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Blur

 

Biography by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

Initially, Blur was one of the multitude of British bands who appeared in the wake of the Stone Roses, mining the same swirling, pseudo-psychedelic guitar pop, only with louder guitars. Following an image makeover in the mid-'90s, the group emerged as the most popular band in the U.K., establishing themselves as heir to the English guitar pop tradition of the Kinks, the Small Faces, the Who, the Jam, Madness, and the Smiths. In the process, the group broke down the doors for a new generation of guitar bands who became labeled as Brit-pop. With Damon Albarn's wry lyrics and the group's mastery of British pop tradition, Blur was the leader of Brit-pop, but they quickly became confined by the movement; since they were its biggest band, they nearly died when the movement itself died. Through some reinvention, Blur reclaimed their position as an art pop band in the late '90s by incorporating indie rock and lo-fi influences, which finally gave them their elusive American success in 1997. But the band's legacy remained in Britain, where they helped revitalize guitar pop by skillfully updating the country's pop traditions.

 

Originally called Seymour, the group was formed in London in 1989 by vocalist/keyboardist Damon Albarn, guitarist Graham Coxon, and bassist Alex James, with drummer Dave Rowntree joining the lineup shortly afterward. After performing a handful of gigs and recording a demo tape, the band signed to Food Records, a subsidiary of EMI run by journalist Andy Ross and former Teardrop Explodes keyboardist Dave Balfe. Balfe and Ross suggested that the band change their name, submitting a list of alternate names for the group's approval. From that list, the group took the name Blur.

 

"She's So High," the group's first single, made it into the Top 50 while the follow-up, "There's No Other Way," went Top Ten. Both singles were included on their 1991 Stephen Street-produced debut album, Leisure. Although it received favorable reviews, the album fit neatly into the dying Manchester pop scene, causing some journalists to dismiss the band as manufactured teen idols. For the next two years, Blur struggled to distance themselves from the scene associated with the sound of their first album.

 

Released in 1992, the snarling "Pop Scene" was Blur's first attempt at changing their musical direction. A brash, spiteful rocker driven by horns, the neo-mod single was punkier than anything the band had previously recorded and its hooks were more immediate and catchy. Despite Blur's clear artistic growth, "Pop Scene" didn't fit into the climate of British pop and American grunge in 1992 and failed to make an impression on the U.K. charts. Following the single's commercial failure, the group began work on their second album, Modern Life Is Rubbish, a process that would take nearly a year and a half.

 

XTC's Andy Partridge was originally slated to produce Modern Life Is Rubbish, but the relationship between Blur and Partridge quickly soured, so Street was again brought in to produce the band. After spending nearly a year in the studio, the band delivered the album to Food. The record company rejected the album, declaring that it needed a hit single. Blur went back into the studio and recorded Albarn's "For Tomorrow," which would turn out to be a British hit. Food was ready to release the record, but the group's U.S. record company, SBK, believed there was no American hit single on the record and asked them to return to the studio. Blur complied and recorded "Chemical World," which pleased SBK for a short while; the song would become a minor alternative hit in the U.S. and charted at number 28 in the U.K. Modern Life Is Rubbish was set for release in the spring of 1993 when SBK asked Blur to re-record the album with producer Butch Vig (Nirvana, Sonic Youth). The band refused and the record was released in May in Britain; it appeared in the United States that fall. Modern Life Is Rubbish received good reviews in Britain, peaking at number 15 on the charts, yet it failed to make much of an impression in the U.S.

 

Modern Life Is Rubbish turned out to be a dry run for Blur's breakthrough album, Parklife. Released in April 1994, Parklife entered the charts at number one and catapulted the band to stardom in Britain. The stylized new wave dance-pop single "Girls and Boys" entered the charts at number five; the single managed to spend 15 weeks on the U.S. charts, peaking at number 52, but the album never cracked the charts. It was a completely different story in England, as Blur had a string of hit singles, including the ballad "To the End" and the mod anthem "Parklife," which featured narration by Phil Daniels, the star of the film version of the Who's Quadrophenia.

 

With the success of Parklife, Blur opened the door for a flood of British indie guitar bands who dominated British pop culture in the mid-'90s. Oasis, Elastica, Pulp, the Boo Radleys, Supergrass, Gene, Echobelly, Menswear, and numerous other bands all benefited from the band's success. By the beginning of 1995, Parklife had gone triple platinum and the band had become superstars. The group spent the first half of 1995 recording their fourth album and playing various one-off concerts, including a sold-out stadium show. Blur released "Country House," the first single from their new album, in August amidst a flurry of media attention because Albarn had the single's release moved up a week to compete with the release of "Roll With It," a new single from Blur's chief rivals, Oasis. The strategy backfired. Although Blur won the battle, with "Country House" becoming the group's first number one single, they ultimately lost the war, as Oasis became Britain's biggest band with their second album, (What's the Story) Morning Glory?, completely overshadowing the follow-up to Parklife, The Great Escape. While The Great Escape entered the U.K. charts at number one and earned overwhelmingly positive reviews, it sold in smaller numbers, and by the beginning of 1996, Blur was seen as has-beens, especially since they once again failed to break the American market, where Oasis had been particularly successful.

