Just had a review of our last show at The Smugglers Festival. Read the full article here.
Our excerpt reads:
After much sound checking, Cocos Lovers are introduced to the stage with the almost Spoonerist appellation of Low Cost Covers.
But there will be no covers tonight.
As readers of these pages will be aware, Cocos Lovers are a folk act with an ear for music from across the world. Their first album dwelt on roots music from America. Their second offering focussed on the sounds of Africa.
Tonight, the close harmonies sparkle, the violin and flute glisten with exotic charge, all driven by the energetic, innovative rhythms of the percussion. It marks a merging of the sounds from both albums with the band trying out much new material from their soon to be recorded third album.
One such song is what lead singer Will Greenham calls a ‘rave song’. But it’s like no rave song you’ve heard before. Though the pounding drums may beat out the same intense rhythms you might hear at Cream or Ministry of Sound, and the flickering lights do their bit, this still remains, most certainly, folk and world music territory.
New song or old, there’s a sense of joyous revelry about this band which makes them much loved in these parts. As with Will Varley before them, the crowd sing along to pretty much every lyric of the songs from albums one and two.
We can probably let them off for not knowing the words to the unreleased, unrecorded, third.
You could, in fact, be forgiven for thinking a much more famous band, with a much longer history, was on stage.
Cocos Lovers are proof, if ever proof were needed (and sadly, it is) that the contemporary folk movement is more than simply a load of Mumford and Son copyists playing their various interpretations of ‘Coldplay with banjos’.
Here there is a sense of excitement and exploration, the delight and warmth you won’t find anywhere near the contents of ‘Sigh No More’.
The encore sees Will Greenham dancing bare-chested like something of ‘The Wickerman’ to the sounds of ‘Old Henry Oak’ from ‘Johannes’. It’s an epic, Bacchanalian celebration, life affirming and hedonistic: something that, by rights, should never, ever end.