Call me Gilligan, the sea's endless rhythm

The Coral is sun-drenched, scorching heat -- the kind that makes the sand waver in bad mock-western movies, the kind that sweats. Not dusty, or arid, but barren with the illusion of something just off to the right in the distance. It's brown leather boots and blue jeans and the city guy lost in the desert with a set jaw and strong brow, dark hair, pretending to be a cowboy. \nAnd that's just the guitar tone.\nThe Coral's bevy of young rock-driven malcontents has gone West, bringing xylophones, pieced-together layers with no feather on the blending, eerie whistles, hollers and a disco beat. The music is composed well enough to witness the whole and it's parts in one listening without crumbling. It reeks of spirit and style -- be it uncouth worn down teenage wear -- and shows how rock and roll's not so bad after all.\nThese Brit boys range in age from 18 to 20 and their creative process shows the age. Not in a fresh to the scene noticeable way, but in the method of teenagers who sleep less and play more. The music has an energy that will speed listeners to 80 mph, and have them running past roadblocks and avoiding the destination. This debut album was released last July in the UK, reaching official distribution in the States just last week. \nAt it's best, James Skelly's raspy vocals make a proclamation on their own. Back it with the plodding bassline of Paul Duffy's baritone sax and listeners will understand why this band is good. When any other band would make a lovelorn, basic rocker with bassline, drums and distortion, The Coral puts out the same idea with an organ intro and doo-wop backup vocals. \nIt's the piecemeal arrangement of an artist's collage with the rare trait of actually looking good. There's three-part vocal arrangements with the tone of old men singing sea chanteys, backed by one echoing harmonica note and the same desert-guitar and percussion that really moves. What makes it work is texturizing the single parts by throwing a bunch of them together. It's part sci-fi movie, part bad poetry, part wild west, part old man wisdom, part pop. The band covers themes of longing and need, and spins stories of the disenchanted and fallen spirits into imagery every other song or two. \nWhile The Coral's music pulls in so many directions, all meeting on the outskirts and thrust listeners back towards the center. Hymn-like three part vocals are backed against a distortion driven chorus. The Coral spins toward ethereal then rides back on punched snare beats and energetic rhythms. Melodies are fleshed out with horns, organ and auxiliary percussion. \nThe mixture is progressive -- whenever it seems the music is heading one way, 30 seconds later the musicians in The Coral spin off at a 45 degree angle. Then they'll revisit the main theme, leave it again and head for something else completely different. The Coral's uniqueness isn't only based in layering different sounds but also not knowing what comes next. \n"Time Travel," hidden on the end, is sincerity mixed with reggae beats, a Bob Marley dub cover, vibraphone and this spectacular muted, echoing trumpet. "If you had to prove to Jesus Christ is no more of a man than you or I, would you tell the people would you try to deceive, for fear of undermining their religious belief," Skelly sings. It eschews anything socially correct while telling people to believe in something real. In five minutes, it wraps up why The Coral will not be satisfied with making music that sounds normal and no one should ever want to hear it if they did.