Leisure (1990)

5

She’s So High / Bang / Slow Down / Repetition / Bad Day / Sing / There’s No Other Way / Fool / Come Together / High Cool / Birthday / Wear Me Down

Slowdive, Ride, Chapterhouse, The Boo Radleys, Suede, The Charlatans, The Fast Automatic Daffodils, Lush, Blur. The amount of bands that were founded in the wake of crucial ‘Madchester’ bands like The Stone Roses and The Happy Mondays is stunning and evidence of the immense musical boost it must’ve caused during the late ‘80’s in Britain. The scene - that somehow managed to combine neo-psychedelic guitar-based rock with dance rhythms from the clubs that were the new hottest places – was often distinguished by a sense of apathy (you could easily fall asleep watching these guys if it wasn’t for the post-My Bloody Valentine feedback/distortion-thing), most prominent in the legion of “shoegazing” bands (the term says it all), but also in the drug-fueled culture surrounding the more dance-oriented bands. Blur – or Seymour as they were called before they recorded their first single – chose the easiest solution and did what quite a few acts had done before: throw those influences together, make sure you behave like a moron and get noticed. And they got noticed: because of their reputation but also their musical chops, producer Steve Lowell agreed to take them to the studio and recorded “She’s So High” in 1990, a mere year after the release of The Stone Roses hugely influential debut album.

Unoriginal, but satisfying nonetheless, “She’s So High” had the psychedelic backwards effects, vocal harmonies, and plaintive lead vocals that made it fit in with the scene. “Sing” (produced by the band) sounds conventional, but is an entirely different matter: lengthy and droning, driven by Rowntree’s steady pulse, Alex James’ excellent bass melody and Coxon’s outlandish guitar effects, it is proof of band's talent and an unquestionable album highlight (which again proves that those people at SBK in the US must’ve been idiots for omitting it from the American release). Refusing to be categorized as the next shoegazing druggies, Blur recorded another batch of songs with producer Stephen Street (favorite producer of The Smiths/Morrissey and the one they’d work with for ten years). “There’s No Other Way,” a more dance-oriented single is also quite good (though not nearly as good as, say, The Charlatans “The Only One I Know”), infectious and full of hooks, although Coxon – ever the nice one – called it “monumentally bland” right after its release. And … that’s when we get to the less interesting stuff. Oh yeah, if you really liked “There’s No Other Way,” you’ll probably like “Bang” as well, as it’s not very different – maybe a bit watered down compared to the original. Anyway, the remainder of the album goes to show that the band probably wasted too much time on partying and getting into quarrels than on creating fascinating music. Too many of the songs are just overly lazy and utterly unremarkable (“Fool”), milking out the same idea (“Birthday” (gaze, baby, gaze!), “Bad Day” (dance, baby, dance!)) or plain boring, like “Repetition” (self-knowledge goes a long way) that sounds as if it’s 15 minutes long. The swift “Come Together” is quite enjoyable (but ‘quite’ is not enough) and so is album closer “Wear Me Down” that’s a clear indication of Coxon’s My Bloody Valentine/Dinosaur Jr.-fixation. But still, that’s only one terrific song, a few good singles, a handful of rip-offs of those singles and some filler as dessert. If it wasn’t for “Sing” and the singles, there wouldn’t have been an indication that these guys would get very far (and the critical raves did go to another band after the release of Leisure (to Suede, I think, the band’s nemesis for a few years)), so it’s a good thing they got their act together (or whatever they did – progress was on the way). Oh yes, before it forget it: Albarn had a reputation for making up the lyrics to the songs right before they entered the recording studio. It shows, unless you think that “I don’t understand, you’re walking all over me, all over me to you, well you must be mad, and you know you are” (from “Come Together,” just a random example) sounds like poetry.

