Tag Archives: blur

#1344: Blur – Tender

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My first impression of the studio version of ‘Tender’ wasn’t one of a positive note. After seeing music videos for Blur on the television quite regularly in the mid-2000s and liking nearly every song that came along with them, I was brainwashed into requesting Blur: The Best Of, I think, for my 11th birthday in 2006. On it was all the good stuff. ‘Beetlebum’, ‘The Universal’, ‘Girls & Boys’. You know, the singles. But there was ‘Tender’, a song that was almost eight minutes, right in the middle of it all. Eight minutes more or less feel like 30 when you’re 11, especially if you’re trying to focus on one thing for that amount of time. I was bored. Might have even fast-forwarded through it. But it might have been the music video for it (below) that made me come around to the song. It’s a live performance. The band play the track with a lot more gusto, the London Community Choir really make their presence known when it’s their time to sing, That, I could work with. It took me a long time to come round on the tune as it appears on 13 as a result.

13. The Blur album heavily influenced by Damon Albarn’s breakdown after his breakup with longtime girlfriend Justine Frischmann. It’s the band at the most experimental and downright insane at times, and it’s my favourite of Blur’s. ‘Tender’ starts it all. I think it and ‘No Distance Left to Run’ are the two tracks on there that tackle the breakup subject head-on. While the latter captures Albarn probably at the point where the split has just happened and left him devastated, ‘Tender’ seems to depict him where enough time has passed but he’s still left waiting for love to come his way again. A lot of sadness links the two tracks together, they’re almost like sister songs, but that tone of determination and optimism from ‘Tender’ allows it to seem much more upbeat than it really us. Plus it’s played in a higher tempo, so that would obviously help too. The proceedings are aided by Graham Coxon’s lyrical section, a chorus in itself, “Oh my baby, oh my baby, oh why, oh my”, that is usually repeated by thousands of concert-goers for minutes on end after the band finish playing it live. It’s like a national anthem, almost.

So, yeah, almost eight minutes this song goes on for and it starts the album off. I see comments online that openly admit to beginning 13 with ‘Bugman’, feeling that ‘Tender’ is out of place and gets things underway too slowly and preferring the song under any instance it’s done in a live setting in comparison. I’ve come to appreciate the studio ‘Tender’ and the live ‘Tender’ in their own respective ways. But honestly, I can understand those people’s sentiments. You can hear edits in the studio track where a verse is cut off to make way for the guitar solo (about four minutes in). At 5:17, the percussion cuts out quite sharply to make way for Albarn’s arriving vocal. For the meditative, contemplative track ‘Tender’ is, it can get quite messy production wise. But then again, 13 is a very messy album in a great, great way. So in the context of it, I think ‘Tender’ is a fine opener. Plus, it’s all the more better being followed by ‘Bugman’, because its buzzing guitar hitting your ears right after ‘Tender’ fades out is the big sign that the album won’t be quite what you’re expecting.

#1334: Blur – Tame

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So Blur’s The Great Escape was released 30 years ago this September just gone. The anniversary will be celebrated with a special 30th anniversary edition, a reissue that, when it was first announced, was mocked and ridiculed by many a Blur fan because of the over-the-top eyesore of a cover that comes along with it. I was surprised when I heard the album was getting this treatment. Although I like it quite a bit myself, I’m a guy who prefers it over Parklife, the LP and the time surrounding it are things that even the members of Blur don’t look back on too fondly. Damon Albarn once described Escape as “messy” and having songs that would be good for a musical. But with this whole Britpop revival thing going on now – Oasis reuniting, Pulp reuniting, Suede releasing new material, Supergrass out and about – someone must have had the idea to capitalise on the occasion.

‘Tame’ isn’t on The Great Escape, but was released as a B-side on the ‘Stereotypes’ single in 1996. I lurk on the videos for the song on YouTube, and some comments go along the lines of, “Oh, this song’s so good! How didn’t this make it on the album?” Well, it’s most likely the case that it didn’t exist during the actual sessions for the album and was written and recorded after its release as B-side material, as bands would regularly do back in those days. Another thing that’s regularly agreed about the song, is how it’s sort of a precursor to the inward-looking, first-person narrative material that was to come on the band’s next album in ’97. Albarn sings about seeing two planes in the sky, game shows on the TV and his thoughts on, I’m guessing, his girlfriend’s confusion about the weather. And among all this is a chorus of the word ‘Tame’, sung repetitively in falsetto. What it has to do with the rest of the song, I still don’t know to this day.

