More about: Blur

Damon Albarn: the man who simply refuses to sit still. As he prepares to release his second solo album later this year, and as Gorillaz head out on tour again, he’d be forgiven if afterwards he decided to take a well-earned break before touching a musical instrument again. And yet, in recent interviews, he has tantalisingly teased possibilities of a future comeback for his first, and perhaps most beloved, project: Blur. 

The eclectic union of Albarn’s songwriting, the intrinsic guitar magic of Graham Coxon, bass maverick and cheesemaker Alex James and understated drummer and former Labour councillor Dave Rowntree has provided the world with much of its most imaginative, cheeky and life-affirming soundtracks. They were the Britpop poster children, the only band to ever successfully sell “woo-hoo” as a chorus, and a band who grew up with their audience. As the '90s progressed, the satirical character pieces grew into grungy snapshots of self-reflection, and by 2003’s Coxon-less Think Tank, they had a discography to rival their heroes. 

And with that statement, a question lingers in the distance: in a crowd full of ‘Parklife’s and ‘Beetlebum’s, which Blur cuts have gone overlooked? For any newcomers, a treasure trove of album tracks and B-sides lie beneath the greatest hits, and they are ripe for discovering. They showcase the raw talent and genius behind the band; why Blur defy restriction, label and manufactured chart battles, and why they are one of the best acts of their generation. 

‘Inertia’

Emerging from a hangover of shoegaze and Madchester’s baggy shadow, 1991’s Leisure was a pleasant, if thematically confused debut. Despite this, the highlights stood out strong, with ‘There’s No Other Way’ being the band’s first Big Hit. Lurking on the B-side, however, was ‘Inertia’, a track that’s easy to disregard, but hard to forget. Drenched in trippy guitars and ethereal harmonies, it’s a carefully crafted piece that reflects an early sense of artistry hidden behind the bravado of the A-side. 

‘When the Cows Come Home’

This is Blur in full vaudevillian theatrical dressing, and it is glorious. With a full brass section behind them, Albarn embraces the pomp of the instrumentation, and is transformed on the mic into an esoteric music-hall entertainer. Subtle keyboards tinkle away behind the brass, and “la-dee-da”s accentuate the bridge. A B-side to Modern Life is Rubbish single ‘For Tomorrow’, the lyrical themes of disillusionment with the farce of city life are continued here; “you mustn't let yourself sink financially” Albarn gleefully taunts amongst the pantomime horns. Modern life may be rubbish, but Blur were singing it out with flair.  

‘Trouble in the Message Centre’

As huge of an album as Parklife is and was, ‘Trouble in the Message Centre’ is one of the few tracks that often gets left in the dust, which is an unfathomable shame. A meandering synthesiser dances with Coxon truly giving everything on the guitar; it’s one of the albums rockier outings, but just as immaculately composed. Using the lyrical metaphor of the message centre as the human brain, Albarn paints a hedonistic picture of wild partying duelling with burgeoning responsibility. The lyrical content, married with the frenetic energy of the track, gives Parklife one of its hidden highlights. 

‘Best Days’

One of the more introspective moments of 1995’s The Great Escape, ‘Best Days’ is a poetic and acoustic ode that laments the rapid speed at which life passes by. Sandwiched between the effervescent and perky hits ‘Country House’ and ‘Charmless Man’ is a touching tribute to the “leafy nowhere” we find ourselves in, and the lost souls working late shifts and waiting for something better. Fans of the band often note the thematic cohesion between Modern Life is Rubbish, Parklife and The Great Escape, and group them together as a trilogy that uses London as a lens to portray the melancholia of life (given the imaginative ‘Life Trilogy’ title). If we are to go with this analysis, then ‘Best Days’ is the thematic climax of the trilogy; the emotions, messages and characters are brought together amidst a backdrop of “Bow bells” and “hotel cells”, wandering directionless in London’s urban wilderness looking for purpose. 

‘Yuko and Hiro’

Whilst the common story is that Blur left Britpop behind on 1997’s self-titled album, an earlier departure comes in the form of The Great Escape’s closer, ‘Yuko and Hiro’. Gone are the choppy guitars, playful “la-dee-da”s and in their place are drum machines and plastic, uncanny synths and pianos. Albarn paints a picture of a workplace where the titular Yuko and Hiro meet and fall in love, despite hardly getting the time to spend together as they are tethered to their jobs. To emphasise the story, the music is given an artificial gloss, almost as if it is music that would be played at Yuko and Hiro’s company as they spend their lives working. ‘Yuko and Hiro’ illustrates the quiet futility of holding onto love through personal upheaval, a perfect coda to Blur’s Britpop era. 

