With its thicker than an oil slick guitar riff, The Coral’s ‘Chasing The Tail Of A Dream’ was the first fresh breath we have heard from the band in over six years, asides from the rehashing of The Curse Of Love – what later became their 7th album. ‘Chasing The Tail Of A Dream’ was much more than a break though, it was a yell, a relentless call to arms. The Coral are back, with a sound that borrows more from the darker history of psychedelia rather than the youthful optimistic 60s tint that shrouded The Coral’s earlier material; the gloves are off and it’s hell to leather from here on in. Hang tight.

The Coral epitomised the Liverpool music scene from the early 2000s right up until their hiatus in 2011. They successfully hit the right notes with their début self-titled album, leading them to receive commercial success, particularly off the back of the Top Twenty single ‘Dreaming Of You’ which stuck about long enough to get a spot in the US comedy show, Scrubs. From here they pirouetted their way comfortably through country ballads (Magic and Medicine), psychedelia (Butterfly House) and soul-rock (Roots and Echoes). The Coral have been a band that, in the midst of their hiatus, have branched out as a band. Former bandmate, Bill Ryder-Jones has gone on to achieve success with a solo career that has dragged him in all sorts of weird and wonderful directions. Similarly, frontman James Skelly has coined his own project going by the name ‘James Skelly & The Intenders’ and on top of this has founded Skeleton Key Records – now home to the likes of Sundowners and Serpent Power. Busy boys. The Coral have unfortunately, in their absence, become a band that are taken for granted. Prior to this release, they have had a consistent release of records, averaging one every other year or so; a great feat in this do or die music lifestyle we live in. They have trumped the difficult second album and made Key lime pie of the third and after listening to Distance Inbetween, you can bet your bottom dollar that album number eight stands just as high as the rest. Step forward Skelly and co.

Britain has taken the plug out of its colourful, neo-psychedelic bath in the absence of The Coral over the past five years. Unlike the rest of the psychedelic leak, The Coral seem to have wisely taken a back seat whilst the likes of Temples and Toy sifted through fashion with their image-heavy appearances and jangly guitars. ‘Connector’ is the first glimmer that they are back on track on the new album, grasping at all things that Austin Psych Fest (Levitation Festival) has shown us with The Black Angels, Dead Meadow and Dead Skeletons. A heavier, darker side to The Coral has come out, cast out from the shadows bringing with it puncturing synth lines in the fashion of NEU’s Krautrock, merged with haunting vocals of some hypnotic, satanic proceeding. In a sense, that sun kissed glitz of Butterfly House has shimmered and gone out, what replaces the twinkle in the mind’s eye is now a glare, possessed by some three-headed demon. Something that is much, much more interesting. It carries with it more danger, more intrigue and presses the pulse a little more.

There is often a lean on the debased phrase of ‘maturing’ when bands go on to release a new album. Journalists shriek “oh, well they have matured”, it has become some drab saying that can suggest anything from growing a bit of stubble to writing music aimed at 40 somethings sipping tea and reading The Sunday Times. What The Coral have done by means of ‘maturing’ is taken a step back and removed the emphasis from jagged guitar lines, they have then projected this focus upon rhythms. The likes of ‘White Bird’, ‘Million Eyes’ and ‘Beyond The Sun’ borrow from tribal drumming patterns merged with bass that dances between the off beats, this causing for a new light and strength to be cast upon Skelly’s vocal melodies. ‘White Bird’ borrows as much from Thee Oh Sees and Ty Segall as it does anything else, jarring upstrokes play, collapsing in the middle of drums. ‘White Bird’ falls perfectly in line with ‘Connector’ and leads well for the boisterous ‘Chasing The Tail Of A Dream’ which follows.

All this heady psychedelia is not without nods to previous times of more optimistic, sun filled melodies. ‘Distance Inbetween’ certainly falls into a category that would make Richard Hawley smirk through hazy cigarette smoke and tilt his head in approval. Whimsical guitar lines slide between drums, once again demonstrating that the inclusion of guitarist, Paul Molloy (The Zutons) was a step in the perfect direction. His ability to sit back and tentatively wind his charm and soul through songs earns a thumbs up from all corners of the table. Bravo.

Elsewhere, Distance Inbetween bounces on the jolly, happy-go-lucky melody of ‘Miss Fortune’. Rightly picked for a single, this album is sincerely unafraid and unapologetic in everything it promises; it stands up with the likes of ‘Dreaming Of You’, ‘Goodbye’ and ‘In The Morning’ as one of The Coral’s greatest pop-psych singles. Vocals croon: “Ooh, she’s a mover / And she moves in and out of time” and you find yourself doing something similar.

The likes of ‘It's You’ demonstrate the ability that The Coral have generated over the years for a knack of essentially writing the perfect 60s-pop melody. Listening to this throws you back to the classic harmonies of Scott Walker et al. It could fit perfectly as the soundtrack to Goldfinger or Dr No, it combines lustful string sections balanced with cautious harmonies and little hat tilts to the likes of Arcade Fire along the way.

‘Holy Revelation’ points towards the heavy guitar based fuse which The Coral previously relied upon through the likes of Butterfly House and The Coral – it’s jangling, loose and something that I sincerely hope can be replicated live. On recording, it carries brash, bold statements – it matches the rhythm section for pace and direction, at times given free reign and at times tying in, threading itself through. If this isn't a mission statement from The Coral, I’m not sure what is.

Albums are rarely without faults and as much as you can sing the plaudits to the high heavens across the first nine tracks, towards the end, you can’t help but feel the party is going for just too long. The likes of ‘She Runs The River’ and ‘End Credits’ demonstrate that The Coral possess the ability to write the far-out, misty psychedelia songs that often take too much pride in themselves and provoke an urge of self-importance. Sandwiched between these two however is the bluesy, Stone Roses-esque ‘Fear Machine’, a glimmer within an otherwise setting sun. Clocking in at just under 45 minutes, The Coral have done it and overall, we should all be downright impressed.

If songs were dedicated to certain times of the day, The Coral can bend everything from the 5am crash outs (‘She Runs The River) to those that make you dance through your trousers and shirt in preparation for work. Songs such as ‘Miss Fortune’ certainly lie within the latter, essentially allowing you to finally dance and sing in the shower without being ashamed. The Coral have produced a comeback album worthier than the majority of new music you will hear throughout 2016. They have shown that patience truly is a virtue that is often unrecognised. Taking aspects from their history, they have manipulated and updated this, the 60s never sounded so fresh. It is interesting as an album, each song bears its own relevance and stands its ground and in terms of fillers, there aren’t many whatsoever – only those towards the back end mentioned previously. The Skellys, Paul Molloy, Nick Power and Paul Duffy have written an album that turns around and sticks two fingers up at those bands that are still mumbling along from the previous decade, this is a band with a rediscovered purpose and boy, you should be excited for this.
Tom Churchill

Website: thecoral.co.uk
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