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Modern Life Is Rubbish (1993)

7

For Tomorrow / Advert / Colin Zeal / Pressure on Julian / Star Shaped / Blue Jeans / Chemical World / Intermission / Sunday Sunday / Oily Water / Miss America / Villa Rosie / Coping / Turn It Up / Resigned / Commercial Break

Just like McCartney died in the late 60s, the original members of Blur were abducted by aliens (never to be heard of again) and replaced by four look-alikes. How else can you explain the evolution from Leisure -> Modern Life Is Rubbish? This is p-r-o-g-r-e-s-s, my man. The excellent single “Popscene” – a lively horns-driven track delivered with more vigour than the entire Leisure album – was already proof of the fact that the band had transformed into a completely different unit, one that no longer was concerned about being the next semi-interesting “hip” band, but one that borrowed from the past and updated it into its wholly personal statement (remember the line “Imitation comes naturally”?) instead. Suddenly the band took on an entirely different image – with burgundy Dr. Martens and turned up pants – that stressed its British-ness. Well, they had sounded very British from the beginning, but now the whole package (music, lyrics, image) became a cleanly defined product. It must have been since the heyday of The Jam that a band drew such an inspiration from the sounds and visions of the rainy island. No more half-assed lyrics about nothing: Albarn somehow marries the lyricism of Ray Davies (complete with references to underground stations and London sites) and a vague social commentary that firmly places itself in a long series of predecessors.

Also musically, Modern Life reads as a kind of encyclopaedia of Brit-pop: from the lush Kinks-ish pop to punky pop gems to the dance-hall inspired post-Madness bounce, the album sizzles with ambition and diversity. The thing is: when you hear the album for the first time, it sounds as if they actually pulled it off: the superb snapshot of London life that “For Tomorrow” is, easily eclipses their previous singles, with their first use of strings and a chorus that’s ultra-catchy - despite it’s nearly idiotic content: “Lalalalalala” (rendering a nice parody of his former self in the process). More excellent material comes in the way of “Advert,” the punkiest track they had ever done, combining minimal Wire-riffs with a chorus that’s absurdly catchy (“Say something ELSE!”); and the Buzzcocks-influenced (well, the chorus at least) “Colin Zeal,” in which Albarn’s suitably laconic vocals during the verses match his protagonist’s near-catatonia (although I presume he’s handing us the predictable mirror). Anyway, after a start like this, it could hardly go wrong again. And there is some more worthwhile stuff: the inane “Pressure on Julian” nearly sounds as eccentric as the man it’s dedicated to (Julian “who else?” Cope), with a loopy guitar line, nonsensical lyrics galore (“Only the magical transit children sing, sing the lullaby bah bah bah”) and a plodding rhythm that never gets in the way of the song. During “Blue Jeans,” Albarn sings about air cushioned soles bought on Portobello Road and somehow manages to make it sound sweet – although that may result from him playing the melodica, something that he’s good at. There are a few more goodies, such as the familiar-sounding “Chemical World” (nice guitar effects there!), the bouncy “Sunday Sunday” that’s nice soundtrack to a visit to the pub and the dreamy album closer “Resigned,” but somewhere in the beginning of the second half, after the piano-driven “Intermission,” the album starts to slump.

During “Oily Water,” Damon’s “shopping precinct tannoy vocals” (he sings through a megaphone is what the liner notes meant) become pretty annoying after a while (45 seconds, to be precise) and sadly can’t be saved by the nice guitar textures. Furthermore, there are “Miss America” and “Turn It Up,” which work very well as opiates; “Villa Rosie” during which the band sounds like a half-decent Blur covers band, and “Coping,” which is – to use my British friend Catherine Campbell’s expression – totally pants. You can’t really blame them, because it’s a “mistake” even the best contemporary bands make, but the main problem about this album should be clear by now: it’s TOO LONG at 59 minutes! If they had used the first 8 tracks, the two unsubstantial but enjoyable instrumentals and “Resigned,” the album would have been damn impressive. Quite understandably, the album didn’t get that much recognition (they hadn’t given a reason why anyone should anxiously anticipate their sophomore effort), but it became somewhat of a sleeper hit, and one that – more than a decade after its genesis – is recognised as an album that was a bit ahead of its times, and even was responsible (partly, at least) for a boom of bands that found joy in toying around with their heroes’ achievements and weren’t ashamed to let their influences and love for melody show. So, there you go: a 9 for importance, an 8 for ambition, and a 7 for execution. God, I hate missed opportunities.