 

In the face of negative press and weak public support, Blur nearly broke up in early 1996, but they instead decided to spend the entire year out of the spotlight. By the end of the year, Albarn was declaring that he was no longer interested in British music and was fascinated with American indie rock, a genre that Graham Coxon had been supporting for years. These influences manifested themselves on Blur's fifth album, Blur, which was released in February of 1997 to generally positive reviews. The band's reinvention wasn't greeted warmly in the U.K. — the album and its first single, "Beetlebum," debuted at number one and quickly fell down the charts — as the group's mass audience didn't completely accept their new incarnation. However, the band's revamped sound earned them an audience in the U.S., where Blur received strong reviews and became a moderate hit, thanks largely to the popularity of the single "Song 2." The success in America eventually seeped over to Britain, and by the spring, the album had bounced back up the charts. 13 followed in 1999.

 

 

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Leisure (Aug 27, 1991)

3 Stars

 

Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

"She's So High" and "There's No Other Way" were auspicious debut singles, alternately trancy and melodic, suggesting how shoegazing and baggy beats could be incorporated into pop song structures. Both songs suggested that Blur was capable of a striking debut album, but Leisure wasn't it. Mired by directionless soundscapes and incomplete songwriting, Leisure was nevertheless full of promise. Whenever the group tread close to the warped psychedelia of Syd Barrett, their compositions sprang to life, and "Sing" was an eerie, entrancing minor-key drone reminiscent of the Velvet Underground's "Venus in Furs." Those moments, however, were few and far between on Leisure, since much of the record was devoted to either naïve pop like "Bang" or washes of feedback and effects. From Leisure, it appeared that Blur was only capable of a pair of fine singles, which is what made the complete reinvention of Modern Life Is Rubbish such a surprise. [For the American release of Leisure, SBK Records lopped off one of the album's best songs, "Sing," and shuffled the running order for no apparent reason other than having "She's So High" and "There's No Other Way" appear first.]

 

 

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Modern Life Is Rubbish (May 10, 1993)

4.5 Stars

 

Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

As a response to the dominance of grunge in the U.K. and their own decreasing profile in their homeland — and also as a response to Suede's sudden popularity — Blur reinvented themselves with their second album, Modern Life Is Rubbish, abandoning the shoegazing and baggy influences that dominated Leisure for traditional pop. On the surface, Modern Life may appear to be an homage to the Kinks, David Bowie, the Beatles, and Syd Barrett, yet it isn't a restatement, it's a revitalization. Blur use British guitar pop from the Beatles to My Bloody Valentine as a foundation, spinning off tales of contemporary despair. If Damon Albarn weren't such a clever songwriter, both lyrically and melodically, Modern Life could have sunk under its own pretensions, and the latter half does drag slightly. However, the record teems with life, since Blur refuse to treat their classicist songs as museum pieces. Graham Coxon's guitar tears each song open, either with unpredictable melodic lines or layers of translucent, hypnotic effects, and his work creates great tension with Alex James' kinetic bass. And that provides Albarn a vibrant background for his social satires and cutting commentary. But the reason Modern Life Is Rubbish is such a dynamic record and ushered in a new era of British pop is that nearly every song is carefully constructed and boasts a killer melody, from the stately "For Tomorrow" and the punky "Advert" to the vaudeville stomp of "Sunday Sunday" and the neo-psychedelic "Chemical World." Even with its flaws, it's a record of considerable vision and excitement. [The American version of Modern Life Is Rubbish substitutes the demo version of "Chemical World" for the studio version on the British edition. It also adds the superb single "Pop Scene" before the final song, "Resigned."]

 

 

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Parklife (Apr 25, 1994)

5 Stars

 

Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

Modern Life Is Rubbish established Blur as the heir to the archly British pop of the Kinks, the Small Faces, and the Jam, but its follow-up, Parklife, revealed the depth of that transformation. Relying more heavily on Ray Davies' seriocomic social commentary, as well as new wave, Parklife runs through the entire history of post-British Invasion Britpop in the course of 16 songs, touching on psychedelia, synth pop, disco, punk, and music hall along the way. Damon Albarn intended these songs to form a sketch of British life in the mid-'90s, and it's startling how close he came to his goal; not only did the bouncy, disco-fied "Girls & Boys" and singalong chant "Parklife" become anthems in the U.K., but they inaugurated a new era of Britpop and lad culture, where British youth celebrated their country and traditions. The legions of jangly, melodic bands that followed in the wake of Parklife revealed how much more complex Blur's vision was. Not only was their music precisely detailed — sound effects and brilliant guitar lines pop up all over the record — but the melodies elegantly interweaved with the chords, as in the graceful, heartbreaking "Badhead." Surprisingly, Albarn, for all of his cold, dispassionate wit, demonstrates compassion that gives these songs three dimensions, as on the pathos-laden "End of a Century," the melancholy Walker Brothers tribute "To the End," and the swirling, epic closer, "This Is a Low." For all of its celebration of tradition, Parklife is a thoroughly modern record in that it bends genres and is self-referential (the mod anthem of the title track is voiced by none other than Phil Daniels, the star of Quadrophenia). And, by tying the past and the present together, Blur articulated the mid-'90s zeitgeist and produced an epoch-defining record.

