The Coral
Nightfreak and the Sons of Becker

THE REVIEW

When the heart is a fluttering of wings and when the fingers are tiny indiscreet claws, then even the mouth turns into a beak and, with the greediness of a crow, I stick it into sparkling bazaars.

Fabrics with daring styles and voracious colors, tempting trinkets with attractive shapes, opals now iridescent now frosted, murmur, tread and then music, music, music…

…And dizziness…

The colorful displays of the Coral have always seduced my crow's heart. The debut (self-titled) where the taste for the '60s beat reverberated in a bold and fresh kaleidoscopic psychedelia, swirling and splashing around, whose foam fizzed with a thousand bubbles and as many stylistic influences.

And then the subsequent “Magic and Medicine”. More round and solid, perhaps more mature, certainly more bluesy, also enriched by vivid country-western shades. What they gained in cohesion, however, they lost in spontaneity, in the desire to amaze…

…And to daze…

My crow's heart rejoices now! In the backroom of their bazaar, among stock leftovers, it finds this EP of about twenty-eight minutes.

The light is dimmer here to be honest; the psychedelic knick-knacks are bathed in more shadows than in the past, but surprises abound and the attitude is rediscovered.

Bizarre sound shards where Kinks on methamphetamine lead the charge to gentle Love-like interludes, the most cunning Blur inflections give way to lo-fi outbursts that brush against punk, dreamlike vignettes awaken in soft Beatles-esque sheets.

Are they too derivative? Have they run out of the surprise effect? Isn't all that glitters gold?

What do I care, I joyfully hold this little gem in my beak! Is it true, is it false? Who cares! Today my heart is that of a crow, I love everything that glitters, that dismays…

…And that dazes…