Penthouse & Pavement

Memories, shmemories. We’ve all got them. And whilst I’m not keen on the now-continual wave of reforming bands gracing all manner of festivals (Wouldn’t expect less from mediocrities like Dodgy, but Faith No More, what are you doing???), I’ve been in two minds about the reformation of Blur. Of course, they were mighty, consistent and important, but shouldn’t we just let Dave get on with being a would-be politician and newspaper analyst on Sky News? Let Alex expire in a fog of cigarette smoke and cheese? Leave Graham to his, er, solo career, and Damon to being the Bono It’s (Kind Of) OK To Like? Couldn’t they have just let sleeping dogs lie?

I withered and wavered and am still in two minds, but will excuse them primarily because, well, they never actually split up as far as I can tell. Graham had enough, they drafted in Nick McCabe for the tour and then went on “indefinite hiatus”. So far, so cliche.

Although yesterday (14/06/09) Blur played what was, by all accounts, a triumphant, strident and emotional comeback gig at East Anglian Railway Museum in Colchester, this post is not about Blur 2009 and the merits or purpose of said comeback. However, their reunion does give opportunistic, bandwagon carousers like me licence to reminisce, and so this post is about about how Blur somehow (and God only knows how) fought the “INDIE WARS(TM)” and won. Yes. Forget your Oasises, your Radioheads and your Coldplays (one Fierce Panda release does not an indie band make). Forget even - and this hurts to the core as they remain the supreme teenage love of my love - your Suede’s. In the post-Smithsian hangover terra firma of British Indie/Pop/Rock that intoxicated and so preoccupied the British Isles much like a recoiling, slightly ashamed post-WWII Germany, Blur emerged, eventually, victorious as a potent smelling salt to stir a nation. Of all their peers, proteges and predecessors, only Radiohead come close in terms of quality of back catalogue (Muse and perhaps Coldplay may yet). But Blur win because they looked for the popular, tabloid vote and got it. They went (literally) to the races and backed a winner. They did this whilst managing to retain not only the almost unanimous support of the music press, but of the broadsheet press as well. You may disagree, but this is my party so I’ll give out the prizes.

My first memory of them is from an interview in Smash Hits when their second single, “There’s No Other Way” bounced it’s way into the charts on a sea of Manchester-flavoured “baggy” (there was even a mini interview with Tim Burgess of The Charlatans in the same issue), settling at the very dizzy heights of number two. The year is 1990 and there they were, three incredibly floppy fringes (I don’t think Dave ever succumbed). The journalist made constant reference to them wearing beads and being “hippies”. Hippies? Yes, we can chuckle now. The accompanying video gave way to gossip in my school playground, featuring as it did a character from kids TV programme Grange Hill. The follow-up single “Bang” was a much watered-down variation of the same, and when debut album, “Leisure”, arrived one reviewer intimated that the title must have summed up their approach to its writing and recording. A tepid effort by all accounts.

the UK indie music press switch allegiances faster than a swing voter; suddenly Manchester and “Baggy” were out, and anything from the South (mostly London or London-based) = IN. “PopScene”, their inbetween albums single and still one of my endearing faves of their for the horns alone, entered the charts at number 32, completely disappearing from the charts the very next week. What!? Blur Flop! Everyone laughed a little bit (myself included), eager to see the fey boys fail. That’ll teach ‘em. The Scene That Celebrates Itself threatened to engulf them, to commit them to the history book of indie rock along with Chapterhouse, Lush and Slowdive and the Pale Saitns, but no, they had a few more cards up their sleeves.

Rock journalism is good sport and Damon Albarn has always seemed to enjoy toying with interviewers, simultaneously giving an articulate account of what he’s expected to say thrown together with a few deliberately contrary soundbites. His slightly annoying appropriation of all things English (this would later be expanded to British); halcyon days of homemade lemonade and cricket pavillions didn’t wash well with some. And enlisting the services of XTC recluse Andy Partridge as producer for their second album “Modern Life Is Rubbish” seemed a deliberate attempt by Albarn to validate this ideal. In the end Blur forewent Partridge’s skills, turning instead to rather safer hands of Stephen Street. “Modern Life In Rubbish” was at the time, and still is, a good album. “For Tomorrow”, “Chemical World” and “Sunday Sunday” are classics amongst their singles cannon. This album is significant in that it marks the emergence of Graham Coxon - Guitar Hero. On release, though supportive and largely favourable, the reviews did not - how could they - realise the potential of what was to come with their next offering.

Is there anything to be said about Parklife that has not been said many, many times before? Long for an album in those days, I can recall vividly turning to the NME review the week of it’s release, seeing that had been given star billing, a massive, montage photo of the four protagonists, and scanning down, hands trembling upon seeing it had been give a 10/10. A perfect album. But was it really? For an album to contain so many memorable, inventive songs in different styles yet retain the distinctive quality of the group is a feat I’m not sure has been accomplished since. New Wave (“Trouble In The Message Centre”), Lounge (“To The End”), synth-pop (“Girls and Boys” / “London Loves”), Alt-Rock (“This Is A Low”) being prime examples of this. Nestling beneath the bravado and arrogance on show it seems, is the desperate, need for it’s two main players (Albarn and Coxon) to be heard. That there could be no ther way: They were demanding to be listened to. Coxon manages to coax a profoundly eloquent guitar line on practically every song, without need for repetition or cliche. Albarn’s lyrics managed to sum up a national mood and provoke a new one at the same time. But Britpop is too anaemic, too manufactured a movement to be their legacy.

I’m going to end on “Parklife“‘s follow-up record, “The Great Escape” and the infamous, longest-drawnout-piece-of-nonsense-in-history that was their singles showdown with Oasis.* The story ends here because, from this point on the story is told, it’s out there. The forlorn ghost of music past looks through the window of music present and future, wondering what it will become. We have entered and are fully immersed in the modern, ubiquitous world, where the shopping habits of Meg Matthews are noteworthy and the presence of Sleeper in the Top 10 is, with hindsight, noteworthy too. Blur won the battle, and although worldwide sales of “What’s The Story Morning Glory?” put Blur and “The Great Escape” momentarily in the shade, in that moment, Britpop, officially, was beyond resuscitation.

*Ironic perhaps, because “Roll With It” was the better track, says me: a blast of vivid technicolor, when contrasted against so much of their stodgy, grey and tired songbook and more than a match for the Blur-by-numbers “Country House”.

(Originally posted on 14 June, 2009)

Elsewhere on the internet
NME review of Blur “comeback” gig
Fake DIY review of the very same
Excellent footage of Blur recording ‘Parklife’