Tag Archives: blur

#1060: Blur – Pressure on Julian

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I feel it’s fair to say that if ever anyone was to think of Blur’s Modern Life Is Rubbish album, its fourth track ‘Pressure on Julian’ wouldn’t be the first that would come to mind. That specific album comes at a weird space in Blur’s career. With it, they began to embark on the whole British music for British people aesthetic which would be their inspiration for their following two albums. But they also weren’t the massively popular band that they would become once that first following album arrived. Out of that ‘Life’ trilogy, as it’s become to be known as, Modern Life… has been my preferred record for the longest time, and while songs like ‘For Tomorrow’ or ‘Chemical World’ may be firm favourites among Blur fans, it’s the deeper cuts from there that have been right up my alley for up to 10 years now.

Actually, it was probably a re-listen to the album in about 2015 where a lot more of the songs clicked and I recognised the record’s strength as a whole. The one note that people may know about ‘Pressure on Julian’ is that the Julian in the title is a reference to Julian Cope, lead singer/songwriter for The Teardrop Explodes, who was also former bandmates with Blur’s manager at the time, Dave Balfe. The reference was only included because any lyrical/music reference (usually done intentionally by Damon Albarn) would drive Balfe insane. However, the song really has nothing to do with Cope, and if you were to have a read through of the song’s lyrics I couldn’t blame you if you were left clueless as to what Albarn was singing about here. I’m not even too sure myself. The ‘magical transit children’ phrase in the first verse was taken from some graffiti spotted during a photo shoot. But all in all, there’s not much coherency within those verses overall. Maybe the whole thing really was just a ploy to annoy their manager. With the “We planned it all this way” repetition in the choruses, it’s only come to me now that that is most likely what they were trying to achieve.

The song is led by this rolling drum pattern that I can only describe as sounding like a train pulling out of a station, joined by Alex James’s jumping bassline and Graham Coxon’s swirling guitar work. Albarn comes in on the vocal, harmonising with himself when the verses build in intensity with what sounds like the addition of more guitars in the mix, before falling into the short choruses that reach a climax with the elongated utterance of the song’s title. There’s also the notable instrumental middle part where the track’s tempo speeds up slightly bit by bit, increasing in tension before exploding into a finish with a climactic guitar chord and falling back into the train-type rhythm established at the song’s start. If only I were into my music theory or composition, maybe I could write this in a way that would make this much more informative to read. Hopefully, you’d be able to tell what I’m on about through listening to the song. And if not, you could at least watch Graham Coxon talking about the track himself. He did play on the track himself, when it comes down to it.

#1023: Blur – Peach

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This one’s a relatively new add to this long, long bunch. The track, alongside the rest of the Modern Life Is Rubbish 2012 special edition, has been in my iTunes library since 2013. But it wasn’t until a couple years ago that I properly paid attention to this particular number. I was snooping on the Blur subreddit and came across a thread which I think asked if any of the bandmembers had stated/mentioned their own personal favourite Blur songs. One response listed that guitarist Graham Coxon had once tweeted that ‘Peach’ was one of his along with a few others. Upon researching, I’ve found the tweet this was referencing. What better recommendation to give a song a shot than from the guitarist who actually played on it, right?

It hits immediately with the sharp tones of what I think of is a harmonium and a real woozy bassline, with a light acoustic guitar and percussion that certainly isn’t of the drum kit kind. So already it’s quite the oddity, but it’s intriguing from the get-go to say the least. The song’s lyrics are something I’ve haven’t quite grasped. As the songs seems to be fixating on this girl who seems kind of strange, sort of out there (“you’re always your way, you are”) but oddly attractive, I’ve come to think of it as a description of this lady being a bit of an airhead, or something of a free spirit. But I’ve also seen a few comments that really go for the dark side of things, judging by the line in the chorus where a ‘gaping hole’ in the head is mentioned and the “gun in your pocket” lyric. Supposedly, this narrator may have had their heart broken, commits suicide and literally shoots themselves, allowing the birds to feast on their brains. Two polar-opposite situations, here. Maybe this is a case that should be left unsolved.

The fact that it doesn’t sound adhere to the the usual rock band conventions is maybe a reason why it never made it onto the Modern Life… album in ’93, instead being released as a B-side on the ‘For Tomorrow’ single. Doesn’t much fit in with the British lifestyles theme that they had begun to delve into on there either. But hey, I’ve come to like it more than a few of the songs that did make the cut. It’s a mysterious dark horse of a track. Out of those three ‘Life trilogy’ albums, Modern Life… is my favourite. Covered a couple songs from it in the past. There are a few more still to come.

#1004: Blur – Out of Time

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The beginning of the new millennium was a weird one for Blur. They were all over the ’90s. The band’s singles and albums were a mainstay in the charts, and that whole Battle of Britpop thing with Oasis happened. But then that decade ended, they were all sort of dishevelled and in their ’30s. The band members weren’t sure which direction to go in. The band released a ‘Best of’ compilation (with great artwork), released a new single, and did some promo appearances. Search up ‘Blur 2000’ on YouTube, and it’s a bit of a trip. Kinda strange seeing the band performing ‘Girls & Boys’ with Gorillaz very much around the corner. By 2001, it was all about ‘Clint Eastwood’ and Gorillaz shot off into the stratosphere.