Overall, I think it’s a song about boredom and that sometimes existential dread that comes with waking up in the morning and having to face another day. I just get that from the lyrics and the minor-keyness of everything. There’s something a little spooky about ‘Tame’, a little uncanny. Like, those erratic synths on the right-hand side. They scratch an itch, but they’re very randomly played. Albarn must have just felt like messing around on the keys to shake things up a bit. The short-tape delay effect added to the drums makes what would be a very ordinary drum break into a very effective one. And those constant “Tame” vocals are kind of weird enough, but they’re suddenly made all the more strange when at four minutes, the choice was made to switch from Albarn’s falsetto vocal to his chest vocals where he sounds like he’s almost yelling in pain. I’m a big fan of this one. The band don’t like that period of their time, but a few of their best B-sides were made during it. Too bad that with this B-side mark, they will never regularly play it live on the regular. But they did once upon a time, and you can hear that below.

#1322: Blur – Sweet Song

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Blur’s Think Tank is the one album of the band’s that sticks out like a sore thumb to many a Blur fan. Why? Well, ’cause Graham Coxon isn’t on there. When the band started work on what would become the album in 2001, Damon Albarn didn’t really want to do it anyway because of the success he’d had with Gorillaz earlier in the year. But when Coxon didn’t show up, he was in rehab for his alcoholism but this hadn’t been communicated to the other members, Albarn took it as a slight and started work with bassist Alex James and drummer Dave Rowntree. Coxon eventually joined them, but the mood was tense and unsettled. They made ‘Battery in Your Leg’ during this time, the track marking the end of the band as we’d known it in its place as the close on the album. Things fell apart though, and Coxon left, leaving Blur with an unusual-looking three-piece lineup.

The band carried on the recording sessions in this new configuration. But although he probably wouldn’t say it out loud, Damon Albarn was missing his best mate. He was in a waiting room one day, saw this picture of Coxon on the cover of a magazine and was inspired. The inspiration resulted in ‘Sweet Song’, a sad, sad number all based on Albarn’s disappointment in the whole falling out situation. A few songs on Think Tank allude to his and Coxon’s relationship. But it’s ‘Sweet Song’ that lays it all on out on the table. “What am I to do? / Someone here’s really not happy” – the first lines of the song – sets the scene rather plain and simply. The track centres around a piano loop, harmonized ‘oohing’ backing vocals and a pulsing kick, making everything sound like a warm hug to the ears. Albarn concedes that he has his own faults, making it clear that he never wanted to hurt Coxon and leaves an offer of reconciliation if ever the time was right. As we know now, this is all water under the bridge. But it was looking very bad for a while.

I heard Think Tank in full the first time in 2013, so I’d obviously heard ‘Sweet Song’ then. I don’t think I really listened to it, though, if you understand what I’m saying. Would have been years later, I want to say 2019, I really can’t pinpoint it, that I think I just searched the track up in YouTube or something. I listened again, and it was an immediate feeling of “Oh, well, I should obviously put this one on the phone now,” ’cause it was obviously a very good song. Should have been listening to it for years up to that point. I’m all for songs about friendships. I’m sure I’ve written about a few on here. But there’s something about this one, especially. Albarn got all vulnerable on the previous album 13 regarding the breakup with his ex, and here he was again (with the producer of 13 working only on this one track) dealing with the cut ties with his mate he’d known since secondary school. And with such sincerity. It’s all too much.

#1314: Blur – Sunday Sunday

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Blur’s ‘Sunday Sunday’ was released as the third and final single from the group’s second album, Modern Life Is Rubbish, in October 1993. It was the highest-placed out of three, peaking at an, I guess, respectable 26 in the charts. And yet, out of those three, the track is definitely the one that’s talked about the least. Not discussed in the pantheon of the great Blur singles. When I was growing up and looking at MTV2 or any alternative music video channel very much every day, if there was to be a Blur video playing, it was never the one for ‘Sunday Sunday’. Maybe once or twice, I think. And that amount of plays was never gonna make an impression. It wasn’t until the summer of 2013 when I went through Blur’s discography, listened through Modern Life Is Rubbish and found I enjoyed it almost immediately. Even made it one of the first songs I played on the Sunday morning radio show I began to host later that year in uni, I was hooked immediately.