 

 

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The Great Escape (Sep 11, 1995)

4.5 Stars

 

Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

In the simplest terms, The Great Escape is the flip side of Parklife. Where Blur's breakthrough album was a celebration of the working class, drawing on British pop from the '60s and reaching through the '80s, The Great Escape concentrates on the suburbs, featuring a cast of characters all trying to cope with the numbing pressures of modern life. Consequently, it's darker than Parklife, even if the melancholia is hidden underneath the crisp production and catchy melodies. Even the bright, infectious numbers on The Great Escape have gloomy subtexts, whether it's the disillusioned millionaire of "Country House" and the sycophant of "Charmless Man" or the bleak loneliness of "Globe Alone" and "Entertain Me." Naturally, the slower numbers are even more despairing, with the acoustic "Best Days," the lush, sweeping strings of "The Universal," and the stark, moving electronic ballad "Yuko & Hiro" ranking as the most affecting work Blur has ever recorded. However, none of this makes The Great Escape a burden or a difficult album. The music bristles with invention throughout, as Blur delves deeper into experimentation with synthesizers, horns, and strings; guitarist Graham Coxon twists out unusual chords and lead lines, and Damon Albarn spits out unexpected lyrical couplets filled with wit and venomous intelligence in each song. But Blur's most remarkable accomplishment is that it can reference the past — the Scott Walker homage of "The Universal," the Terry Hall/Fun Boy Three cop on "Top Man," the skittish, XTC-flavored pop of "It Could Be You," and Albarn's devotion to Ray Davies — while still moving forward, creating a vibrant, invigorating record.

 

 

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Live at the Budokan (1996)

3 Stars

 

Review by Ned Raggett

 

In front of a quite appreciative audience — if they don't generate the same level of hysteria as Cheap Trick did in the same venue some years before, they get close — Blur recorded this Japanese-only two-disc effort. It's an album hardcore fans will definitely want to find and more casual followers should also keep an eye out for, drawing mostly from Modern Life is Rubbish onward (aside from a somewhat pedestrian run-through of "She's So High"). Recorded during the group's 1995 tour for The Great Escape — the set itself starts with a delightful marching band gone art-punk version of the original movie's main theme — Live conclusively demonstrates that in concert Blur is Coxon's band, not Albarn's. Even at his most economical, Coxon demonstrates a fine ability to spike up a song's energy. When given the opportunity on louder numbers, he blasts out feedback power like nobody's business. James and Rowntree's rhythm section doesn't falter in the slightest either, and together, the three simply go for it in grand style, pumping up calmer studio cuts with vigor and transforming rockers like "Popscene" into thrashy monsters. They know when to play it cool and calm, though, so songs like "To the End" and an affecting, appropriate take on "Yuko and Hiro" benefit from the combination of live bite and arranged drama. Albarn in contrast seems somewhat tired at points and a parody of himself at his most English at others, undercutting what should have been an all-around commanding show. He does have moments to shine, though, including winning renditions of "Girls and Boys" and "This is a Low." Special note should be given to the all-around packaging, based on an airport/flying theme in the style of The Great Escape's design. The live shots inside are all quite fine, including a quite lovely one of pin-up bassist James.

 

 

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Blur (Feb 10, 1997)

4.5 Stars

 

Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

The Great Escape, for all of its many virtues, painted Blur into a corner and there was only one way out — to abandon the Britpop that they had instigated by bringing the weird strands that always floated through their music to the surface. Blur may superficially appear to be a break from tradition, but it is a logical progression, highlighting the band's rich eclecticism and sense of songcraft. Certainly, they are trying for new sonic territory, bringing in shards of white noise, gurgling electronics, raw guitars, and druggy psychedelia, but these are just extensions of previously hidden elements of Blur's music. What makes it exceptional is how hard the band tries to reinvent itself within its own framework, and the level of which it succeeds. "Beetlebum" runs through the White Album in the space of five minutes; "M.O.R." reinterprets Berlin-era Bowie; "You're So Great," despite the corny title, is affecting lo-fi from Graham Coxon; "Country Sad Ballad Man" is bizarrely affecting, strangled lo-fi psychedelia; "Death of a Party" is an affecting resignation; "On Your Own" is an incredible slice of singalong pop spiked with winding, fluid guitar and synth eruptions; while "Look Inside America" cleverly subverts the traditional Blur song, complete with strings. And "Essex Dogs" is a six-minute slab of free verse and rattling guitar noise. Blur might be self-consciously eclectic, but Blur are at their best when they are trying to live up to their own pretensions, because of Damon Albarn's exceptional sense of songcraft and the band's knack for detailed arrangements that flesh out the songs to their fullest. There might be dark overtones to the record, but the band sounds positively joyous, not only in making noise but wreaking havoc with the expectations of its audience and critics.

 

 

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13 (Mar 15, 1999)

3.5 Stars

 

Review by Heather Phares

 

Blur's penitence for Brit-pop continues with the aptly named 13, which deals with star-crossed situations like personal and professional breakups with Damon Albarn's longtime girlfriend, Justine Frischmann of Elastica, and the group's longtime producer, Stephen Street. Building on Blur's un-pop experiments, the group's ambitions to expand their musical and emotional horizons result in a half-baked baker's dozen of songs, featuring some of their most creative peaks and self-indulgent valleys. Albarn has been criticized for lacking depth in his songwriting, but his ballads remain some of Blur's best moments. When Albarn and crew risk some honesty, 13 shines: on "Tender," Albarn is battered and frail, urged by a lush gospel choir to "get through it." His confiding continues on "1992," which alludes to the beginning — and ending — of his relationship with Frischmann. On "No Distance Left to Run," one of 13's most moving moments, Albarn addresses post-breakup ambivalence, sighing, "I hope you're with someone who makes you feel safe while you sleep." While these songs reflect Albarn's romantic chaos, "Mellow Song," "Caramel," and "Trimm Trabb" express day-to-day desperation. Musically, the saddest songs on 13 are also the clearest, mixing electronic and acoustic elements in sleek but heartfelt harmony. However, "B.L.U.R.E.M.I." is a by-the-numbers rave-up, and the blustery "Swamp Song" and "Bugman" nick Blur's old punky glam pop style but sound misplaced here. "Trailerpark" veers in yet another direction, a too-trendy trip-hop rip-off that emphasizes the band's musical fog, proving that William Orbit's kitchen-sink production doesn't serve the songs' — or the band's — best interests. 13's strange, frustrating combination of expert musicianship and self-indulgence reveals the sound of a band trying to find itself. With some closer editing, this could have been the emotionally deep, sonically wide album Blur yearns to make.

