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π—–π—Όπ—»π—»π—Όπ—Ήπ—Ήπ˜†β€™π˜€ 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 - this week: Dreams by Coumarin

Updated: Feb 18

Welcome all to π—–π—Όπ—»π—»π—Όπ—Ήπ—Ήπ˜†β€™π˜€ 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly - an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of π™‰π™šπ™¬ π˜Όπ™§π™©π™žπ™¨π™© π™Žπ™₯π™€π™©π™‘π™žπ™œπ™π™© playlists.


π˜Ώπ™§π™šπ™–π™’π™¨ - π˜Ύπ™€π™ͺπ™’π™–π™§π™žπ™£


Charles has had enough. He flies to where the air is thin, and leaps! It is in this temporarily suspended moment that the following takes place.


My eyes are tightly shut. My ears stretched wide open by the plunge generously handed to me by the laws of physics. The clouds rupture and appear to unfold and open, as if to gorge me, whole. I peek to know if what I see is what I feel. It is real enough. Gravity has paused for lunch and forgotten about me. Vast, expansive sound emanates from these cumuli, still ever rolling and pulsing. This is where dreams turn to reality. I am in the safe hands of Coumarin, with their latest single, Dreams.


There’s no space for rough. No time for ragged. No place for imprecision. In Dreams - both song and nightly experience - there is rounded perfection, filmed from all angles and seamlessly edited. Hollywood was born from a dream, but we are lucky enough to have dreams every night. Germany’s Coumarin has made the sonic equivalent of Hollywood, and we can really relate. They seem to have managed something special here. Their rather simple instruments - guitar, bass, drums and subtle synth - amalgamate to make a truly modern sound that isn’t digital or electronic, and feels even more organic and pure than the wood of the unprocessed original…! Plucking a carrot from the earth cannot be more β€˜organic”. But imagine now if we could somehow make said vegetable even more natural… It would seem an impossibility. Yet this is what Coumarin has achieved with their sound.


Some might call this over-production. But we are all trying to achieve perfection, however close we get. They have come closer than I have ever heard before. The sound floats, yet is perfectly and maturely grounded at the same time. One might also feel to lump the band in with the likes of Coldplay, Feeder, Keane, Snow Patrol and even Bastille, but there is something truly special and unique here. Back to the sky we go.


After the bass and drums have grooved us through the intro, AndrΓ© Kretschmar shows off his experienced strength as the lead vocalist, cupping me in the palm of his hand and taking me through this stereo soundscape of rose-tinted clouds. The band is with us, but fifty yards behind, keeping an eye on any would-be dream intruders. NO ONE is going to wake me up. NO ONE is going to spoil this moment. They make sure of this. It is personal. It is huge. André’s bandmates realise the coast is clear; they run to catch up with us, and widen that already rich soundscape with subtle intensity and close harmony.


It has been a Roman road up to this point. We turn a corner to the chorus, as the sun bleeds through my soul like a fast yet painless rash. My heart pulses deeply with the bass and snare. My eyelids dissolve and all around is blistering silent fireworks. But all too soon the sun has sped through its daily cycle in an instant to reveal a dusky dark presence, with bright but distant stars winking and urging us to lower those now-returned eyelids. They are heavier than ever, yet the rest of my body feels feather-like.


This is sonic opium. The body is dead to the world, but feels lighter than air. The mind is thick with vivid contentment; the knowledge that I know more than most is enough to make me smirk. I am calm and relaxed, yet there is a viscous heat simmering and bubbling under the surface - less like a kettle, more like a volcano. I am pushed by all three members (only) once again into the sun. Lids off, fire crackers shooting both in and out of my eyes. My body is close to bursting, tight with veins and sinew pressing up against glossy orange skin. I am flying, chest forward, with turbo trails behind me, pushed by the band and pulled by the sun. The drug wears off quickly, as if God himself has pulled the cord. I am left as a floating foetus in the night sky, still suspended, never to fall. I am conscious, and I know I will grow again.


Dreams is a spectacular song by a band of true professionals. Let them be your dealer of dreams.


Listen to π˜Ώπ™§π™šπ™–π™’π™¨ HERE! (play loud through headphones for full immersive impact)


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