The Coral

Forget Radiohead and their intermittent excursions into tuneless self-parody. Since the demise of The Beta Band, the most excitingly innovative band in the UK at the moment has to be The Coral. No frills, no gimmicks, no press conferences ensuring they're seen at the right charity events, just a bucketload of tunes and so much more...

Next month sees the release of the band's third album proper (The Invisible Invasion), so as a taster they're playing a handful of low key shows in smaller venues, tonight being the first.

The most noticeable thing about the band tonight is the confidence oozing from each and every one of the band, as singer James Skelly strides up to the mic like an Adidas-clad Livingstone rediscovering the Zambezi. Guitarists Lee Southall and Bill Ryder-Jones follow a similar path, displaying the charismatic nonchalance of a latterday Richards and Jones, rather than the petrified nondescript aura of years gone by.

Tonight's set gives The Coral an opportunity to air material from The Invisible Invasion for the first time in a live setting, with nine songs in all making a confident and alluring debut. Wisely, the set is conducted around the tried and tested routine of playing an old one, then a new one, and so on, meaning there's never a moment for the band or the crowd to descend into a lull of indifference. Instead everyone's kept on their toes, starting with the band themselves, whose complicated arrangements veer from plaintive ballads to outlandish experiments in noise and confusion and vocal harmonies that would put G4 and their ilk to shame, and ensure a high level of concentration is paramount throughout. As for the audience, the setlist becomes a guessing game of what's next, and despite the omittance of 'Goodbye' no one goes home disappointed.

Of the new songs, at least half a dozen possess enough instant thrills to become singles, with the Teardrop Explodes-meets-The Doors mushroom crush psychedelic cocktail of 'A Warning To The Curious', Clash go scouse-a-delic (Liverpool Calling anyone?) blues rock of 'Something Inside Of Me' and Saddam baiting psycho waltz of 'Arabian Sands', with its key lyric "The madman's in the desert, look out behind you, the madman's in the desert, looking to find you..." proving to be the pick of an irresistible bunch.

Still, they say the old ones are always the best, and with 'Skeleton Key' proving as frantic as ever and the subtle strains of 'Shadows Fall', which Skelly dedicates to "anyone who bought our first EP" still ringing in everyone's ears, the words TRULY and SPECIAL somehow fail to do tonight's performance justice.

All in all then, a welcome return for a band who've been away for what seems like ages, and a healthy warning to all and sundry that their ever-changing swings of direction show no signs of grinding to a halt just yet.

Photographs courtesy of Mark Moore