In the Morning

The organ comes in first, low and churchy, lending the opening a gravity that the rest of the song then deliberately undermines with a skipping, almost impish energy. There's a tension between the weighty soul-inflected production and the restlessness of the melody — it keeps wanting to run somewhere, to break loose from its own solemnity. James Skelly's voice is wiry and insistent here, pushing against the arrangement rather than floating over it. The song is about that particular anxiety of early morning, the moment before the day's demands fully arrive and you're briefly suspended between who you were the night before and who you'll have to be. The Coral were operating in a rich vein of British psychedelic pop revival in the early 2000s, but this track carries a slight garage roughness that keeps it grounded. It's the kind of song you hear through an open window on a street you've never been on and immediately want to find. Best suited for the golden hour between sleep and obligation, when the light is still forgiving.