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Parklife (1994)

8

Girls & Boys / Tracy Jacks / End of a Century / Parklife / Bank Holiday / Badhead / The Debt Collector / Far Out / To the End / London Loves / Trouble in the Message Center / Clover over Dover / Magic America / Jubilee / This Is a Low / Lot 105

… and then “Girls & Boys” was released and the whole thing EXPLODED! Sounding like cheap Giorgio Moroder, but then roughly taken by both Nile Rodgers and those Sparks dudes, it’s a song that’s almost too kitschy to be true. The word “plastic” is all over it – from the mechanised drum beats, to the jumpy bass line, to Albarn’s mega-silly chorus (“Girls who are boys who like boys to be girls who do boys like they’re girls who do girls like they’re boys, etc”) – but still, you’re dealing with a indisputably classic single. Although the single and album weren’t the bravest renewal the band ever went through (in many ways, the unanticipated Modern Life was a much more drastic change), this continuation of blatantly updating the British pop-tradition worked excellent. This time around, the mishmash of styles and sounds becomes even more eclectic and, despite the fact that it took them only a year to make this album (compared to the three of the previous album), the songs are by and large of a high quality and confidently performed. …And that’s an understatement, since you just can hear the band knew it had hit the right button and was at the top of its game. Parklife is an album that’s multi-layered, especially musically, with melodic hooks, catchy (backing) vocals and a whole bunch of sounds continuously entering and leaving the picture.

“Girls & Boys” is merely the tip of the iceberg. There’s also the new wave-tribute “Trouble in the Message Centre” (those phony synths! that laconic delivery!), the brash punk of “Bank Holiday” (their scruffiest song yet) and the arrogant swagger of “Jubilee” that sounds as if Johnny Thunders himself stood up from the grave to join them. Even more striking are the band’s own attempts at “classic” song-writing. Take “End of the Century,” for instance. If that song isn’t a classic on a par with late-‘60’s Beatles or Kinks, I don’t know a thing about music. Of course, this kind of pop may not be your thing in the first place, but the affecting lyrics, tasteful guitar playing, delicious backing vocals and use of trumpet and flute turn it into a track to be cherished and one of the band’s greatest achievements. Almost as good is the title track, with deadpan verses by Phil Daniels (who starred in the movie version of The Who’s Quadrophenia) about dirty pigeons and noisy dustmen. From this track, it’s only a small step to the metronome-pop of “Tracy Jacks” and “London Loves,” songs catchier than is legally tolerated. Perhaps more remarkable than all the other songs on the album are the ballads. While the elegant “Badhead” (again with nice vocal harmonies) and the dreamy, harpsichord-dominated “Clover over Dover” succeed in doing what the band could only hint at on the previous album, it’s tracks like “To the End” and “This Is a Low” that are confirmation of the band’s gained mastery. “To the End” is obviously inspired by string-laden ‘60’s of the kind that turned Burt Bacharach, Dusty Springfield and Serge Gainsbourg into pop icons. Constantly balancing on the thin line between gracious finesse and syrupy soft-porn pop (blame it on the sexy backing vocals by Stereolab’s femme fatale Laetitia Sadier), it comes off wonderfully and it was a great – almost bold – idea to release this as the second single off of the album.

A little less tongue in cheek, but not a lesser track, is the excellent “This Is a Low.” Built upon acoustic guitars and less striking imagery, it’s a subtle track with a first-class chorus that’s bombastic without becoming annoying (in my book) and a great final chapter to an excellent album. Oh, there’s still the instrumental “Lot 105” that, like the equally silly “The Debt Collector,” is an update of the music hall-tradition, but they don’t really add anything to the album (like the “Intermission” and “Commercial Break” on Modern Life), except for another link to the past. All in all, Parklife is an album that nearly lives up to its legendary status. It’s not an album that hits you in the gut and it isn’t a virtuoso pièce de résistance that leaves you behind baffled either. It has a few songs that go on for too long (“London Loves,” “Tracy Jacks”), one that was completely unnecessary (“Far Out”) and a few that are basically not that impressive, such as “Magic America” (we've heard that “Lalalala” before, too), “Jubilee” and the instrumentals, but the band proves it has progressed/matured with leaps and bounds. It’s not surprising that nowadays this album is regarded as the pinnacle of Brit-pop, or as one of the era’s classic touchstones, because it boasts a sprawling diversity that would inspire a legion of imitators and paved the way for other top acts such as Supergrass and Elastica. Even without these consequences, Parklife would stand as an outstanding document of the era.