A critic once stated that the track imitated ‘Lazy Sunday’ by Small Faces. Looking at the two, it’s very clear that that tune was a huge influence on this one. But while Steve Marriott and co mainly discuss annoying their neighbors with loud music, Damon Albarn and co bring the Sunday topic to the dinner table, to the family home. Albarn sings about the things people get up to, especially British people, on those Sunday afternoons and evenings when the parents and kids have their time together before school and work start again the next day. That includes the usual Sunday roasts, seeing on entertainment’s on the television, and obviously those good old naps that sometimes you don’t even plan. Where you’re sitting in front of the TV, you close your eyes and you open them up to then find out that a good hour-and-a-half has passed. Both ‘Lazy Sunday’ and ‘Sunday Sunday’ mention sleeping in their lyrics, just goes to show how important and treasured the act is during that last day of the week.

Leaning into the whole, “We’re a British band and we write about British things” theme the band started on this album and proceed to for their next two, the music on ‘Sunday Sunday’ is very East End of London. A Cockney kness-up music hall with a bit of a swing to it, with Damon Albarn exaggerated the Bri’ishness of in his vocal. Very suitable that a couple B-sides to the single were their covers of ‘Daisy Bell’ and ‘Let’s All Go Down the Strand’, both of which none of the bandmembers are particularly fond of. Dave Rowntree starts things off with a booming tom-tom pattern. The band joins in after, Graham Coxon performing a particularly spirited guitar intro, and Albarn comes in on the vocal not too long after. The song soon explodes for the chorus when the harmonies and an organ are brought into the production. There’s a nice little trumpet solo. Who doesn’t like a bit of brass? And things then get a bit frantic when the band go into double-time for the instrumental break. Coxon brings out a slide guitar, Albarn works his fingers out for a carousel organ solo, which all slows down emphatically to the song’s original tempo for the final chorus. I like how that final “sleep” at the end seems to go on forever after all the instruments stop playing. Very nice production trick. But I like the package as a whole. If you want to see it being made fun of, here’s a YouTube Poop that heavily features its video.

#1286: Blur – Stereotypes

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Up until The Great Escape in 1995, it was the trend that whatever the first song on a Blur album was had already been released as the first single in advance. ‘She’s So High’ for Leisure, ‘For Tomorrow’ on Modern Life Is Rubbish, and ‘Girls & Boys’ on Parklife. ‘Stereotypes’, although being the opener on The Great Escape when that came around in the autumn of 1995, bucked that trend. It was the main contender to be the lead representative, but then ‘Country House’ – the second tune on the record – was chosen instead. We all know how that went down. Nah, instead, ‘Stereotypes’ was released as the album’s third single in February ’96. But for the crazy successful year 1994 to 1995 was for Blur, ‘Stereotypes’ is a pretty perfect way to open an album released amidst the madness, with its frantic synthesizers and stabbing guitar chords.

I came across the track myself pretty much the same way I got to know all the other Blur singles. Through seeing their music videos on the television. Although it wasn’t on MTV2. I distinctly remember seeing it on Q, if anyone remembers that channel. Blur videos were usually playing on the telly, and this was during a time when the band weren’t even together. ‘Stereotypes’ was one of those live performance montage music videos you usually get when a band’s on the road and don’t have time for those two-day video shoots. Nothing like their cooler, cinematic videos, but the song sounded very, very nice. When I was 11/12, I was mostly into the songs I saw on TV, and so compilations were my usual request for gifts for older bands whose videos were frequently played. Blur’s 2000 Best Of didn’t have ‘Stereotypes’ on there, unfortunately. I have the feeling I knew this before owning it. I still got the comp anyway. But I downloaded ‘Stereotypes’ on its own a while afterwards.

The song’s kinda strange in that it’s about the activities of swingers, “wife-swapping” as it’s explicitly referred to in the lyrics. Damon Albarn sings about a woman who gets a little frisky with another man while her husband is away, having their way with each other in different locations of the house and in full view of the neighbours. The ‘stereotypes’ that there must be more to life than are the usual doting wife and adoring husband that I guess you would usually find in a faithful marriage. Albarn tells us to live a little, bring in another couple and get a bit freaky to spice things up. Graham Coxon’s guitar playing is a highlight. It’s kinda buried in the mix, but when you pick it out, you can hear how it sounds like he’s attacking those strings. A very rough sound to those chords, you gotta love it. Some websites last the line of the song as ‘You should go on another bender/Before you come to offend her’, which is a little menacing to say the least. I think Albarn sings ‘before you come to an end, uhhhh’, meaning “before you die”. I like how the song slows in tempo while that line’s being sung too. ‘Stereotypes’ is a bit of a forgotten single. Doesn’t help that the band don’t look on The Great Escape with the highest of regards. It’ll be a long time before they play it live again, is what I’m saying. I don’t think it’s too bad.