Tag Archives: blur

#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.

#764: Blur – Look Inside America

Damon Albarn spent a good chunk of the 90s making music specially tailored to the British public. After having a not-so-great tour in the United States and seeing that the music from that country, especially grunge, dominated the UK charts he had a vision to remind people how great, and sometimes bad, it was to be from England with the ultimate aim of being part of the biggest band in their homeland. That vision came true to some degree, but the band found they had taken things too far with their 1995 album The Great Escape. They had also fallen hugely out of favour with the general British audience who had grown to prefer Oasis instead.

Their self-titled album that followed in 1997 was remarkably different, inspired by indie rock bands like Pavement and Sebadoh that guitarist Graham Coxon had been listening to. The music Blur was making in these sessions was a lot more aggresive and Albarn’s lyrics were more earnest and sincere. Noting the gratifying effect that this new American influence was having on the band, Albarn wrote ‘Look Inside America’ which is essentially an apology to the country and a song about learning not to care so much about things. In the track, Albarn sings about the better experiences he has while being in America. A good show was had the previous night, the band got an ad on the rock station KROQ, and he got a happier ending to Woody Allen’s Annie Hall by rewinding the videotape. He seems to have found pleasures in the smallest details and his lyrics, mixed with the uplifting music, result in what is probably the most optimistic track on the whole album.

Ironically, the song sounds the most similar to the material they were making on their Britpop trilogy. Only this time, the strings during the verses play more as a backdrop to Albarn’s vocal and Coxon’s guitar. The groove during the guitar solos nearing the end remind me to ‘Mr Robinson’s Quango’. I think it’s all in done in a tongue-in-cheek way though. Just a personal highlight for me is Alex James’ bass throughout the track, that’s very melodic in itself.

#677: Blur – Jubilee

I guess I took a bit of an unplanned break. It was the holidays, and plus I had a lot of stuff going in my life that I had to sort out. But that’s all done, for now anyway, and it’s 2020. That is a big number. Happy new year. Hope all goes well for you.

The first post of the new decade goes to Blur’s song ‘Jubilee’, a song from their iconic Parklife album from 1994. Coming towards the end of that particular record, the track is essentially another of Damon Albarn’s third-person narratives – this time based on a boy ‘Jubilee’ who does nothing all day but watch television, play video games, and generally make no effort to get out of the house. This is something I can relate with as I’m sure many others can as well.

I’ll say this is really the last proper hectic track on the album. Following it comes ‘This Is a Low’, the emotional climax to the entire thing. Before that ‘Jubilee’ is a bit of a wild one. Snotty backing vocals appear at points, squirty synthesizers and some trumpets are thrown in there too. It’s a charging ball of energy. Because of its place in the tracklist, I feel like only those are really into Blur will know this song at all. They performed quite a lot back in the day though, so I assume the band themselves were quite fond of it.

#647: Blur – It Could Be You

I may have said this before but just to reinforce it again, I prefer The Great Escape to Parklife. I realise that the latter is recognised as Blur’s first classic album, it was immense for British culture during the time it was released. The former is mostly seen as Parklife‘s weaker follow-up nowadays. It also doesn’t help that none of the bandmembers don’t look on The Great Escape very fondly either. When it comes down to it, I enjoy a lot more songs from that album than I do its predecessor.

‘It Could Be You’ is a track from The Great Escape, released in 1995, and was also released as single – only in Japan – the following year. It is predominantly inspired by The National Lottery, which had recently become a thing around the time the album came out, with its title taken from the initial slogan that was used to promote the whole ordeal. Damon Albarn sings about what he could do if he were to win it, or at least sings from the perspective of someone who wishes to, alongside various phrases and observations on British society that he was prone to during those times.

Like a lot of songs on Parklife, the track is rich in melodies and general catchiness, pepped up with enthusiastic ‘doo-doo/ooh-ooh’ vocals here and there and quite the keen vocal take from Albarn. Actually, a lot of the vocals here seem almost camp in a way…. like it could be a musical number or something. Though it does help that they’re backed up by a relatively strong performance from Graham Coxon’s guitars and the rhythm section of Alex James and Dave Rowntree. Check out the fuzz bass that comes in for a brief moment during the chorus. It took me a while to realise that was even there.

#596: Blur – I’m Just a Killer for Your Love

‘I’m Just a Killer for Your Love’ is the tenth track on Blur’s self-titled album, released in 1997. For anyone who owns that album and holds it in particular high regard, it’s not hard to notice the slight quality difference in terms of production between this track and all the other 13 songs it’s placed alongside. It has an almost monoaural mix compared to the somewhat expansive sounds in ‘Beetlebum‘ or ‘Death of a Party‘, it sounds like the recording was accidentally started after Dave Rowntree starts drumming, there’s a Beatles ‘Yer Blues‘ feel to it in that it sounds like the band are just in this one room close together busting this thing out.

Well, there’s a reason for this. It’s the only song on there not to be produced by Stephen Street. Apparently, it was the very last track that the band worked on for the album and something the four members knocked out whilst working in Damon Albarn’s then new ‘Studio 13’. The track is very loose, rough around the edges, very slack in its execution but oddly seductive too.

This song predates Gorillaz’s first album by a few years but there are a number of things about it that remind me of what would appear on that project’s 2001 debut. The lyrics are a number of surreal images that when put together appear to make a coherent story, Albarn’s played up (or toned down, however you see it) vocal delivery is something he would go on to develop and play with more with the project, and just in general it’s almost experimental in its weird way.

Pay attention to Alex James really forcing that wah-wah effect on his bass, that’s some good stuff.