 

 

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Think Tank (May 6, 2003)

2 Stars

 

Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

As Blur commenced recording on Think Tank, their seventh album, things got a little weird. Tensions between vocalist/songwriter Damon Albarn and guitarist Graham Coxon reached a boiling point following Albarn's success with his dance-oriented side project, Gorillaz, leading him to assert dominance over the band, all of which was at odds with a newly sober and somber Coxon, whose solo records were doggedly designed to appeal to small audiences. According to most press reports, the breaking point was Albarn bringing Fatboy Slim in for production work in Morocco (it's hard to write those words without believing them to be parody), leading toward Coxon's acrimonious departure and the turgid mess that is Think Tank. Given the Gorillaz and Fatboy Slim (who, after all the brouhaha, only produced two tracks) connections, it's easy to assume that Albarn is pushing Blur toward a heavy, heavy dance album, which isn't strictly true, partially because the band always have traded in alternative dance. Still, there's been a shift in approach. Where they used to use disco and house beats as a foundation (see "Girls and Boys" or "Entertain Me"), Blur now borrow modern dance's fondness, even reliance, on atmosphere over song and structure — which is kind of ironic, of course, since the group have always excelled at song and structure in the past. In the post-Coxon era, all that's tossed aside as Albarn turns his attention to electronic art-rock as thin as a dime. Make no mistake, even if bassist Alex James and Dave Rowntree are along for the ride, this is the sound of Albarn run amuck, a (perhaps inevitable) development that even voracious Blur supporters secretly feared could ruin the band — and it has. Why? Because Albarn's talents cry out for a collaborator. He has great ideas but he needs help not just in the execution, but sorting out what ideas are good. The problem is, he's charismatic enough to coast by on his book smarts and good looks, until somebody — Coxon, Stephen Street, Dan the Automator — calls him into check, and now that he's had enough success, he's convinced he can do it on his own. So, Think Tank is the Damon Show, and it reveals that the emperor has no clothes or sense. Apart from the fine, deliberate opening gambit of "Ambulance" and "Out of Time" — the first a perfectly arranged, ominously lush mood piece; the other a hushed, melancholic elegy in the same vein as "To the End" and "Tender," though not as good as either — Think Tank sounds for all the world exactly like Blur B-sides from Parklife to Blur, complete with the hiccupping analog synths and meandering instrumentals, but without the sense of songcraft and with less imaginative arrangements (remember, elastic codas with a noodling saxophone line do not equal experimental; it's lazy focus). Those songs that do sound more substantial than B-sides are severely hurt by Coxon's absence: Witness the pleasantly sweet "Good Song," built on a Pro-Tools acoustic guitar loop which drains the song of emotion, when Graham would have let the song breathe, or how the creepy crawl of "Battery in Your Leg" winds up eating its own tail through its hermetically sealed arrangement. These problems all derive from one simple thing — since Albarn has nobody to challenge him, he's unwittingly pawning off an album of half-baked demos and unfinished B-sides. And this isn't the result of a musical departure, unless you count the departure of songwriting — this is the sound of Blur without the hooks, smarts, tunes, or even the sense of adventure. Sure, it might be easier to accept if it was called a Damon Albarn solo album, but that's splitting hairs. A lousy album is a lousy album, no matter who gets credit.

 

 

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The Best of Blur (Nov 21, 2000)

4 Stars

 

Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

It's boring to point out omissions on hits compilations, especially when a collection is as generous as the 18-track The Best of Blur, but let's do it anyway. The Best of Blur largely bypasses the group's key album, Modern Life Is Rubbish, the record that invented Brit-pop, skewing in favor of the self-consciously "experimental" 13, which, for all of its attributes, wasn't a singles album. Plus, the group continues to punish the British record-buying public by not including the brilliant "Pop Scene" (to beat a dead horse, the single that invented Brit-pop), since nobody bought it at the time. So, without "Pop Scene," "Chemical World," or "Sunday Sunday," a crucial chapter of Blur's history is missing from The Best of Blur — the chapter where they essentially became Blur. It's to their immense credit that the album doesn't feel like it's missing anything, since these singles (plus one album track) are dazzling on their own. Of course, the trick is that the record isn't assembled chronologically. Instead, it flows like a set list, complete with the set closer "This Is a Low" followed by a two-song encore that ends with the new song (the good, not great, "Music Is My Radar"), which not only gives it a momentum of its own, but draws attention to the songs themselves. And "dazzling" isn't hyperbole — based on these 18 songs, Blur isn't just the best pop band of the '90s, with greater range and depth than their peers, they rank among the best pop bands of all time. The Best of Blur illustrates that, even as it misses some of their best moments — omissions that prevent it from being the flat-out classic it should be. Even so, it's pretty damn terrific, particularly for the unconverted.

