Victory at Sea

Reflect on a band like Victory at Sea and the ocean metaphors roll in. They were timeless and powerful, comforting and familiar. In performance, their songs often surged past their own limits, sweeping up unprepared listeners. And, like other waves, they gently crashed, fanned out, and vanished without fanfare. But if the sea inspires one thing, it’s nostalgia, and after a dozen or so years of Victory at Sea’s producing songs that were stark and stormy, gloomy and aglow with hope, songs that couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else’s, it would be easy to dote on what once was and would be no more.

No need for that. This is the new year — and nearly a full year has passed since V@S ran their course. In their wake comes a trio of upstart bands as different as each member, and as intriguing as you might expect.

We’ll begin with the Men. Yes, the Men. On a cold drippy night in Allston, the members of the Men are huddled in the kitchen of Mad Oak Studios, reading from a scrap of aluminum covered in Sharpie scrawls.

“Math Potatoes!” “Bitch Corrector!” “Glass Napkin!”

It’s a comprehensive and cherished studio archive of potentially awful band names. For the five men of the Men, the name came as easily as agreeing not to disagree on which one of them was “the Man.” This magnanimous display of unanimity is at the heart of the fivesome’s MO. Their songs have the spontaneous celebration of high-grade pop punk, but with the meticulous neatness of something more consciously crafted.

“It’s been different because we all met through this band,” says Dave Norton, long-time V@S drummer. “It’s like, ‘Hi, nice to meet you. I’m gonna go do my tracks now.’ ” Which isn’t to say these guys are all business, but there’s a palpable sense of mission in the air of the kitchen. At least, that’s what I hope that is.

Fronted by former Lost City Angel Chris Duggan, with Kevin Smith on guitar, Nick (“Nick-Nick”) Hayes on keys, and J.R. Roach (formerly of Sam Black Church) on bass, Man aren’t a quiet group, but neither are they a one-trick pop-punk pony. Dusty-sounding pianos give “Me Against the World” a dash of barroom grit, Norton’s smart drumming refrains from spasmodic wailing, and Duggan’s hard raspy holler keeps things from getting too pop.

For a band so new, their momentum is freaky. Their first show was a sold-out affair at the Middle East upstairs last fall; the second was a CMJ showcase at Union Pool in Brooklyn. Next month, they’ll finish tracking tunes at Mad Oak, and a full-length will be on the way.

Meanwhile, Victory at Sea founding multi-instrumentalist Mel Lederman, who’s been backing Thalia Zedek of late, has adopted a straightforward new performing name — M.G. Lederman. “I feel like I’ve been struck by lightning,” he says over the phone. He’s talking about being smitten with someone, and when I ask whether that means no more sad songs, he lets out a laugh. “I don’t know about that. I’ll find something to worry about.”

The old adage about bands breaking up being like a relationship ending was literally true for Lederman and founding Victory at Sea mate Mona Elliott, since their separation coincided with the band’s. In the songs that Lederman pulled from the wreckage, he hits his low piano notes hard, Joe Wyatt makes his violin strings moan (or mourn), and Dave Norton keeps a hard, slow, “can’t go on, must go on” beat that’s as expressive as it is tight. Within this thick, sure swirl, Lederman’s quivering baritone plunges into growls, a voice gaining and losing charge of itself. “My songs are all reactions to things that are happening to me. And honestly, a lot of these sketches came from when I was freaking the fuck out.”

Although born of pain, the songs demonstrate refinement, opening up into beer-hoistingly bold arrangements thanks to contributions from Sam Potrykus (of Christians and Lions) jumping aboard on upright bass, Eric Provonsil (of Broken River Prophet) on lap steel, and Kristina Johnson (of Ho-Ag and Roh Delikat) providing vocals that land like the only light in a dark bar. Lederman writes smart break-up lyrics. They swerve between discomforting transparency and dark, complex humor — the kind where a laugh is a last resort.

“You can’t have a song called ‘Worst Birthday Ever’ and not have there be something kind of funny underneath,” he says. “I’ve always appreciated dark music because of how redeeming it can be.”

And Mona Elliott? She was the band’s most recognizable member, her crisp, chilly guitar lines providing structure for her mighty voice to tear through. As the textures of V@S grew ever more complex, her voice served as the constant — sometimes soaring like a lighthouse beam, other times sinking like an anchor.

Elliott’s new project, Travels, is a departure. For one thing, her voice is often braided with bandmate/beau Anar Badalov’s silkily plainspoken delivery. Badalov, formerly of Baltimore’s Metal Hearts, relocated to Boston shortly after he and Elliott fell for each other on tour, and shortly before Elliott was diagnosed with breast cancer — from which she’s made a full recovery. The home recordings that grew from this trying period glow with a radiant simplicity, minimally realized with just guitars, drum machines, and two voices. Elliott’s slightly lightened delivery and Badalov’s lilting indoor voice give the songs a domestic coziness.

Elliott declined to be interviewed, but she did send along a handmade edition of Travels, which is available at the band’s MySpace page. Each of the 10 tracks has a familiar spaciousness; what’s new is the delicate tension that tugs the songs along. The pair will trek to Europe in March for their very first show, part of a 26-day trip that starts in Amsterdam.