‘You’re So Great’

For this offcut from Blur, 1997’s self-titled LP, Coxon was handed the songwriting and vocal reigns for a brief moment, and it is certainly glorious. Reflecting their direction at the time, the song is a lo-fi guitar piece that makes beautiful use of Coxon’s unassuming and intimate vocal style. Much like his later Blur spotlight ‘Coffee & TV’, ‘You’re So Great’ is a lyrical picture of an awkward outsider who is perennially “sad, drunk and poorly”, yet biblically “feel(s) the light” when reminded of their love. Adorned with two slide guitar solos, this is an underappreciated respite amongst an album of heavy beats and overdriven noise rock, one that we can only thank Coxon for. 

‘All Your Life’

Hiding on the B-side of ‘Beetlebum’ is ‘All Your Life’; a messy cataclysm of grunge and glam rock. If there is a parallel universe out there where Pavement wrote ‘Oh! You Pretty Things’ instead of David Bowie, then Albarn had a glimpse into it, and came back with this song. The “la, la”s are still there, but they are sounding more dissonant with age. Reflecting on their recent past in “teenage magazines and shopping malls”, Albarn calls out a country that “tattooed (its) past all over me” with frantic desperation, backed by Coxon and James at the top of their game. Despite being a mere B-side, Albarn revived the song for his Everyday Robots solo tour, which saw a whole new audience fall in love with it once more. 

‘Battle’

Parklife may be Blur’s most popular album, but 1999’s 13 might be their most quietly acclaimed. A trippy, noisy and abrasive listen heavily inspired by Albarn’s breakup with Elastica’s Justine Frischmann, the band drew the curtain on the 1990s as a more sombre and introspective reflection of their former selves. ‘Battle’ arrives directly in the middle of the album’s tracklisting, and it certainly is many things. Trip-hop inspired, lyrically vague, Rowntree’s finest hour on the drumkit, 7 minutes of experimental art. It goes on tangents, it stumbles from though to thought, it reflects the state of mind after personal upheaval beautifully. When Coxon’s dirty guitar chords come through on the second chorus, they hit you like bullets of despair. A gem of a song on a gem of an album. 

‘Sweet Song’

After Albarn had begun conquering the world for a second time with Gorillaz, he returned to Blur with 2003’s Think Tank with a fresh palette of ideas and soundscapes. The elephant in the room, however, was the departure of Coxon, and the absence of their friend had affected the band, Albarn most of all. ‘Sweet Song’ was composed after he saw a photograph of Coxon, and is an apologetic plea for forgiveness and to give his friend the space he needs to heal. Rarely has a song ever illustrated its content via its title better than this; it really is a sweet song. Gentle percussion backs the acoustic arpeggios, and Albarn’s delivery is nothing but sincere; it’s impossible for your heart not to break after every “I hope you feel the same”, it really is. 

‘The Puritan’

Nine years after Think Tank’s release, and after a brief hiatus, Blur had reunited with Coxon back in his rightful place. In preparation for their momentous 2012 Olympics Closing Ceremony show in Hyde Park, they released their double A-side ‘Under the Westway/The Puritan’. Over time, ‘Under the Westway’ has deservedly been lauded amongst the very best of the band’s material, but somehow ‘The Puritan’ fell by the wayside. The song is riddled with catchy hooks, and familiar Albarn quips; “in our regalia, are we OK?” he asks, as if the time has come for the lyrical examinations of Modern Life is Rubbish to enter the 21st century. The song is pure euphoria, with eccentric synth melodies clashing with Coxon bringing the refrain to life with a drop it felt he was waiting nine years for. 

‘Thought I Was a Spaceman’

Whilst many of their peers have refused to musically evolve, Blur were enthusiastic in the art of evolution. 2015 saw them release their long-awaited eighth album The Magic Whip; sonically, it was a celebration of everything they had achieved in their lengthy career. Jaunty anthems co-existed with experimental wanderings, and nothing at all felt out of place. ‘Thought I Was a Spaceman’ is The Magic Whip’s most outward moment, a six minute psychedelic trip with xylophone-esque synthesisers and ghostly vocals from both Albarn and Coxon. The track is a testament to the imagination and creative ambition of this band, moving through space, car parks and even Hyde Park within the lyrical imagery, and the instrumentation is layered, diverse and never anything but fascinating. Whilst there is the possibility we may never get another Blur album, as long as Albarn, Coxon, James and Rowntree keep the desire to create, the world will be OK. Now, about that comeback tour… 

More about: Blur