 

Gorillaz

 

Biography by Heather Phares

 

Conceived as the first "virtual hip-hop group," Gorillaz blended the musical talents of Dan "The Automator" Nakamura, Blur's Damon Albarn, Cibo Matto's Miho Hatori, and Tom Tom Club's Tina Weymouth and Chris Frantz with the arresting visuals of Jamie Hewlett, best known as the creator of the cult comic Tank Girl. Nakamura's Deltron 3030 cohorts Kid Koala and Del tha Funkee Homosapien rounded out the creative team behind the Gorillaz quartet, which included 2-D, the cute but spacy singer/keyboardist; Murdoc, the spooky, possibly Satanic bassist and the brains behind the group; Russel, a drummer equally inspired by "Farrakhan and Chaka Khan" and possessed by "funkyphantoms" that occasionally rise up and provide some zombie-style rapping; and last but not least, Noodle, a ten-year-old Japanese guitar virtuosa and martial arts master. The group's website, www.gorillaz.com, showcased Hewlett's visuals and the group's music in eye- and ear-catching detail.

 

Gorillaz debuted in late 2000 with the Tomorrow Comes Today EP, which they followed early the next year with the Clint Eastwood single; their self-titled full-length debut arrived in spring 2001. Gorillaz was a massive worldwide success and achieved platinum-level sales in the U.S. The group's Svengalis were quick to capitalize, and released the B-sides collection G-Sides, the Phase One: Celebrity Takedown DVD, and the dub-inspired remix album Laika Come Home in 2002. The project went on hiatus as Albarn resumed work with Blur for their seventh album, 2003's Think Tank.

 

When he was ready to begin the next Gorillaz album, Albarn turned to Danger Mouse, the DJ behind The Grey Album, the infamous mash-up of the Beatles' White Album and Jay-Z's Black Album, and a host of other collaborators, including De La Soul, Shaun Ryder, Debbie Harry, Dennis Hopper, and Martina Topley-Bird. Although Del tha Funkee Homosapien and Nakamura did not return, 2-D, Russel, Murdoc, and Noodle were all present and accounted for on Demon Days, another Top Ten hit, which arrived in spring 2005.

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Gorillaz (Apr 24, 2001)

4.5 Stars

 

Review by Heather Phares

 

It's tempting to judge Gorillaz — Damon Albarn, Tank Girl creator Jamie Hewlett, and Dan "The Automator" Nakamura's virtual band — just by their brilliantly animated videos and write the project off as another triumph of style over substance. Admittedly, Hewlett's edgy-cute characterizations of 2-D, Gorillaz' pretty boy singer (who looks a cross between the Charlatans' Tim Burgess and Sonic the Hedgehog), sinister bassist Murdoc, whiz-kid guitarist Noodle, and b-boy drummer Russel are so arresting that they almost detract from Gorillaz' music. The amazing "Thriller"-meets-Planet of the Apes clip for "Clint Eastwood" is so visually clever that it's easy to take the song's equally clever, hip-hop-tinged update of the Specials' "Ghost Town" for granted. And initially, Gorillaz' self-titled debut feels incomplete when Hewlett's imagery is removed; the concept of Gorillaz as a virtual band doesn't hold up as well when you can't see the virtual bandmembers. It's too bad that there isn't a DVD version of Gorillaz, with videos for every song, à la the DVD version of Super Furry Animals' Rings Around the World. Musically, however, Gorillaz is a cutely caricatured blend of Albarn's eclectic Brit-pop and Nakamura's equally wide-ranging hip-hop, and it sounds almost as good as the band looks. Albarn has fun sending up Blur's cheeky pop on songs like "5/4" and "Re-Hash," their trip-hop experiments on "New Genious" and "Sound Check," and "Song 2"-like thrash-pop on "Punk" and "M1 A1." Despite the similarities between Albarn's main gig and his contributions here, Gorillaz isn't an Albarn solo album in disguise; Nakamura's bass- and beat-oriented production gives the album an authentically dub and hip-hop-inspired feel, particularly on "Rock the House" and "Tomorrow Comes Today." Likewise, Del tha Funkee Homosapien, Miho Hatori, and Ibrahim Ferrer's vocals ensure that it sounds like a diverse collaboration rather than an insular side project. Instead, it feels like a musical vacation for all parties involved — a little self-indulgent, but filled with enough fun ideas and good songs to make this virtual band's debut a genuinely enjoyable album.

 

 

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Laika Come Home (Jul 16, 2002)

3 Stars

 

Review by Heather Phares

 

The enormous success of Gorillaz' self-titled debut spawned a couple of collections from the animated hip-hop group as a way of satisfying their public until their Svengalis, Dan "The Automator" Nakamura and Damon Albarn, could reconvene to deliver new material. G-Sides was a more or less straightforward B-sides collection, while Laika Come Home offered a unique twist on the remix album. Instead of hiring several DJs and artists to remix the group's songs, Albarn and Nakamura had Space Monkeyz, who did a dub version of "Clint Eastwood" as a B-side for that single, rework all of Gorillaz' songs as dub excursions. While the actual identities of the Space Monkeyz are questionable — gorillaz.com says they are "mutant offspring of the monkey cosmonauts sent into space during the Cold War" — their remixing skills and dedication to authentic-sounding dub are undeniable. An appropriately laid-back, playful feel permeates Laika Come Home; the album's best moments, such as "19/2000 (Jungle Fresh)," "New Genius (Brother) (Mutant Genius)," and "M1A1 (Lil' Dub Chefin')" explore the dub influences at the root of Gorillaz' sound and offer a fun, fresh take on the songs. In all, while it's not as exciting — or, arguably, necessary — as a new Gorillaz album, Laika Come Home is still a more satisfying work than the usual boring and/or unpredictable remix album. Fans awaiting the Gorillaz' next move will be sufficiently entertained by this summery, spacy collection.

