On what seemed like a Friday (with Thursday being the new Friday 'n' all) Brixton was heaving, with a great mixture of people, young & old, cool & trendies.
We missed the support act due to my friend Cyl leaving the tickets at home, but after a double-ender of a train journey, we were all set. Within a mere 20 minutes of anticipation, THE CORAL casually breezed on stage like a gust of dark eerie importance and plugged into into a set lasting nearly an hour and a half set. It to proved to be an expedition into a kaleidoscope of conscious-expanding resonance.
Hailing from a town called Hoylake, on the Wirral Peninsula, clearly enjoying the odd toke or ounce, they are a true electic traditional work of genius. James Skelly fronts the band, singing in his own unique style, from solemn in one song, to powerful deep hooting in the next. It shows this band is definitely not a one trick pony. With brother Ian steady on the drums, Bill Ryder-Jones joins them on guitar, and blows his own trumpet from time to time. Nick Power sits alone behind the organ and adds his vocals when needed. Paul Duffy is the band's bass strummer and resident saxophonist with brother John leading percussion.
This is a real tight knit group of friends foremost and family.
A real sound of advanced years oozes from The Coral, even though the oldest band member is a grand old age of 24. The more you hear them, the more you realise these mellow chaps are gonna be around for years to come. As for style, it punches the audience in abundance. They zig-zag through their special off kilter pop in a sweeping frenzy from one number to the next. From weighty looming dub bass riddims to marooned moods and bullied blues.
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At times it is harrowingly haunting, other times sounding like blown-fuse, wig-out rock. With spooked hammond organ and James' melodica being put to full use. These days it seems this humble instrument is becoming fashionable again i.e Hard-Fi, The Magic Numbers. I remember at school this was like the triangle, you only played these instruments if you were naughty. Respect is due to the King of Melodica himself, Augustus Pablo.
A whole array of instruments are brought out from The Coral's formidable arsenal. Nick wasn't to impressed when a bottle of water hit his keyboard, but the situation was soon all cool again thanks to James calmly asking the crowd "not to throw water, as it could wreck all tha' gear" in that wonderful scouse tone.
They play with such a precise, ferocious velocity, yet at the same time with all the darkness of a moor hen. The Coral are a fantastically unlikely night out, but completely brilliant. They really are one of our most distinctive UK bands, soon to be revered as a national treasure.
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