with sufficient force, New Model Army avoids lapsing into the depressed lethargy that its bleak perceptions might otherwise suggest. Instead of taking perceived tragedies and injustices lying down, the band rails against them.

In the memorable concluding verse of “I Love the World,” Sullivan imagines himself staggering to the top of a hill after a nuclear cataclysm. Dying from radiation poisoning, he delivers a final condemnation and affirmation: “I told you so/Oh, God, I love the world.”

Sullivan said he holds out little hope that a saving sense of community will arise before some sort of disaster strikes.

“I don’t think (effective community feeling) can be put in place until the next big squeeze comes--war or famine or disease,” he said. “Then people will be put in a position of responsibility for each other. Not by choice, but as a necessity.”

A miniature community of sorts has sprung up around the band, like a scaled-down version of the Grateful Dead’s traveling legions of fans. New Model Army, which is popular enough in Britain to play theaters of 2,000 to 5,000 seats, has found that its tours of England and the rest of Europe attract a number of followers who literally do follow the group from show to show.

“We have several hundred people who travel around from town to town,” Sullivan said. “A lot of the following of the band that we have in Europe is a search for family--but it’s a poor substitute (for a real family).”

Sullivan said he doesn’t care to further analyze this bonding of fans around the band. “The best thing we can do is stay out of it. It’s theirs, not ours. The relationship between us and them is a strange one. The less it’s explained, the better. That’s what families are--you don’t have to explain things.”

Heaton said the notion of “Thunder and Consolation,” a title drawn from a 17th-Century Quaker tract, parallels what happens between New Model Army and its fans.

“All rock music is thunder, this big loud drum pounding through the PA system,” he said. “But few bands write lyrics that invite people in, that say: ‘We’re all in the same situation.’ And we think our lyrics do that. We don’t offer any big answers. We haven’t got any philosophies or theories on how to see the world. But if you create an energy, a feeling in a song that creates thoughts in someone’s mind, then you can communicate.”

As for New Model Army’s goals these days, Heaton said, “it’s the same feeling as when we started. We still want to make the perfect record, play the perfect gig and meet people in the world who have the same values as us. Meeting like-minded people, you realize the world is not so big, and you’re not so isolated.”

New Model Army plays at 8 p.m. Thursday at the Coach House, 33157 Camino Capistrano, San Juan Capistrano. Tickets: $13.50. Information: (714) 496-8930.