 

 

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Demon Days (May 24, 2005)

4.5 Stars

 

Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

Damon Albarn went to great pains to explain that the first Gorillaz album was a collaboration between him, cartoonist Jamie Hewlett, and producer Dan the Automator, but any sort of pretense to having the virtual pop group seem like a genuine collaborative band was thrown out the window for the group's long-awaited 2005 sequel, Demon Days. Hewlett still provides new animation for Gorillaz — although the proposed feature-length film has long disappeared — but Dan the Automator is gone, leaving Albarn as the unquestioned leader of the group. This isn't quite similar to Blur, a genuine band that faltered after Graham Coxon decided he had enough, leaving Damon behind to construct the muddled Think Tank largely on his own. No, Gorillaz were always designed as a collective, featuring many contributors and producers, all shepherded by Albarn, the songwriter, mastermind, and ringleader. Hiding behind Hewlett's excellent cartoons gave Albarn the freedom to indulge himself, but it also gave him focus since it tied him to a specific concept. Throughout his career, Albarn always was at his best when writing in character — to the extent that anytime he wrote confessionals in Blur, they sounded stagy — and Gorillaz not only gave him an ideal platform, it liberated him, giving him the opportunity to try things he couldn't within the increasingly dour confines of Blur. It wasn't just that the cartoon concept made for light music — on the first Gorillaz album, Damon sounded as if he were having fun for the first time since Parklife. But 2005 is a much different year than 2001, and if Gorillaz exuded the heady, optimistic, future-forward vibes of the turn of the millennium, Demon Days is as theatrically foreboding as its title, one of the few pop records made since 9/11 that captures the eerie unease of living in the 21st century. Not really a cartoony feel, in other words, but Gorillaz indulged in doom and gloom from their very first single, "Clint Eastwood," so this is not unfamiliar territory, nor is it all that dissimilar from the turgid moodiness of Blur's 2003 Think Tank. But where Albarn seemed simultaneously constrained and adrift on that last Blur album — attempting to create indie rock, yet unsure how since messiness contradicts his tightly wound artistic impulses — he's assured and masterful on Demon Days, regaining his flair for grand gestures that served him so well at the height of Britpop, yet tempering his tendency to overreach by keeping the music lean and evocative through his enlistment of electronica maverick Danger Mouse as producer.

 

Demon Days is unified and purposeful in a way Albarn's music hasn't been since The Great Escape, possessing a cinematic scope and a narrative flow, as the curtain unveils to the ominous, morose "Last Living Souls" and then twists and winds through valleys, detours, and wrong paths — some light, some teeming with dread — before ending up at the haltingly hopeful title track. Along the way, cameos float in and out of the slipstream and Albarn relies on several familiar tricks: the Specials are a touchstone, brooding minor key melodies haunt the album, there are some singalong refrains, while a celebrity recites a lyric (this time, it's Dennis Hopper). Instead of sounding like musical crutches, this sounds like an artist who knows his strengths and uses them as an anchor so he can go off and explore new worlds. Chief among the strengths that Albarn relies upon is his ability to find collaborators who can articulate his ideas clearly and vividly. Danger Mouse, whose Grey Album mash-up of the Beatles and Jay-Z was an underground sensation in 2004, gives this music an elasticity and creeping darkness than infects even such purportedly lighthearted moments as "Feel Good Inc." It's a sense of menace that's reminiscent of prime Happy Mondays, so it shouldn't be a surprise that one of the highlights of Demon Days is Shaun Ryder's cameo on the tight, deceptively catchy "Dare." Over a tightly wound four minutes, "Dare" exploits Ryder's iconic Mancunian thug persona within territory that belongs to the Gorillaz — its percolating beat not too far removed from "19/2000" — and that's what makes it a perfect distillation of Demon Days: by letting other musicians take center stage and by sharing credit with Danger Mouse, Damon Albarn has created an allegedly anonymous platform whose genius ultimately and quite clearly belongs to him alone. All the themes and ideas on this album have antecedents in his previous work, but surrounded by new collaborators, he's able to present them in a fresh, exciting way. And he has created a monster album here — not just in its size, but in its Frankenstein construction. It not only eclipses the first Gorillaz album, which in itself was a terrific record, but stands alongside the best Blur albums, providing a tonal touchstone for this decade the way Parklife did for the '90s. While it won't launch a phenomenon the way that 1994 classic did — Albarn is too much a veteran artist for that and the music is too dark and weird — Demon Days is still one hell of a comeback for Damon Albarn, who seemed perilously close to forever disappearing into his own ego.

