From "terribly un-rock 'n roll" Colchester come bright sparks
Blur, cocky groovers with a promising single "She's So High".
If your early schooldays were a dull, uneventful affair, then you certainly
weren't in the same class as studying hip-swivellers Blur.
"Our school got burnt down seven times in two years," explains
wide-eyed vocalist Damon, "and in the end they found it was our teacher
who was doing it. He said in court it was because he'd been overlooked
for the deputy headship and he couldn't cope anymore.. "But he was
still teaching us at the time...burning down the school at night and coming
in the next morning and saying 'Sorry children, someone has set fire to
the school again, so we're going to have to move to another building.'
" This kind of anarchic anecdote sounds like it's straight out of
fantasy but Damon swears it's true. The teacher was put away for six years,
he adds, dramatically.
In the punk heyday, it was the done thing to drift through school and
on to art college. Both Blur guitarist Graham and bassist Alex were were
art students before quitting for music, Damon was at drama school in East
London before swapping theatre for gigs. Picking up drummer Dave from their
hometown Colchester scene, the four formed a band called Seymour. They
sounded like The Wolfhounds, and resembled a ragged, speed-freak Stone
Roses (ie, not very good). Enter Food Records, who are developing a knack
for taking average bands from the London circuit and helping them fulfil
their potential. Having succeeded with Jesus Jones - previously an appallingly
bland outfit called Camouflage - the label signed Seymour and went to work.
The band changed their name, cleared up their identity and - KER-CHING!
- cash-tills started quavering.
This week Blur release their debut 45, a timely, mesmeric dance-trance
12-inch called 'She's So High'. Destined to crack the Top 60 at their first
attempt, the powerfully swirling single bears out the craving for Blur
which has come, not just from The Business (including a recently signed
£80,000 publishing deal with MCA) but from an already burgeoning
following. Everyone wants a piece of Blur. The single is a central point
between the current indie Ride-style guitar groups to their left and the
acidic Manc mobs to their right. In the middle, occupying a more groove-oriented
position than Carter (USM), Blur are a psychedelic, less formularised version
of labelmates Jesus Jones. They're cocky, attractive and flog loads of
T-shirts. If the next stop's the charts, first there's time for a brief
diverson.
To celebrate the release of 'She's So High' we decide to 'do' the interview
back in Colchester, where three of the band and I all started out - not
far from the aforementioned fire-raising school. It's symbolic that we
leave London Liverpool Street in a blaze of sunshine and arrive in Essex
to a grey, overcast Friday afternoon. When Blur grab Top Of The Pops status
they'll be the first group with Colchester connections to 'make it' in
years. Colchester, the oldest market town in Britain, once the jewel-like
outpost in the Roman Empire, is a claustrophobically conservative enviroment
to grow up in: its spurious 'nightlife' being governed by two words...SMART
CASUAL. It's a terribly un-rock 'n' roll place, at weekends the squaddies
from the local garrison go into town to drink their wages and harass the
locals. Living here is like living in a wet sponge.
"When I was at school," says Graham, "we were asked to
bring in photos of what people thought of Colchester and everyone just
brought in pictures of men digging holes. I took pictures of gravestones...it's
death for young people, this place." And Blur? They're the resurrection
- which starts at opening time. The Blur drink is Cider & Pernod in
halves (Damon: "15 of these and I'm away"). Andy Ross from Food
Records has come along to chaperone the band, which brings up the topic
of the record company. Ross: "This lot, oh, they've sold out. But
we're a cool label to sell out to." Food, to their credit, don't so
much dictate to bands as direct them - a gentle moulding effect. In Blur's
case they've drawn out the more accessible points of the band and focused
their 'image'. The band look cutely rebellious now, compared to their Second
Hand Clothes Shop look before. Musically they fit snugly into what's happening
at the moment.
"But we can't help that," says Damon shrugging his shoulders,
"we're just one of those lucky bastard bands who've come out with
the right record at the right time. All the material we started off with
a year ago is suddenly 'in' now. Like 'She's So High' was the first song
we ever wrote - and that hasn't changed at all. Obviously we've been given
advice but we don't worry about it. If people want to percive that we've
been moulded then OK, that's cool." "We were very messy before,"
adds Graham, "But we're just learning what to do with ourselves, finding
our identity. I mean it's quite obvious what we are now. A f---ing groovy
band." I'm playing Devils' Advocate here. "Yeah, but it's obvious
that we're still going to look different to other bands," returns
Damon lucidly, "because we've got something that draws people to us.
There are fundamental reasons why people like bands. They're drawn to certain
groups because they WANT them - whether it's in an emotional, sexual or
intellectual way, they want the band. That's us."
Damon is a good frontman to have in a group. Despite looking dopey,
he's like a less dicatorial version of Jesus Jones' Mike Edwards, talkative
and volatile. On stage his theatrics include throwing himself off the PA
and thrashing around like he's just plugged his hand into a light socket.
"To feel ill at the end of a gig, that's great. That's what I'd have
liked to have achieved when I was acting but I couldn't because I was so
consious of myself. In a funny way you can get away with more in a band
than you can when you're an actor."
Although in interviews he deterorates in a dribbling mass of rambling
quotes, his middle class tearaway flaws are part of Blur's appeal. That
chemical balance which critics say is always inherent in all good bands
is some way apparent in Blur - Graham acting as the foil to Damon's drunken
garbage, Alex the soft-spoken Bournemouth outsider and Dave the quiet type.
"I used to get beaten up quite a lot when I lived round here,"
Damon admits, "but maybe I'm the sort of person who asks for it because
I sound quite arrogant when I talk. "I wouldn't say I was particulary
volatile but...oh, alright, I am. I'm horribly cynical. I don't suffer
fools gladly. Anything which I think is in the least bit foolish really
irratates me. Like people who make a thing out of being weak and insecure,
I hate that. But I'm a big fool anyway, so maybe I just hate myself."
"Wow," says Graham sarcastically. "That's deep." "Aww,
shut up." Got it? Blur's "destructive love song", 'She's
So High', the most frustrated, pent-up moment of their live set, is released
on Monday. Blur as a band, with their unpredictable, vunerable character
and hybrid pop music will be on 'Top Of The Pops' by next March. Latest.
