by Eduardo Rivadavia In a post-hardcore scene awash with mindless imitation, St. Petersburg-based quintet Oceana proves that you don't have to look that far for inspiration to stand out from the post-hardcore herd. In their case, all it took was staring at the sea whilst concocting their atmospheric first album, The Tide, which doesn't even devote that much lyrical imagery to the briny blue, so much as absorb its fluid immensity into what might otherwise have proved an utterly predictable genre exercise. Primarily, we're talking slower tempos and orchestrated ambient nuances layered across token tracks like "The Portrait," "Hello, Astronaut," and "Anthlophobia," which are more likely to be enjoyed with headphones, sitting on a comfortable couch, than bouncing off one's bedroom walls. The energy level is boosted for rare adrenalin jolts like "The Accountable" and "Escape the Flood," but these only prove that such heightened activity is not the band's forté -- nor are their vocals, which are primarily handled by a nondescript, sometimes weak-lunged screecher, or turned over to thankfully sporadic clean choruses (see the closing "Reach for the Sky"). In other words, there's lots of room for improvement, but at least Oceana showed enough vision to try and be different with The Tide; let's see where they take it from here.