The Coral - Roots And Echoes

I first heard The Coral on the Conan O’Brien show, performing “Dreaming of You”. There was some indescribable quality about their clean, Britpop sound that resonated with me and I knew that this would be a band that I would stick with. Throughout my commitment, they have continually given me album after album of fresh and entertaining pre-psychedelic pop—music bottled at the purest fount of rock and roll.

In their new release Roots and Echoes, The Coral have moved away from a heavy Beatles and Donovan influence and seem to have taken their inspiration from Neil Diamond and Bread. The soft rock influence has appeared sparsely in other albums, but never as an over-arching musical theme. That is problem, because it is not what The Coral do best. Invisible Invasion and Magic and Medicine illustrated how well they make eclectic songs that are eerie and romantic, chaotic and catchy. Now although those and other albums were much more diverse, the band has never completed a work so grounded in a single musical and lyrical theme.

Don’t get me wrong; soft rock serves a good purpose. But, done incorrectly, it can become repetitive and boring, as it does through some of Roots and Echoes. The Coral need absolute freedom to perform at their peek. There is too much tightness in this album and not enough of the oddball, fun-loving rock that I have grown to love so much. The album is not horrible, but disappointing because I could recognize the great potential just behind all of it.

The form and delivery of the music becomes repetitive and songs lose their identity amongst those that surround them. I started the album, and before I realized what had happened, it was over. There was not enough substance and originality from song to song to keep me engaged and invested.

The only redemptive qualities of the album occurred when The Coral draw upon the qualities that made their other albums so unforgettable. “Who’s Gonna Find Me” begins the album with heavy guitar, clap-along beats, and bouncing organ notes. “Jacqueline” is a perfectly crafted pop-rock love song and “Music at Night” is a dark and mysterious cemetery walk of a song that is impossible to not engage. Unfortunately, these tunes could not save the drab simplicity of everything around them.

On the other hand, lyrically Roots and Echoes impacted me greatly. This album communicated beautifully what my friends and I wish we could communicate at all: the internal landscape of a young, single city-dwelling male. Echoes wonderfully displays the heartbreak, the angst, the confusion of falling in and out of love.

It begins with asking a very common question: “Six in the morning/There’s no one else around/Who’s gonna find me searching alone?” “Remember Me” delves into the desire to be noticed by someone, “I’d catch the bus there every Friday/Hoping to see her once again/Will she remember me?” “Cobwebs” tells of the maddening and sticky confusion one faces in times of lost love and the comfort given by introspection: “There’s a place where the music plays/I’ll meet you there at the end of the day/Who knows what she finds/In the cobwebs of my mind.”

As many know, girls come and girls go. James Skelly’s clear and strong voice sings, “Jacqueline…Don’t go” and only a few songs later, “You’re out of reach/You’ve built a wall I can’t breach/There’s no way through/Rebecca you.” In all my dating experience (which is relatively limited, I’m sure) I have learned one thing, which the album’s conclusion, “Music At Night” articulates so clearly: “Nothing seems right/Except for the music at night.” I may not always have love, but I’ll always have music. And that is great and necessary comfort.