Tag Archives: blur

#926: Blur – No Distance Left to Run

Damon Albarn and former Elastica frontwoman Justine Frischmann were sometimes labelled the ‘King and Queen of Britpop’ during that time in the ’90s when that whole movement was happening. They were a couple through and through until they broke up in 1998, leaving Albarn traumatised and incredibly bummed out by the ordeal. The fallout of that, plus a dependence on heroin and straining relationships within Blur resulted in 13, the group’s most experimental album, possibly their most sonically adventurous too. It truly goes off the deep end about four songs in and onward. So when ‘No Distance Left to Run’ comes in as the record’s penultimate track, it enforces a sound of band that really has nothing left to give.

The song has to go down as one of the saddest in Blur’s catalogue. It’s about the dreadful realisation that a relationship’s over, one that a lot of years went into with a lot of heart, and tearfully wishing the other person all the best with someone else while you’re all alone and left wanting to die. I may have exaggerated a little bit on that last point. But it’s clear that Albarn wasn’t in the greatest of places while recording this. His trembling vocal take alongside Graham Coxon’s weeping guitar are the highlights throughout. In the band’s 2010 documentary, named after this track as a matter of fact, Coxon mentions that Albarn never told the bandmates what was going on, but it was quite obvious that things weren’t good. So he tried to make a riff and some chord progressions that would match whatever words Albarn wrote down. Fair to say he does them justice. I do particularly like the spacey instrumental in the middle, with those twinkling keys that pan from left to right alongside those smooth ‘ooh’ vocals. I thought it was a choir doing them, but I upon further research it seems they are done by Albarn and Coxon, or Albarn double-tracked. Whatever way, it’s good listening.

I wasn’t properly living around the time of this album’s release or thereafter. Would have been very young at the time. But looking back as a Blur fan and reading up on stuff, ‘No Distance Left to Run’ could very much have been the band’s last track on an album. One on which there’s singing anyway. Going into the new century, it seemed that the group wasn’t sure where to go, releasing a ‘Best Of’ compilation. Then Damon Albarn put more focus on Gorillaz, and forged a whole other path of success. But thankfully that wasn’t the case, and two more Blur albums were made. Let’s hope there’s another soon.

#869: Blur – Movin’ On

Think I read that Blur’s ‘Movin’ On’ was meant to be the final track on the band’s self-titled album from 1997. But then that changed when one day they made ‘Essex Dogs’ and decided that that track would take its place. ‘Movin’ On’ does have that “see you later, we’re out of here” sort of feel about it though. I just get that sense from its musicality, it’s hard to explain. What I do know is that it’s one of my favourites on this album, though I’m sure many wouldn’t bat an eyelid at it because there’s also ‘Beetlebum’, ‘Death of a Party’ and, you know, ‘Song 2’, among many other tracks that people may arguably find more substantial.

What got me hooked immediately to this one was its opening guitar riff, played by Graham Coxon, that goes back and forth with that fuzzy keyboard, presumably played by Damon Albarn. Those two are basically the melodic core of almost the entire track, then when the rhythm section of Alex James and Dave Rowntree join in, well, then it’s just plain sailing from there. The track is meant to be the band’s sort of declaration that they were done with the whole Britpop movement that they seemed to be a major force behind, and were going to continue to make simple indie rock, real band music. Of course, you wouldn’t assume this from the lyrics in the verses where Albarn is really just singing nonsense. Not like stupid things, but I feel they are words that are generally meant to fir the music rather than have a deep meaning behind them. Again, quite similar to what he would be doing with Gorillaz a few years later. Though there’s not much meaning, they’re delivered with a lot of feeling, and that’s all I ask for when it comes to this music stuff.

Some musical highlights in this to look out for… I mean I already mentioned the back and forth between the guitar and keyboard that happens throughout. I’d like to shout-out Dave Rowntree’s drum pattern during the choruses. I’m not a drummer, but there’s something emphatic about the way he switches between the hi-hats, tom-toms and crash cymbals alongside those rising ‘aah-aah’ backing vocals from Graham Coxon. Those sections are very uplifting. And then there are those moments where the band let loose. The keyboards freak out for the entire instrumental bridge, and the song’s end is just the four guys making as much noise as possible. I think it all just reflects the freedom the band must have had, particularly Coxon, now that they were changing their style up a bit. I give this track two thumbs up.

#846: Blur – Miss America

Like a lot of other songs in this very long series thing, it took a while for me to get into this track. When I first listened through Modern Life Is Rubbish, years ago now, I think I was 18, ‘Miss America’ stood out as the really slow and much longer track in an album where the pace was quite rapid and frantic. I thought it was boring. But a few years later, you can guess where this is going, I listened to the album yet again, and it all made sense. Coming after the heavy, two minute, shoegaze-ish ending of ‘Oily Water’, ‘Miss America’ brings a needed calmness to the proceedings.

