Cut to the Chase: They're the band that everyone loves to hate (unless you're a student), but it The Coronas have pulled up their socks for album number two. Although it's far from classic material, it sounds like the Dubliners are eager to shake their 'indie heartthrob' tags and move on to more serious pastures. Much of the album plays it far too safe to win over their biggest critics, but it's not a completely unsuccessful bid to move forward.
They've come under heavy criticism since the release of their poor debut album in 2007, but one thing that can't be denied is that The Coronas sure know how to market themselves. Having played extensively in all four corners of the country - at racecourses, GAA clubs, universities, pubs, venues - and had their songs on heavy daytime radio rotation, there's few Irish music fans who aren't aware of the Dublin foursome by now, whether you love or loathe them.
Well, get this - their second album, recorded in a remote Cornwall studio with respected knob-twiddler John Cornfield - isn't a bad effort at all; that is to say that it starts off strong, and ends somewhere around the 'mediocre' position. Certainly, opening track 'Won't Leave You Alone', a song driven by bouncy guitar work and Danny O'Reilly's suggests that The Coronas are eager to move on from the hollow immaturity and songs about J1 summers that informed their debut. O'Reilly's swarthy voice has matured too: it's about the best thing on most of these tracks, particularly showing its range on the gently rollicking 'Far From Here' and peppy lead single 'Listen Dear'.
It's a shame, then, that the second half of the album falls into the trap of pedestrian ballads with cheesy guitar riffs (particularly on the title track) - a ploy that that will keep their current fans locked-in, but won't win them any new ones. 'Faith in Fate' in particular is a predictable string-laden love song that offers nothing new, as is emotion-fest 'Someone Else's Hands', which comes in far too early in the album's tracklisting.
Nonetheless, working with someone like Cornfield means that The Coronas have been forced into a new level of professionalism, and it shows on these eleven tracks. It's doubtful that 'Tony Was an Ex-Con' will change the opinion of their most resolute detractors, and it's not exactly revolutionary enough to change the world, either. Still, it's a somewhat steadying effort.
