One of most interesting feuds in the music business of the 90s was the battle of Britpop. The main event was the long drawn out battle of Oasis vs. Blur. During this second coming of the British Invasion, these two titans slurred and slandered each other in the press for quite sometime trying to convince each other who was the best band. Oasis may have maintained a string of successful albums and singles over here in the states but outside of “Girls and Boys” and “Song 2” (you know, that irresistible alt rock anthem with that infectious chorus of “Woooo Hooooo!”) Blur didn’t really catch on in the mainstream pop charts. That’s not to say they weren’t good, Blur actually flexed far more artistry in their craft where Oasis used self manufactured hype and eye-rolling ‘Oh they think they are the Beatles’ antics to fuel their popularity. As we all know, gimmicks wear thin and real artistry has to run on it’s own merits. Personally I liked both bands. Oasis had better pop songs, but Blur just seemed a bit more authentic to me. Being in my early teens and just starting to listen to music outside of the mainstream box, authenticity would soon become far more important to me. Blur’s frontman Damon Albarn eventually gained pop success with his virtual band/side project Gorillaz but now I’m trailing off.
It’s been twelve years since their last release and sixteen years with the original line up. With that sort of history and monumental highs and lows, one would think Blur would spare no expense when it comes to their latest album The Magical Whip, but instead of the jangly guitars, snooty wit, and snarling sarcasm that we’ve come to expect, we get a strange and somewhat lazy album that lacks any real gusto.
The Magical Whip starts off with “Lonesome Street,” which boasts a clumsy three chord guitar riff and nonchalant vocal delivery, that sounds purposely generic as Albarn and company are poking fun at all the world for expecting anything more. It’s almost like the band is winking at us saying “Oh you want Blur? well this is Blur!”. It might be a little insulting upon first listen but there is no denying that we are in on the joke and ready for an interesting ride.
The next track “New World Towers” shatters that joke. Instead of being faux-Blur, it comes off sounding as a whimsical version of “Feel Good Inc.” in act, I was waiting any second for a drum machine to kick in and De La Soul to show up, keeping this track from being a down tempo snore. The next track “Go Out” sort of gets things back on track though. Tight drums, fuzzy bass and guitar riff, yawning verses, and “Uh uh uh oh oh” sing-a-long choruses remind me what was so special about Blur to begin with. Blur loves all of the Britpop classics of the sixties but are far too witty to take the easy way out. We get glimmers of Kinks-meets-Small Faces hooks and riffs but where and when we least expect it. Tracks like “Mirror Ball” and “Thought I Was A Spaceman” might put you to sleep waiting for that special quirk, but when it shows up in tracks like “I Broadcast” and “Ong Ong” it not only shines, it kicks you in the teeth.
With that said, The Magic Whip is by no means a nostalgia trip. The opening track might play up the tropes ofheir 90s repertoire, the rest of The Magic Whip takes no part. For all intents and purposes, it’s a continuation of their catalogue. There are quite a few more songs on the album that remind me of Gorillaz or Damon Albarn’s solo outing than actual Blur standards, it just proves where they are as people, musicians, and artists. This unpredictable nature of artistry takes the album a notch above most cash grab nostalgia trips that most bands from their era are doing. If Oasis was still a thing, they would never have the ambition to record a song like the light island jazz of “Ghost Ship” featured late on this record. Even when it falls flat or makes you scratch your head with songs like “Pyongyang” there is no doubt this is authentic artistry.
In some ways, it feels like the theme of The Magic Whip is dislocation. Blur recorded the album in Hong Kong instead of in the comfort of a UK or a LA studio. That certain fish out of water element plays out as if art does in fact imitate life. These days, the music scene is oversaturated with over stimulated solo hipsters, over sexualized pop divas, and aging rock stars putting their last chip on bittersweet nostalgia to stay in the game, but where does Blur fit in?
Who knows? They don’t, nor do they care. All they are interested in, is picking up where they left off and crafting a unique, and sometimes ambitious album. It might not be the best album they have created, and it might not get a second listen from new fans, but I applaud them for having the guts to do an anti-reunion album. The Magic Whip sounds like Blur in 2015 just as it should. No apologies, and no nostalgia.
Rating: 4/5
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