Album: The Coral

Although it was a boon in an age as creatively bountiful as the 1960s, being prolific is less of a plus factor in the new millennium, as a glance at the career of Ryan Adams attests. In his case, the rot set in around Demolition, his out-takes compilation - which ought to have set alarm bells ringing for the Coral, who follow up last year's hit-laden Magic & Medicine with this budget-priced, limited-edition stopgap album, whose charms are rather less abundant. Recorded live in the studio in one week, it boasts the usual dazzling array of instrumental strategies, but the songs lack the impact of those on its predecessor. Too many are aimless, and too few have the kind of melodic distinction that burned songs like "Pass It On" and "Don't Think You're the First" into one's consciousness. The closest they come here is "Sorrow or the Song", with James Skelly's wistful vocal traversing the album's most memorable tune; but with typical restlessness, they can't resist breaking it down as soon as it's established. Elsewhere, "Migraine" is modelled on "White Light/White Heat", "Lover's Paradise" is a 1950s pastiche, and "Song of the Corn" has a sinister Wicker Man bucolicism about it. Overall, the album is best regarded as the Coral's Basement Tapes, a collection of off-the-cuff songs of ingenuous charm and scant rationale. But less genius.