Album Review: The Coral – Move Through The Dawn


Move Through The Dawn




Ordinarily, if a band take a ‘hiatus’ it’s the beginning of the end.

Often it will become permanent, or if they do return and record more albums it will likely adhere to the law of diminishing returns; there is a posse of ragamuffin, cosmic psychedelic scousers that would take offence to this statement.

As is gospel, The Coral Aren’t Like Most Bands. With an impressive output of six albums in eight years, in 2010 they went on a break to pursue other projects. Being them, even during the sabbatical they released a ‘lost’ album, then in 2016 returned to the fray with the garage-pop of Distance Inbetween. Again, most bands would come back sounding like themselves, yet this album was anything but. Keeping up?

Terrifyingly, Move Through The Dawn is The Coral’s ninth effort, and they have been remarkably consistent across their canon. From the sea-shanty psyche of their self-titled debut, through avant-garde (Nightfreak And The Sons Of Becker), wistful folk (The Curse Of Love) and lots of stop-offs in between, it’s been an interesting trip. And they’ve broadened the pallet once more with this latest offering, with several pleasant splashes of colour across the record, but ultimately this, based as it is around melody and melodrama, could only be The Coral.

Recent single Eyes Like Pearls is a Richard Hawley-assisted step into their latest world. James Skelly has always had an under-rated voice, his tones perfectly fitting the gliding opener, while Reaching Out For A Friend sustains the pace but adds more weight. Occasionally it veers into the Travelling Wilburys, but there’s no group with a better pedigree.

Sweet Release is a step back into their last sound, its fuzzy rhythm guitars making it something of an oddity here, but is no less a good tune for that. It doesn’t really go anywhere but is so water-tight as to be compulsive. Love Or Solution also harkens back, the inflection and melody akin to the joyful parts of Magic & Medicine. It’s an introspective love song, questioning the societal rules of settling down and sounding like Del Shannon in the process. The Coral have always had open ears. Splendid stuff.

There isn’t an ounce of fat on Move Through The Dawn. Eyes Of The Moon should by rights be another minute longer than it is, the haunting flute breathing throughout the track giving glimpse of ideas abandoned. Likewise, Undercover Of The Night (sadly not a Stones tribute) is little more than a short but sweet chant, adding layers to the music as it ticks along. Outside Of My Window sounds huge, reminiscent of the drama that Phil Spector incorporated into pop music, and Stormbreaker puts the bass, so steadfastly and consistently supplied by Paul Duffy, the unsung hero of the band, high in the mix, both holding the song together and standing out from its foreboding company. It stomps whilst simultaneously kissing the sky.

The Coral have never been bothered with trends or music fashion, always operating on their own terms, both keys to their longevity and earning them national treasure status.

Long may they go against the grain.



(Richard Bowes)


Learn More