CORAL - Magic And Medicine

In the frantic British industry of "next big things", the Coral's 2002 debut had shone only with the fleeting light of that "alternative" fifteen minutes of fame now granted even to the dullest of post-britpop outfits.

Instead, this second effort by the Liverpool band arrives, just a year after the release of their self-titled album, to show that Coral truly deserve a more attentive listen than the mass of "enfants prodiges" cluttering the pages of the music press.

If the debut album by these six barely-twenty-year-olds ultimately seemed limited by a certain urge to dazzle at all costs by mixing genres and styles, "Magic And Medicine" makes balance its true strength, without ever giving up the originality and eclecticism that set the band apart.

Frontman James Skelly's magnetic timbre, with his theatrical energy reminiscent of Jim Morrison, remains on this second album the unmistakable stylistic signature of Coral's music, capable of turning the most classic blues into an exhilarating ride or making an airy ballad unexpectedly dense.

The fascination with sixties music permeates the album's atmosphere from the very first notes of "In The Forest", where the warm, full chords of the organ conjure Doors-like ghosts of a forest of disillusion in which the mind ends up dissolving.

Ghosts destined to resurface more than once among the album's tracks, hinting at a darkness with a vaguely retro flavour, as in the nostalgic charm of "Secret Kiss", yet never falling prey to the trap of the already-heard.

We thus enter the Morricone-hued world of the single "Don't Think You're The First", complete with flutes and restless rhythm, before being won over by the acoustic arpeggios of "Liezah", which seems to emerge from a psychedelic dream of Donovan, while "Talkin' Gypsy Market Blues" is the most compelling apocryphal Dylan-esque blues heard in recent years, in perfect "Bringing It All Back Home" style.

Between the esoteric shadow of the magician Crowley, the gypsy fantasies of a maid named Maria and the jazz colourings that burst into "Eskimo Lament", "Magic And Medicine" retains its intimate cohesion while never ceasing to explore different registers.

Captivating and brazen at once, the Coral's melodies worm their way into the soul with the vitality of their many facets and the defenceless naivety of their lyrics, as if they came from some timeless dimension where Beck can comfortably sit alongside the Animals and Love.

No special effects or "cool" gimmicks, then, just a clean, crystalline sound in service of a songwriting vein as inspired as they come: perhaps not "a record even housewives can enjoy", as the band's guitarist Nick Powers was keen to point out, but certainly the confirmation of a talent that will be talked about for a long time to come...

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27/10/2006