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The Great Escape (1995)

7.5

Stereotypes / Country House / Best Days / Charmless Man / Fade Away / Top Man / The Universal / Mr. Robinsons’ Quango / He Thought of Cars / It Could Be You / Ernold Same / Globe Alone / Dan Abnormal / Entertain Me / Yuko and Hiro

Whereas the release of Parklife was still a bit overshadowed by the death of a certain Kurt Cobain, the band's prominence during the next year ensured Blur would get all the attention with the release of its 1995 album The Great Escape. Oh yeah, how could I forget: there was the whole overblown Blur-Oasis feud that was so ridiculous it must have been a set-up (and did they really have that much in common?). Well, the one good thing it led to was that the album sales got a boost and that’s always a good thing. People like Robbie Williams make a living because of events like that. Anyway this review is about the long-awaited sequel to Parklife, but come to think of it, the whole superficial nonsense surrounding the new album was fitting. On many levels, The Great Escape was treated as a decent sequel, but a few listens made sure you’d alter that view. If anything, this album is the less commercial, less lightweight and less optimistic (well, the previous one does sound optimistic compared to this one) counterpart of Parklife. Even more so: from the album art, to the lyrics, to the purposely more detached music, it’s a release that’s obsessed with appearances.

While those who weren’t paying attention thought of it as another jolly album, most people did smell the rotten core beneath the shiny surface (cf. the last page of the booklet). Well, “rotten” may be an exaggeration, but the lives that are depicted during these songs are utterly devoid of content and genuine emotions. “Stereotypes” evokes the introduction to David Lynch’s Blue Velvet, a world where everything seems perfect, too perfect, uncomfortably perfect. And the protagonists? Well, they have to get their kicks out of naughty games. Quite similar to the mechanic jerk-pop of “Stereotypes” are “Ernold Same” (musically, one of the least interesting songs), a portrait of catatonia, and the Specials-influenced “Fade Away,” whose protagonists happened to stumble into their lives, hollow inside. Of course, Albarn’s antipathy towards America made sure he created some decidedly English (British?) stories, such as “Country House” and “Charmless Man.” Both of these songs are probably the reason why many people thought of The Great Escape as a sequel. Nearly as catchy as the bouncy stuff on Parklife, they combine the more traditional song-writing skills of Ray Davies (a merger of Face to Face’s infectiousness and Arthur’s seriousness) with the sounds and ideas of the nineties, with especially Coxon coming off as particularly inventive (I should dedicate an extra paragraph to his underrated skills, but I’ll pass on the honour to the specialists). The charmless man knows his Claret from his Beaujolais and pretends he’s notorious gangster Ronnie Kray, but ultimately, “no one’s listening,” while the professional cynic in “Country House” (allegedly based on some guy they’d worked with) is doomed to be lonely. Interesting side-note here: there’s also a reference to Oasis’ second album, with “Now he’s got morning glory, life’s a different story” (or is it the other way around, can somebody tell me?).

Anyway, during these songs, the pitiable characters are wallowing in their empty existence, or dreaming of escaping their dreary lives, like in “It Could Be You” (about the lottery – “Don’t worry if it’s not your lucky number, because tomorrow there is another”), “He Thought of Cars” (actually a quite darker and more interesting song than the title suggests) and “The Universal” (“Tomorrow is your lucky day”) that aims for the heights of “This Is a Low,” and nearly makes it. Interestingly (to me, that is), two of my favorite songs on this album are ones that hardly anyone ever mentions. The first is the silly “Top Man” that has “Julian Cope” all over it in capital letters (that’s probably why then – isn’t Cope the greatest of all British eccentrics?), the second is the danceable “Entertain Me” that’s a fitting addition to this album, with it’s near-robotic rhythms, phoned-in vocals (and Albarn does sound a lot like Mark E. Smith here!), and typical Blur-chorus. I’ve also grown quite fond of the weird ballad “Yuko and Hiro,” while “Globe Alone” once again proves the band is quite good at making Casio-punk. Despite some weaker songs (“Ernold Same,” the tough but sub-standard “Mr. Robinson’s Quango” and “Dan Abnormal” (it’s an anagram – remember Dan Abnormal also appeared on Elastica’s debut?)), The Great Escape doesn’t deserve the bad reputation (well, that’s my impression) it has today. OK, it was an overproduced album, but I consider that a part of the package. At this point, they had painted themselves into a corner (and luckily their next direction would be something entirely different), but inside this overlong and quite uneven release, there lurks another excellent 40-minute album.

