The Coral – ‘Sea of Mirrors’ / ‘Holy Joe’ album review: a record of amicable aimlessness
There’s an endlessly frustrating prospect attached to The Coral. The group has flashes of genius, which suggest they are standing on the precipice of greatness, yet, for some reason or another, they can never seem to take the fateful plunge. This time, the band gave themselves two separate cracks at delivering such a fall with Sea of Mirrors and Holy Joe’s Coral Island Medicine Show.
Both records come equipped with their almost distinctive flavours – think caramel and sea salt caramel – and a handful of tunes that will likely permeate their bulging setlists when the band make their obligatory appearance at your nearest festival next year. However, on the whole, it’s hard not to hear these records as two more albums have been released for the enjoyment of the fans they’ve already acquired.
Is that such a bad thing? After all, an artist and the group’s principal songwriter, James Skelly, should only be expected to deliver the work that aligns with their vision for the content. And, if you’re an ardent fan of The Coral, both of these records will deliver what the band has been providing for decades – an artsy folk sound coupled with the seaside sway of crusty indie via a faded western. The group have always aimed to feel like a comforting walk in the sunshine, but while pedestrianisation has its charm, there is a growing sense the group don’t exactly know where they’re going.
Sea of Mirrors does deliver one thing that was, more often than not, missing from The Coral’s output: a good polish. The band are more notorious for their rough and ready shenanigans than they are for the orchestral lusciousness that can be found in this record. ‘Cycles of the Season’ probably reflects this Beatles-adjacent approach best. ‘Wild Bird’ is another moment of string-led wonderment, even if it is tinged with a honky-tonk beat that feels closer to Oklahoma than Ormskirk.
There are other gentle nods to the past within The Coral’s album, too. The harmonies on ‘That’s Where She Belongs’ are enough to keep the heart warm, while the imagery provides another welcomed dose of sunshine. ‘Child of the Moon’ is another ditty that can bridge a generational gap with pure song-smithery. But the track also highlights the initial issue with the record.
The string sections are bountiful yet rarely potent enough to make a powerful impact. Lyrically, there is an inescapable feeling of dilution, with references to “sands of time” feeling like wasted seconds of airtime. The album’s closer, ‘Ocean’s Apart,’ is certainly brooding enough to cast grey skies over the horizon on the water, musically buoyant to sail upon them and sweet enough to counterbalance the salt in the air, yet there is something of the cruise ship in the chorus that is hard to escape, even if it does feature the wildly talented Cillian Murphy.
The other release coming to us from The Coral is Holy Joe’s Coral Island Medicine Show — a physical-only release. It makes sense that this record should be a collector’s item of sorts. It’s far removed from what one might consider a standard Coral album. Though it may be flecked with the same fragrance of 2021’s Coral Island as well as being set on the fictional island, it’s a far more conceptual piece, relying largely on the welcomed narrator of Holy Joe as he takes us through the tracks as a lonely island radio DJ.
The album is similarly poised to fall between the cracks of any categorisation, yet with a whole heap more cowboy cajoling. ‘The Sinner’ is the first taste of this as Skelly rattles out his best Johnny Cash-cum-Merseyside impression. The LP follows this tradition as each track unfurls, showcasing a troubling world of hellish touring and hotel room stays all within the guise of a honky tonk folk tale via Barry Island in Gavin and Stacey.
James Skelly has previously described Sea Of Mirrors as his version of a soundtrack for “an Italian western directed by Fellini with a Richard Yates-written script”, going on to give a nod to Lee Hazlewood’s 1970 TV soundtrack, A Cowboy In Sweden, as another jumping off point for the record. One would assume much of this is also found in Holy Joe’s Coral Island Medicine Show too.
The influences on show are right on point. With that line ringing in our ears, seeing anything else in front of us as the music plays is hard. But those influences may be the best part of the albums, and the pictures soon run out. Without the visuals, this imagined soundtrack feels more lifeless than it should. It falls between the tectonic plates of genre, style and influence to deliver little direction beyond falling into the magma of modern music.
If you’re a longstanding Coral fan, then floating through the mists of time as the band soundtrack your every move is likely to be a bonus. Their unique blend of sonic structures has often provided some of the best pathways to enjoy languid journeys for their listeners. After all, as the group themselves say: “To drift is to be free.”
These albums are not without their moments of joyful brilliance or saccharine sweetness., but we’re just waiting for The Coral to find their way and finally reach their destination.
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