Ladies and gentlemen, we are floating on lilos. Somewhere between Center Parcs in Nottingham and the white sandy perfection of Formentera reside two men dedicated to the art of horizontal dancing. Their mums call them Ampo and Timm (funny names, those Notts lads), though we know them by their collective name of Coyote. In their minds eye, it is 1986 and there are leathery looking Germans with alarming posing pouches dancing to Simply Red records on the shimmering terrace at Ku club while down the road Alfredo is building his legendary reputation at Amnesia. Apart from the clued-up few, most of the Brits are billeted in San Antonio where the beers are cheap and the sunburn is plentiful. Coyote’s music, despite being produced in the east Midlands conjures up a world of sun, sea and ’80s glamour, while still sounding very much like today. The dynamic duo first met at Nottingham’s Venus club in 1990 and have been pals ever since, working together under other long-since abandoned aliases in favour of Coyote. Half Man Half Coyote, the sequel to 2009’s Harlyn Bay, is a step forward for the boys in redefining the genre that dare not speak its name (the clue is in the name of their label). If you want priapic house, techno heavy baggage or anything in which the dial is cranked to 11, then please carry on walking: nothing to see here. But music fans enamoured of subtlety, primordial piano motifs, the distant echo of Apocalypse Now and the occasional outbreak of transcendental splendour, you’ve come to the right place. Nowadays, of course, the Ibiza of Ku, Amnesia and Glorys is a distant memory, long since sullied by the invasion of British promoters and the Spinal Tap of electronic music, the Swedish House Mafia. Coyote close their eyes, ignore the horrific reality and channel the spirit of Jean-Claude Maury, Jose Padilla, Alfredo Fiorito and Cesar through their keyboard controller and conjure a world of endless beauty, aided by LSD, Fortnum and Mason’s tea and the occasional Rich Tea biscuit. Bring your own beach towel.