A horrible touring experience in the US where the band were broke and the members basically starting hating each other spurred the whole music-for-the-British-people thing that Damon Albarn was all for during the 90s, and I think that ‘Miss America’ is pretty much about missing the UK while he was having the worst time across the pond. He sings about how he doesn’t understand ‘Miss America’ and loves only ‘you’, ‘you’ in this case being the United Kingdom. There are some other lyrics about jellybeans and ‘Jemima ho hos’ that don’t make much sense, but I think those are just in there to fit the music. Could also be a part of the huuuge Syd Barrett influence on this track too.

What I think really drew me in though, is the whole dreamlike atmosphere of the song. These reverb-drenched acoustic guitars take up the frame with these twinkling wind chimes (I think) throughout. There’s a proper haze about it. I’ve been in bed while listening to this and never wanted to get up, I feel so comfortable when this comes on. The track’s very loose, and I think it’s a live take too. There’s a short moment at the beginning where a drunk Graham Coxon yells out ‘Michael’, and Alex James and Albarn share a laugh about it before beginning the track. The only thing that I would point out about it is that Albarn’s vocal is very upfront in the mix… Kinda wish the instruments were louder so the vocals were more subtle. But, hey, the producers know what they’re doing.

#825: Blur – Mellow Song

13 is one of my favourite albums of all time. Definitely one of my Desert Island Discs if that programme asked you to list what records you would take if you were in that situation. Even I feel exhausted after listening through the 66 minutes the thing lasts for. Could you imagine how the band members felt making this? Well, it’s documented that individually they weren’t having the greatest of times leading up to and during the making of the album. Damon Albarn had broken up with his long-term girlfriend Justine Frischmann of Elastica and was somewhat hooked on heroin, Graham Coxon was drinking and angry at the world, people were fighting, not turning up to sessions. Sounds tense. But they still came out with this masterpiece. That’s right, I said it.

‘Mellow Song’ is what it says it is. It’s a four minute break from the chaos and disorienting noise that surrounds it, even though it kicks up a bit during its instrumental outro. The first half of it has Damon Albarn singing in his dulcet tones. I think it’s capturing him in the aftermath of his break-up. All he does is spend time in bed, hungover, taking drugs, or making music. And this is him singing about it in a sort of surreal and poetic way. He plays these arpeggiated notes on the acoustic guitar that move up and down the fretboard accompanied by these twinkling/ghostly keyboards and when he sings the last “We’ll see”, the song transforms into this trippy, bass-heavy instrumental jam. Like I said, it is a nice… wouldn’t say relaxing, but it’s something you can really get lost in with the right state of mind.

The instrumental jam has a lot of musical goodness too. Coxon plays this four note pattern that repeats and repeats while Albarn plays a melodica solo. A guitar overdub where Coxon plays these random notes and bends takes over as a harpsichord suddenly appears in the right hand side. There are clips of Albarn laughing or crying (I’m not sure which) buried in there too. It all goes on and on until it all sort of fizzles out and comes to a stop with a lo-fi recording of Albarn laughing. It sounds better in the context of the whole album because the next starts suddenly right after that. 13‘s great. If only I could have written about ‘Battle’.

#793: Blur – Magpie

Originally, ‘Magpie’ by Blur was released as a B-side on their ‘Girls & Boys’ single in 1994. Years and years later in 2012, the band released their whole discography and a few other discs of bonus stuff in a boxset commemorating the 21st anniversary of their first album, Leisure. Each of their albums received a second disc of B-side material. Parklife, the album that ‘Girls & Boys’ can be found on, included ‘Magpie’ in this new form. Just like its A-side counterpart is the main album opener, ‘Magpie’ is the introductory track to the B-side disc.

The song goes back to the days of late 1992, when the band were in the midst of recording their second album Modern Life Is Rubbish. It was worked on again during the Parklife sessions, but Damon Albarn couldn’t get some great lyrics down. In the end, he sang the words of a poem by William Blake called ‘The Poison Tree’. The chorus is made of only one original line, in which the title is sung. If you hear this track and really like, you may think, “Well, why was this left of Parklife?” I don’t have an certain answer that would please you. I would say that it would have probably sounded a bit out of place. If the song had been completed in time for Modern Life though, I think it would have been a shoo-in for the final tracklist.

There was a point in 2013/14 where I was constantly listening to this track. Dave Rowntree’s Bonham-esque drumming performance always got me hyped up. The cymbals and snare sound much louder than everything else in the mix. Plus, it’s almost a monoaural track where the instruments and vocals are all bunched up in the middle. It makes the track sound just a lot busier and messy which I’m into. The rhythm stops and starts in the verses, Alex James plays a very groovy bassline in those. Graham Coxon introduces it all with a soaring guitar riff that plays throughout. And with a minute to go, there’s this huge freakout where Rowntree just goes mad on the drums and Coxon closes things out with a wandering chord progression. It’s a definite ride. It, along with many others, showed me that Blur weren’t too bad on the B-sides either.