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Live at the Budokan (1996)

7.5

The Great Escape / Jubilee / Popscene / End of a Century / Tracy Jacks / Mr. Robinson’s Quango / To the End / Fade Away / It Could Be You / Stereotypes / She’s So High / Girls & Boys / Advert / Intermission / Bank Holiday / For Tomorrow / Country House / This Is a Low / Supa Shoppa / Yuko and Hiro / He Thought of Cars / Coping / Globe Alone / Parklife / The Universal

Allegedly, Blur was a horrendous live act during their formative years (with a few historical lows to their credit), but that changed after they got their act together on Modern Life Is Rubbish, and indeed, also Live at the Budokan proves them to be a strong live act, one that tears through its back-catalogue with energy and creativity. On Budokan the band wisely focuses on their three previous studio albums, of which nearly all of the highlights are included. With nine songs, the recently released The Great Escape (these performances were recorded in November of 1995) is most adequately represented, but the band didn’t use the less successful song off of the other ones either. Thankfully, they only include one song from the mediocre debut album, “She’s So High,” which is – surprise! – certainly not among the highlights here. Quite remarkable, and by consequence making this release essential for new fans, is the inclusion of the single-only “Popscene,” still one of the band’s better songs. Finally there’s also “Supa Shoppa,” the B-side for the “Parklife”-single, and understandably so. The one thing that immediately gets noticed is the fact that most of the songs are much louder and rawer than their album counterparts. However, that doesn’t make them less interesting since the studio flourishes may have embellished the songs, but rarely made them better.

The introductory trio of songs immediately announces the crowd is not in for an evening of easy listening. The brass-band-goes-punk of “The Great Escape,” the hard-hitting “Jubilee” and the boisterous “Popscene” turn quirky pop songs into raving rockers that prove the band – especially Coxon – could kick out the jams if it wanted. From there on, it’s an alternation of the expected/enthusiastically received pop singles (“End of a Century,” “Girls & Boys,” “Country House”), dirty played rock (a superb “Advert,” an ultra-short “Bank Holiday”, “Coping”) and stuff you wouldn’t really expect to work in a live context, such as “To the End,” “This Is a Low” and “The Universal.” Fortunately, they’re all good, especially “To the End” that doesn’t even suffer from Laetitia Sadler’s absence. In fact, there are only a few songs that are a bit disappointing. Apart from a dragging “She’s So High,” “For Tomorrow” sounds merely decent, suffering from a sub-par contribution from Albarn, while “Mr. Robinson’s Quango” sounds as directionless as its album counterpart. But, like I said, the highlights are definitely in the majority: apart from the ones I mentioned, there’s still the delicious near-cacophony at the end of “Country House” (and those falsetto vocals, is that Albarn or a Japanese fan?), the tracksuit kitsch of “Girls & Boys” and an affecting version of “Yuko and Hiro.” During the entire gig, the band’s in complete control. Rowntree is an excellent metronome, bass player Alex James squeezes some damn catchy bass-lines out of his instrument, while Coxon alternates conventional rhythm playing with sharp slashes of noise and an inspired use of feedback and distortion. Not a breathtaking document nor the trip through kitsch one might have expected, Live at the Budokan confirms the previous albums weren’t flukes. The Japanese girls must have realized this, as they seem to scream their tiny lungs out. One last remark: extra kudos go to funny man Coxon for wearing a Lenny Klavitz t-shirt.

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Blur (1997)

8

Beetlebum / Song 2 / Country Sad Ballad Man / M.O.R. / On Your Own / Theme from Retro / You’re So Great / Death of a Party / Chinese Bombs / I’m Just a Killer for Your Love / Look Inside America / Strange News from Another Star / Movin’ On / Essex Dogs

After the whole Blur vs. Oasis mumbo jumbo Blur needed something else, something spanking new that didn’t reek of competition, resentment and money. Moreover, with The Great Escape, the bleak third part to its Britpop-trilogy, the band seemed to suggest that chapter was finished, and over and done with. The smells of decomposition were all over the place, so to speak, and luckily the band did what it was expected to do. Instead of turning the whole British-ness into a lame gimmick, elements from indie rock, electronica and lo-fi were incorporated in the sound. The main guy responsible was probably Coxon, who had never cared that much about the band’s image the way Albarn had, and who had always had more US-oriented tastes in music. So, despite Albarn’s disgust with America and its culture (a point he made clear over and over again), the bands sheds off the quirky pop tricks for the most part, choosing a looser and more experimental direction instead. Well, they had always been less conventional than many people considered them to be – just listen carefully to the previous albums and you’ll realize there’s much more than meets the ears – but now they nearly seemed to plunge into the unknown for the most part.

Read album reviews of similar or related artists: Elastica

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