 

 

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G-Sides (Apr 2, 2002)

3 Stars

 

Review by Heather Phares

 

Though it seems a bit soon for a virtual group with only one album to its name to be releasing a B-sides collection, Gorillaz' G-Sides more or less justifies its existence by gathering some of the best extra tracks from the band's singles, most of which are only available as imports. As with Gorillaz, which surrounded catchy songs like "Clint Eastwood" and "19/2000" with quirkier, more experimental tracks, the band uses its B-sides as a chance to stretch out even further musically, either with remixes or with unconventional musical sketches. G-Sides features some of each, ranging from the even bouncier, more upbeat remix of "19/2000" by Soulchild, to the rather eerie "Hip Albatross," which mixes samples of moaning zombies from Dawn of the Dead with trip-hoppy beats and moody guitars. Rapper Phi Life Cyber reinforces Gorillaz' hip-hop roots by joining them on two tracks, for a reworking of "Clint Eastwood" and "The Sounder." The appealingly simple "12D3," with its strummy guitar and playful Damon Albarn vocals, recalls some of Blur's later work, and the funky, quirky "Ghost Train," and the English version of "Latin Simone" are as enjoyable as anything that appeared on Gorillaz. Aside from the Wiseguys' rather limp reworking of "19/2000," the only problem with G-Sides is its brevity; the U.S. version only includes ten of the B-sides, none of which are from their biggest single, "Clint Eastwood." And while most of the import singles featured CD-ROM tracks of the group's amazing animated videos, none of them appear here. Though the enhanced version of G-Sides and the Japanese B-Side Collection feature more of Gorillaz' B-sides (and they'll probably have a video collection sooner rather than later), these kinds of omissions make G-Sides a slightly frustrating collection. Gorillaz completists will no doubt have all of the import singles already, but G-Sides is the logical next step for anyone intrigued by the group's debut. [The enhanced U.K. issue of the CD not only includes videos for "Clint Eastwood" and "Rock the House," but a slightly different track listing, trading "Latin Simone" and "19-2000 [Wiseguys House of Wisdom Remix]" for "Dracula" and "Rock the House," and adding the track "Left Hand Suzuki Method."]

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The Good, the Bad & the Queen (Jan 22, 2007)

4 Stars

 

Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

Around the turn of the millennium — just after the release of Blur's moody sixth album, 13 — Damon Albarn began to quietly back away from the very concept of fronting a rock band, turning his attention to a series of collaborative projects that soon overshadowed his main gig. First there was the electro-bubblegum group Gorillaz, which afforded Albarn the opportunity to masquerade behind a cartoon, a move that allowed him to let his music speak louder than his fame, a method that he found irresistible as he began to do several projects similar to this, including a voyage to Africa documented on Mali Music, along with other less-publicized forays into soundtracks. In this context, the post-Graham Coxon Blur albumThink Tank seemed less like a band effort than another conceptual project directed by Albarn instead of the work of a band, which is what all these new-millennium projects were at their core, including the Good, the Bad & the Queen, a quartet comprised of himself, Clash bassist Paul Simonon, Verve guitarist Simon Tong, and Tony Allen, Fela Kuti's drummer, who was name-checked in Blur's "Music Is My Radar," and whose eponymous 2007 album is produced by Danger Mouse, who previously collaborated with Albarn on Gorillaz's second album, 2005's Demon Days. A flurry of pre-release activity compared The Good, the Bad & the Queen to Blur's 1994 masterpiece Parklife, as it represents a conscious return to Albarn writing songs specifically about London at a particular point in time. Thematically accurate though this may be, it is also misleading, suggesting that Albarn is also returning to the bright, colorful, clever guitar pop that made his reputation — something akin to Coxon's reclamation of that sound on his excellent recent solo albums, Happiness in Magazines and Love Travels at Illegal Speeds. That couldn't be farther from the truth, as The Good, the Bad & the Queen is deliberately drained of color and mired in moodiness. If Parklife exuberantly captured the giddiness of the mid-'90s, as fashions and politics changed, ushering in New Labor, Britpop, and new lad culture, The Good, the Bad & the Queen captures how all that optimism has calcified into weary cynicism, as the endless opportunities of the '90s have given way to a warring world that seems to lack any center or certainty. So, in that sense, it is a cousin to Parklife in how it captures a national mood, but in sheer sonic terms, the closet antecedent of Albarn's is Demon Days, which traced out an apocalyptic vision despite its insistent pop hooks. Which isn't to say that The Good, the Bad & the Queen is a Gorillaz album in disguise, nor should Simonon's presence suggest that this is the second coming of London Calling; if anything, GBQ suggest the Specials at their most haunted, which is hardly uncharacteristic of Damon, who has always used "Ghost Town" as a blueprint whenever he's wanted to get spooky.

 

Despite these echoes of the past — and there are other echoes, too, arriving in Simonon's thundering dub bass, Tong's spectral guitars, Allen's nimble rhythms, and Albarn's vaudevillian piano and carnivalesque organ — The Good, the Bad & the Queen is most certainly its own distinctive thing, the product of five iconoclastic musicians working a theme endlessly, relentlessly, and inventively, producing music that plays more like a movie than an album. Early on, as "History Song" eases into view on a circular acoustic guitar phrase, it establishes an alluring, dank, and artfully dour mood that the band continually expands and explores without ever letting the gloom lift. But for as dark as this is, GBQ never sounds despairing — it's wearily resigned, as Albarn and his bandmates prefer to luxuriously wallow in the murk instead of finding a way out of it. There's a comfort in its melancholy, particularly in how the album glides from one elegantly doleful song to another, but at times the album almost sounds too samey, with no individual song emerging from the whole. Part of the reason for this is Danger Mouse's production: it's as subtle and clever as ever, but built largely in the post-production — to the extent that he'll mix out Allen for large stretches of the album just for the aural effect. He's orchestrated a unified, dramatic album — it's a tapestry of impeccable, sorrowful, yet sultry soundscapes — but given the pedigree of this band, it's hard not to wish that the album offered more of the quartet just playing, gussied up with no effect. Nevertheless, as an album The Good, the Bad & the Queen is singularly effective, bringing the roiling melancholy undercurrent of Demon Days to the surface and creating a murky, mud-streaked impressionistic rock noir that's sinisterly seductive in its gloom.

