Today, Time Out is at a TV studio on the South Bank for the filming of what some (okay, we) might say is the execrable ‘Friday Night Project’. For those of you who have thus far avoided it, this is the perfect storm of trash TV, a confluence of lowest common denominator televisual events which coalesce into a raging shit-blizzard capable of capsizing the happiest Friday night in. The show involves ‘comedians’ Alan Carr, Justin Lee Collins and their guest host – tonight it’s John Barrowman – performing lots of slapstick sketches, with Andi Peters and ‘Any Dream Will Do’ (don’t ask) judge Zoe Tyler playing a game called ‘Who Knows the Most About the Guest Host?’ and the latest ‘Big Brother’ evictee, running through the studio in a dress made from £5 notes until all the money has been torn off by the audience. You get the idea – it’s that sort of show. A shit one.
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Also here today are The Coral. Their role in all of this is to play brief snippets of their songs before and after the commercial breaks, to provide a soundtrack to the ex-reality TV contestant’s degrading dash through the audience and, as the credits roll, to perform their ace new single, ‘Who’s Gonna Find Me’. Given the occasionally over-painted picture of the band as being vehemently ‘anti-bullshit’, it’s the type of activity you might expect them to abhor, but today the mood is buoyant. ‘I don’t mind at all,’ chirps singer James Skelly (at 26, the oldest member of his band). ‘Playing music on telly, people seeing you… it’s good. We’re enjoying ourselves at the moment; everyone’s just a bit more hungry for it. It’s an attitude thing.’
Things are definitely different in camp Coral these days: you can sense it being around them, and you can definitely hear it on their fifth LP, ‘Roots & Echoes’. A much more streamlined, much more concise, much more soulful record than previous efforts, it is a record born out of the breathing space that the band allowed – or rather had to give – themselves following 2005’s ‘The Invisible Invasion’. Around that time, there were problems. Genial guitarist Bill Ryder-Jones had quit touring due to now-resolved personal difficulties (‘That’s between him and us, really,’ says Skelly simply and fairly, when asked about this); there was ‘too much weed being smoked’. There was also talk, briefly, of not carrying on.
However, with a little time, and a little encouragement from friends and admirers including longstanding supporter Noel Gallagher (who allowed them to use his studio, and attendant collection of fine vintage gear, for nothing), The Coral rediscovered the joy of writing songs just for the sake of writing songs. Gone, therefore, are the ‘mad bits’ (their words, those) that so characterised their work up until this point. Now there are simply 11 classic pop songs, all but two of which clock in at under four minutes. Next single ‘Jacqueline’ is like a sped up, Merseybeat version of Nick Cave’s gorgeous ‘Into My Arms’; ‘Rebecca You’ might just be the best thing they’ve ever done, while the likes of ‘Put The Sun Back’ and ‘Not So Lonely’ could sit unembarrassed amid a collection of Burt Bacharach’s finest moments. Melody is the key here. ‘After the last two albums, which were pretty mad and all over the place, we thought, there’s nowhere left to go that way – why would anyone want to hear another album like that?’ says Skelly. ‘You’ve got them albums and they’re boss, but this one’s more rounded. A good thing about us is we can take all kinds of different music and just make it accessible. We’re good at being accessible.’
Given that The Coral’s songs routinely mix psychedelia, sea shanties and Stones-y ’60s R&B, and the band’s influences are as diverse as The Upsetters, Frank Sinatra and the ‘Grease’ soundtrack’, you might not think of accessibility as their strong point. However, one look at The Coral’s track record – eight Top 40 singles and four Top 5 albums in just six years – certainly supports Skelly’s theory. On paper they’re one of the most successful British guitar bands of recent memory, and their influence on the bands that followed them, while perhaps not as tangible as that of, say, The Strokes, has been substantial. Yet were you to watch any of those seemingly now-daily ‘History Of Rock’ programmes, you’d be unlikely to see them featured, because the Accepted Lineage of this musical generation is now set in stone: it goes Oasis, The Libertines, Arctic Monkeys. The fact is, though, Arctic Monkeys’ Alex Turner has cited The Coral’s fuss-free approach as a model he aspires to (and given the endless attention received by his band, one he’s now no doubt envious of). And The Libertines? ‘Well, they were covering our songs,’ Skelly points out, diplomatically. ‘That says everything, doesn’t it?’
The Coral take an admirably relaxed view to the lack of recognition they’ve received for opening so many musical doors. Especially considering that, back in 2002 when they arrived, British guitar music was in a far less healthy state – or financially healthy state, at least – than it is now.
‘It did used to do me head in a bit, but not anymore,’ says Skelly. ‘I mean, there’s journalists’ bands who are a good story, and there are, y’know, people’s bands. I guess the people who like our tunes are not the sort of people who are gonna write into a magazine, or maybe work for a magazine. You don’t have to have someone’s name tattooed on your dick to be into their tunes. Everything doesn’t have to be a massive statement. Y’know, I like The Libertines, but even they must be bored shitless of all the stuff about them. Arctic Monkeys? It would have freaked me out being where they are now.’
James Skelly pauses. ‘I’d rather be in our position,’ he says, before going off to remind a few more people – albeit via the medium of a trashy TV show – just how special his band are. ‘I’d rather be in The Coral.’
‘Roots & Echoes’ is released on Deltasonic.