Couple years later, Blur got back together. Much to Damon Albarn’s hesitance as he stated in the No Distance Left to Run documentary. Graham Coxon left the band because of miscommunication, his own problems with alcohol and some strange handling by their manager. Blur continued as a three-piece. ‘Out of Time’ was the first taste of this new lineup as the first single from the then upcoming album Think Tank in 2003. I was eight years old at the time, I didn’t have a clue who Blur was. I didn’t hear Think Tank until 2013, going through Blur’s discography. I wonder how people must have felt hearing the track upon its initial release. It’s such a lowkey, very minimal track to choose as a first single. It does have a breezy groove, the percussion’s light and very tasteful. The thing that blows me away every time I hear it is Albarn’s vocal. Just so pure, clear and sincere, could bring a tear to your eye.

Released at the beginning of the Iraq War, the track asks the question of where civilisation is going with all the madness that was going on, stating that humanity was forgetting how beautiful life can be and that we may have gone too far into the deep end to recover from the devastation. That specific war’s over, but things aren’t going so well these days for anyone, so I think the song’s message still has as much poignancy now as it did then. You may across comments that harp on Think Tank because of how unlike Blur it sounds. To be fair, those may be justified. Coxon did play a massive part in the band’s sound. But this track came out of it, so I don’t complain too much. Contains a couple great ones that I’ll never be able to post about, and a few more that I will.

#982: Blur – One Born Every Minute

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‘One Born Every Minute’ was officially released as a B-Side on Blur’s ‘Country House’ single in August ’95. There’s not much online about it, so I wouldn’t be able to relay many concrete facts about it. I want to say that its drums and percussion were actually recorded during the making of Modern Life Is Rubbish and are virtually the same as they appear in that recording. I also listened to drummer Dave Rowntree’s podcast a fair time ago, and when this track’s name popped up in conversation, he advised for the people who hadn’t heard it to, “Just don’t. Just don’t bother.” Said jokingly, but with sincerity. To any first listeners here, don’t be frightened. Now, there are some kazoos and a glaring use of those old-timey bike horns. I don’t mind those too much. You readers just might. If you get those out of your psyche, you’ll find there is a fine song underneath to be found. Still, you’ll see why it was just a B-Side and not alongside the stronger material that made it onto The Great Escape.

The track carries on the “We’re oh-so British” theme that the band had cultivated for themselves in ’93, but had taken to another level by 1995. With a musical, Cockney knees-up element to it, the song’s another observational take on Saturday nights out and Sunday roasts, talking to elders who gone through the war and commenting on how, when it comes to sex, everyone seems to be doing it with reckless abandon. At least that’s how I’ve taken it. When it comes to the chorus, I’m not sure whether the lyrics are meant to be sarcastic or earnest. There’s something within them that doesn’t totally match the tone of those berses. When Damon sings, “Oh, well, see how we’ve grown/One gets born every minute” is that somehow saying that we haven’t grown at all and are just carrying out the same routine, only for the next generation to repeat? Or is the chorus merely just a assortment of phrases that seemed to work together for the music. Maybe it’s a bit of both. Maybe I’m thinking too much about it.

Overall, it’s a very catchy tune with plenty of melodies and musical oddities that will catch your ear over repeated listens. Some of those highlights for me are: those climbing “ooh-ooh” harmonies by Graham Coxon in the choruses, his higher “EVERY MINUTE” alongside Damon’s lower vocal when he sings the same phrase, those harmonies on the “gin” before the second chorus that go all over the place but somehow work, and that piano that’s turned right up in the mix during the instrumental break before the final chorus. Some may find it all rather silly. But there’s always a time for that sort of thing.

#979: Blur – On Your Own

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Similarly to, I think, all of the singles Blur released up to their initial split in 2003, ‘On Your Own’ was a track I came across when its music video played on the TV. Large chance it was probably on MTV2. That channel had a knack for just randomly showing Blur music videos out of the blue for no particular reason. Not that it’s anything to complain about. I’ve known ‘On Your Own’ for so long now that I couldn’t even begin to tell you what I felt when I first heard/saw it. Would have been about 10 years old or around that age. But I can at least describe what about it has endeared it to me for all this time.

As the third single released from the band’s self-titled album in 1997, ‘On Your Own’ was unlike the crunching band-in-a-room performances of its two predecessors. This track included strange phasing synthesizers and a drum machine, comically performed by drummer Dave Rowntree in what is essentially a hole in the ground in the music video. On top of that steady rhythm comes Graham Coxon on the guitar, pulling off these jagged guitar lines and noises using his pedals which sound like those you hear when your video game freezes, but even more absurdly brutal in its tone. It’s like he’s trying to completely throw the song in the wrong direction, but ends up adding a whole other dimension to it. Then eventually comes Damon Albarn over the top, spouting these surreal lyrics that are provide some interesting imagery. The first verse may or may not be about ordering drugs while the second describes a bad trip/overwhelming reaction someone has to these drugs while on a night out. The chorus doesn’t make much sense at all, but the band sound like they’re having a great time when they’re belting it out. With all this though, the song still manages to pull off this existential bit, reminding us that in the end (death), we’ll all be alone – presumably in our coffins.

The quote most attributed to this track is Albarn’s who considered the track to be “one of the first ever Gorillaz tunes.” Now, I always took that quote to mean that it was an archetype for what would follow on the first Gorillaz album, rather than it being an actual track that he had with Gorillaz in mind but performing it with Blur instead. But I think a lot of people actually think that it was meant to be for Gorillaz just because of that quote. I don’t really see it myself. Albarn sounds too lucid on this track. The lyrics on here seem like they have no meaning to them, but they really do. Well, except for maybe part of the chorus. A lot of lyrics on that first Gorillaz album don’t make much sense at all. You really have to read those ones to try and get something. You want a proto-Gorillaz song? Check out ‘I’m Just a Killer for Your Love’.