 

 

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Graham Coxon

 

Biography by MacKenzie Wilson

 

He's the guitarist of one of London's most delightful Britpop bands, and Graham Coxon is the quiet one. As the chief guitarist of Blur, his sheer and jointed guitar riffs made him a distinctive piece in leading the four-piece into alternative creative outlets, not to be overshadowed by the popular hysteria painted by the press. Noticeably, Blur went from cockney rebels to experimental intellects throughout their growing roster of material during the mid- to late '90s. Still Coxon wanted to steer into another musical invention. Expectations and personal wishes led him to throw his energy into a solo career. It was a side project of sorts, a loophole for Coxon to streamline his own ideas his own way.

 

Blur enjoyed mainstream success in America with "Song 2" from their 1997 self-titled release. Coxon's musical influences start to appear during this time, elements of American indie rock (Pavement, Pixies, Sonic Youth) shower through the band's work. It was shortly thereafter that Coxon founded his own label, Transcopic and released The Sky Is Too High in 1998 (the album was released on Caroline stateside). His straight-ahead lo-fi sound and post-punk yearnings were finally captured on a glowing debut, a favorite among the college charts, but still a stifling move for die-hard Blur fans. No one was sure what to make of Coxon's solo motivation. Unfortunately, a year later, it was brushed aside by the release of Blur's sixth album, 13. Coxon remained the quiet one, despite his deepest efforts to make his most artistic side more apparent. But keeping up with the speed of things, Coxon put all things Blur aside to release his second LP, The Golden D, in mid-2000.

 

Two years later, Coxon shocked Blur fans around the world by announcing his departure from the band. Recording for Think Tank had just gotten underway in Marrakesh, Morocco; however Coxon had already grown distant, personally and creatively, from the rest of the band. In turn, Coxon fell back on his solo career and focused on fatherhood. His fourth album, Kiss of Morning, appeared in October. Two years following, Coxon hooked up with producer Stephen Street for his biggest solo achievement yet. Happiness in Magazines was released in May 2004. Love Travels at Illegal Speeds appeared two years later.

 

 

 

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Sky Is Too High (Aug 18, 1998)

3 Stars

 

Review by Nitsuh Abebe

 

Graham Coxon had often said he felt the loose, jagged, American-indie sound of Blur's self-titled album was "his" more so than the band's other members — The Sky Is Too High, released between Blur and its follow-up, 13, lends credence to this statement. Most of the record is drum-less, consisting of oddly slanted constructions of electric and acoustic guitars in Coxon's trademark style (quirky, sloppy riffs and arpeggios shooting all over the fretboard) — the real magic is the way this approach works so perfectly on strange minimal ballads like "In a Salty Sea" and "Waiting," the sorts of constructions Blur shied away from until their self-titled release. The resulting songs are reminiscent of certain pre-Blur tracks (Modern Life Is Rubbish's "Miss America," most notably), but Coxon's low-fi, personal and decidedly non-pop approach makes this sound work as a little world unto itself, rather than a brief excursion on a thoroughly pop record. On the rare tracks where Coxon switches to a driving, noisy full-band arrangement, things are equally slanted and interesting — since The Sky Is Too High is essentially a side project, and therefore tends to restrict itself to a small, bedroom quality, one has to wonder what a proper solo release from Coxon would sound like.

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Golden D (May 30, 2000)

3 Stars

 

Review by Amy Schroeder

 

What with Blur frontman Damon Albarn stealing much of the attention for his loud-mouth antics, it seemed only natural that Graham Coxon, Blur's lead guitarist, would break out on his own for a side project. His debut solo release, 1998's The Sky Is Too High, was sort of like a collection of journal entries featuring acoustic melancholy, off-key guitar explosions and country crooning. Like The Sky, the second album reveals Coxon's appreciation for American indie rock. Whereas the first solo effort was somewhat lo-fi and reminiscent of Lou Barlow, Golden D, which is named after the musical chord, focuses on rock — the hard and fast variety — and suggests Sonic Youth and Sex Pistols. Standouts include "Jamie Thomas," a trashy punk thrasher that tributes his favorite skateboarder; atmospheric noodlings on "Lake"; the quirky horn-driven "Oochy Woochy"; and two Mission Of Burma covers ("Fame and Fortune" and "That's When I Reach for My Revolver."

 

Whereas Blur hired producer William Orbit (of Madonna fame) to bring out the band's delightfully sloppy side on its last album, 13, Coxon, who produced Golden D himself, masters messiness the au natural way — by making the album sound almost exactly as it would live. This, in fact, leads to the most impressive element of Golden D — that Coxon is solely responsible for everything you hear — and see — on the dozen-track album. He provided all the vocal and instrumental work (guitar and drums, mainly). He also released the album on his own label, Transcopic, and created the cover-art work — a mess of colorful, cartoonish-looking albeit violent scribbles.

 

 

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Crow Sit on Blood Tree (2001)

3 Stars

 

No Review

 

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The Kiss of Morning (Oct 21, 2002)

4 Stars

 

No Review