These young Merseysiders may want to forget their first trip to Brighton.

Their oddball, disjointed sound did not win over this good-sized crowd, which had been drawn by a good deal of hype.

For me, The Coral still rank as one of the most inventive rock bands to emerge in this country in the past year.

In the absence of support band The Music, who were forced to pull-out of this NME-sponsored tour, the warm-up acts were poor.

The Coral needed to seize the moment - instead, they made a shambolic start. They shuffled around, then did Spanish Main, which lasted only 60 seconds and added to the air of uncertainty.

It wasn't until their fourth song, Bad Man, that they really settled into their madcap blues.

James Skelley's voice grew in strength and he grew in confidence, wielding the maracas and throwing himself around like Scooby Doo after a double espresso.

Seashells followed with its crooning verse, thrashy chorus and reggae ending, - a signature for their wilful eclecticism.

But Skeleton Key was the highpoint of the set, a slice of gruff lunacy which was inspired partly by Captain Beefheart and, perhaps, partly by Captain Pugwash.

Just as momentum seemed to be building, Skelley was riled by a bit of heckling. A wag yelled "Got any Bunnymen songs?" and Skelley told him where to get off.

Then, a bit lamely, he explained: "I don't like being patronised."

I don't want to encourage heckling but this one had a point. The Coral's more tuneful, romantic songs - such as terrific new single Goodbye - are clearly influenced by fellow scousers Echo And The Bunnymen, and Skelley needs to expect jibes of this sort.

Earlier, they had crashed through a note-perfect cover of Teardrop Explodes' Reward.

It was a mistake. Covers, especially when they are as well-known as this, are best left for the encore.

Played half-way through a set, they can disrupt a band's efforts to interest a crowd in their own material - especially material as quirky as this.

Reward was like a TV commercial in the middle of an intense drama - it broke a spell that was only just beginning to take hold.

After 35 chaotic minutes, The Coral decided to give up and get back on their tour coach. Sure, these lads are awkward, raw and a tad over-sensitive but I'm still looking forward to the first album.

Review by Andy Fisher, features@theargus.co.uk