Coral Reefers

As I sit down with three of The Coral’s six members, I notice a copy of Toploader’s new album Magic Hotel on the table. Foolishly, I ask whether this band likes that band.

“Christ no!” shouts Paul Duffy (bass/sax). “We just asked Sony had they got any freebies, and they gave us this.” Lee Southall (guitar) agrees. “Total ponces.” Nick Power (organ) also agrees. “Look at that band, the obvious band, with fucking mullets coming from everywhere. Horrible, horrible, soulless motherfuckers.” I wonder: what do they really think?

With all members aged between 18 and 21, The Coral are refreshingly unconcerned with eggshell-treading PR decorum and are outspoken about everything, what they hate as well as what they love. And it is this enthusiasm, together with significant and precocious musical talent, which has placed their star firmly in the ascendant on the British music scene.

Their singles and Mercury-nominated debut album have already received huge plaudits in the UK press, a remarkable fact given that The Coral’s sound couldn’t be further removed from the genres du jour currently approved by that venerable institution’s ministry of hip. Sidestepping the standard guitar/bass/drums format, the Merseyside sextet use horns, Hammonds, layered vocal harmonies and kitchen-sink percussion to create psychedelic anthems and bizarre sea shanties which stick out in the dreary alternative scene like clowns at a funeral.

“I reckon there’s something... I don’t know, German about indie,” Paul explains. “There’s no rhythm in it, it’s all moaning over distorted chords.” The band didn’t decide to go against the grain for some political, subversive agenda; they simply happen to have no interest in or love for the types of music which are considered current.

Indeed, most of the other bands The Coral have been compared with were at their zenith before the six Scousers were even born: Pink Floyd, The Doors, Love, The Beatles, Captain Beefheart. And while the boys do like all these acts, they only started listening to them after The Coral’s identity had been forged. “It was all just naturally in our heads,” says Nick. “It might be [because of] where we live, but we just connected to that sound before even hearing it.”

Mind you, it was not always thus. Believe it or not, the band formed over five years ago, when some of the members were barely into their teens. “We were completely different then. We sort of sounded like The Verve, and we played loads of Oasis covers,” admits Lee. So how and when did the changeover occur?

“About three years ago, Alan [Wills, of The Shack] just walked into our praccy rooms and told us he really dug our stuff, but we needed to find our own sound more,” says Nick. “He told us that he could sign us there and then, or he could leave us alone for a while to work on the material, and then come back and sign us.” The Coral chose the latter. They shut themselves in for a year and a half, writing constantly, playing no gigs, working part-time to fund rehearsal and demo-recording time.

They emerged triumphant. The new material was bizarre, inventive and compelling, and Wills had no trouble signing the band to Deltasonic. They recorded the album with Ian Broudie of The Lightning Seeds in the producer’s chair. The band were delighted with him. “He didn’t completely produce it, you know, he let us contribute. But he’s really got something else to bring, amazing musicianship, boss ideas.”

Since then they’ve been touring heavily, notably in the NME Carling gigs with Andrew WK, Lostprophets and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. “It’s hard work,” says Paul. “Fun too, but it ends up being a bit Groundhog Day, the same procedure every single day. It’s good for a few weeks, but we’d never do one of those ten-month tours like Travis or REM.”

But what if the band really takes off (and all signs so far point to this); won’t the label insist on a major international tour? “Nah, fuck it,” dismisses Lee. “We’re the band, you know? We can do what we want.” Ah, the innocence of youth.