Blur's folky, emotional new album leaves Britpop for dead. Woo-Hoo!
Damon Albarn is spitting mad. He's just seen the new issue of Britain's
new rock weekly, New Musical Express, which contains the following lead
news item: "Suede Deliver H-Bomb - Puzzle Commences Over New Album Title."
Crushed into the corner of the page is a much smaller item about Blur's
new album, 13. "Unbelievable. . . . ," whispers an unshaven,
sockless Albarn. He stalks off to call his manager and publicist.
Albarn was once the cheek, sarcastic, brainy scamp of the Britpop playground;
more likely to wipe his nose on his sleeve than wear his heart there. He
was a drunken jumping bean who delightd in ridiculing and tormenting his
peers, whether it was sneering at Liam Gallagher's pround claim to have
read only one book ever, or stealing London Suede frontman Brett Anderson's
grilfriend, Justine Frischmann of Elastica. Now, Albarn is keen to impart,
he is wiser, more mature, more emotional-and he has a new album (Blur's
sixth) to prove it. Yet, it seems the comparative size of his and old rival
Anderson's press coverage is still enough to send Albarn into a jealous
rage.
To promote 13, Blur are holding court in a converted pub in East London
for three days, meeting scores representatives of the world's press who
are more interested in the band then ever in the wake of their 1997 hit
single "Song 2." "That song is no-attention-span music,"
says guitarist Graham Coxon. "It's just about a rlease of energy."
Where Oasis scored in America by being dumb emotional lugs, Blur's more
artful, less impassioned music was found wanting. 13 replaces its predecessors'
vaudeville characters and clever- clever wordplay with empathy and first-person
candor. Its seems that the band, has found a little soul.
"I went into the studio write 13 acoustic folk songs, and we went
on a journey," says Albarn, back from the phoneand calm once more.
His bright blue eyes are on permanent full beam, his voice low and measured.
"As long as it worked emotionally at the end, it was fine." On
13, Albarn bitterly details his breakup with Frischmann, and alludes to
her long-rumored dabblings with heroin. He also obliquely refers to reports
that Frischmann had reunited with old flame Anderson. Hence, it becomes
apparent the actual source of Alban's consternation at the NME article
is not that Anderson's story is bigger than his, but that is mentions how
the London Suede's album title begins with the letter H.
"Well, everyone knows what starts with an H, don't they?" he
snorts. "I was in a relationship that didn't allow me to be myself.
Which is why I'm no longer in it. But I also realized me being more myself
was not going to get rid of all the hype. It was actually going to make
it much worse. That's why I'm so annoyed with the NME-all those little
digs are what's bad about British music. It means we're perpetually ridiculed
in America. It didn't occur to me that [the breakup] was going to be an
issue this year."
He is being disingenuous, but could be forgiven-the pain of his separation
from Frischmann is still clearly visible on his face. 13 is Albarn's version
of Marvin Gaye's divorce album, Here, My Dear. Another comparison can be
made with R.E.M.'s latest, UP, also the sound of a veteran white guitar
band immersing itself in dissonance and keyboard-led ambient-rock, while
the singer lays himself open like never before. But R.E.M. included a lyric
sheet for the first time with UP; Blur have not, and one can see why. On
the song "Trailerpark," Albarn murmurs, "I lost my girl
to the Rolling Stones." This is a reference, says Albarn, to the 1970
movie Performance, in which Mick Jagger is enmeshed in a spiral of drug-induced
decadence and decay. Then there's "1992," where Albarn whispers,
"You loved my bed, you took the other instead." Finally, in the
album's haunting coda, he croaks, "I've got no distance left to run."
It's hardly easy-listening, especially as Albarn's bitter words come
cloaked in Blur's least pop-friendly sonics to date-a factor that will
undoubtedly cause the band difficulties in America as they seek to build
on the success of "Song 2." "Well, that single is part of
American culture now," counters Albarn. "And we're doing [13's
first single] 'Tender' on Letterman with a Harlem gospel choir. If was
can't get it right there, we ain't ever gonna get it right. That's our
best shot."
"It's the most ambitious record by a British guitar band since
OK Computer," gushes Stephen Jones, A&R editor of Britian's record
industry trade magazine, Music Week, "And it's the most from-the heart
songwriting that Damon's ever delivered. He's turned 30. Conquering that
world isn't as important to him anymore."
"I can't go back from what we've done on 13," Albarn says.
"Everything now has to be 100 percent of myself, which is exhilarating,
but it's also quite daunting. It's been about opening up the floodgates,
really."
