Tag Archives: gorillaz

#1095: Gorillaz – Re-Hash

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Well, I don’t have so much of a personal connection with Gorillaz’s first album as I do with, say, Plastic Beach. That debut album was released back in 2001, when I would have been five, but I do remember seeing the videos for ‘Clint Eastwood’ and ’19-2000′ at the time and being confused by the former and sort of more aware of what was going on with the latter. I didn’t come round to hearing Gorillaz in full until 2010 or so. Plastic Beach was, then, the new album, and everyone knew about Demon Days – think I got that for my birthday that same year – so it only made sense to complete the trilogy by downloading it off the random mp3 sites that you could go to in those days and hearing where it all started.

‘Re-Hash’ is the opener. Where it all started. Commercially, at least, I think I read somewhere that the very first song made under the Gorillaz name was ‘Ghost Train’. Though you all understand where I’m coming from. I feel like I read somewhere that the song is meant to be a veiled criticism of the simplicity and repetitiveness of the general music scene that was going on around 2001, when people like Britney Spears and N*Sync and other manufactured pop groups were existing. This was something that irked Damon Albarn, and was one of the main reasons that he and Jamie Hewlett created Gorillaz in the first place, and so it only made sense that he mimicked the thing that was so “hot” at the time. Hence why ‘Re-Hash”s dub bassline and drum pattern barely changes throughout the song, or why the lyrics in the second are the same as the first. And the chorus is made up of only one line, “It’s the money or stop”, another phrase that is repeated to high heaven. But in that is where the meaning lies. It’s all for the money.

It’s songs like this that make me miss the Gorillaz of old times. I’m sure I’ve said this before in the previous Gorillaz album-related post many moons ago, but this clean pop direction that Albarn’s taken the project to in recent times is one that I couldn’t care less about. You could expect something different from each upcoming Gorillaz album 15-20 years ago, which somehow immediately worked, but since coming back in 2017, things haven’t clicked with me as immediately as they once did. The trip-hop, dubby era of Gorillaz is one that I have a lot of heart for, even if people will die by the sword and say Demon Days is the certified classic. I mean it’s all right, I do like it myself. But I really like this.

#1047: Gorillaz ft. Mick Jones & Paul Simonon – Plastic Beach

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Well, it was only a few days ago that I was writing about another song from Plastic Beach, so I won’t go ahead and give the whole spiel on thoughts and feelings on it. Might as well just redirect you to that very post though, only if you were grossly interested in this guy’s first encounter with the album. I want to say that the title track was one of my favourites from the very beginning. I clearly remember going on YouTube, finding ‘Plastic Beach’ – the song – online and pleading with people to see if they could hear the falsetto vocal that Damon Albarn carries on into the choruses after singing ‘It doesn’t know’. No one could come up with the answer I wanted, so whatever he is singing is still a mystery to me to this day. In fact, I think there are a lot of lyrics in here that lyrics sites don’t have down correctly, no matter how official or reliable they claim to be.

Without hearing any of the music and just looking at the tracklist, seeing the features, it was always going to be interesting to see how former Clash members Mick Jones and Paul Simonon would be involved on this specific track. They’d both taken lead vocals in the past on Clash songs. Very notable, famous ones too. But once that introduction starts, you can tell it’s Jones on that guitar and Simonon on the bass straight away. That whole introduction, so atmospheric and scene-building by the way, sounds like an instrumental Clash outtake, but with some synthesizers over the top. Very cool to see the two performing their take in the studio in the Plastic Beach documentary too. The introduction lasts for 40 seconds or so, giving way to the rest of the song is predominantly led by keyboards, synthesizers and the like, with an immediate groove and head-bopping rhythm, over which Albarn sings about about living on the plastic island depicted on the album’s ominous front cover. A picture that isn’t computer-generated, by the way. That’s an actual large-scale model that a crew took pictures of. Pretty cool to know.

If it wasn’t for that Jones/Simonon introduction, ‘Plastic Beach’ would follow a very simple structure I’ve come to realise. Without it is your standard track of a verse/chorus/verse/chorus/bridge/chorus/end, which you can find just about anywhere. Have a feeling Albarn wanted to spice things up a bit, and so recruited some help to make things a bit more interesting. But even then, the song hits the spot in so many ways. Albarn harmonises with himself, singing in quite the relaxed tone for the verses and too in the choruses, also changing the pitch of his vocals to achieve a harmonising effect. The high-pitched ‘Plastico, plastico’ vocals that come in before the final chorus I’ve come to not like as much. They feel a bit filler-y, just to add something in before things are rounded off. But they’re not enough to completely steer me away from the song. A shame that the lyrics aren’t completely valid wherever you look though. I actually uploaded these ones back around its release, taken from the iTunes lyrics that were on the Plastic Beach game on the band’s official website that was going on for a while. This is the closest I think you could get.

#1042: Gorillaz – Pirate Jet

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Man, 2010. What a time to be alive, eh? Although I was alive in 2000, 2010 was the first proper year where I was aware that a change in the decades was happening. I thought it was something of a huge occasion. We were all quite deep into the 21st century. After all the shit that went down in the 2000s, 14-year-old me at least was feeling optimistic about the world for the times that were to come. Looking back on it in 2023, fair to say the decade had its highs and lows. One of them being the return of Gorillaz in 2010, with the release of Plastic Beach, five years on from Demon Days. Just when they needed them most, they returned.

That album’s been out for 13 years this month. While that does feel like ages ago, I do have the very clear memory of downloading it when it leaked online a few days before official release and listening to the whole thing in full. There were a lot of music downloading websites online in those days that wouldn’t survive a week in these times. If only I were on the home computer, I’d be able to tell you the exact date I did. Monitor’s busted though. Power on button just won’t click when you press it. One thing’s for sure was that the album was a hit with me from that day. Each song just seemed to be one banger after the next. An emotional rollercoaster with a ton of variety in each track. No track on there was bad. Though now there may be some established tracks that have been labelled as the ‘not so good’ ones – looking at ‘Glitter Freeze’ and unfortunately ‘Sweepstakes’ (which I also got tired of after a while, but was probably one of my favorites on there for a looong time – you can’t deny they’re at the very least interesting. Demon Days is widely regarded to be the classic. It will always be Plastic Beach for me.

And so, after this almost hour-long experience filled to the brim with guest vocalists and instrumental twists and turns, the one and only Damon Albarn (or 2D if you really want to get into it) takes the lead to close it all out with ‘Pirate Jet’, a track that I could only describe as this groovy pub-like singalong. The lyrics consist of only one verse that’s sung twice, kind of making a sarcastic joking point on how everything’s great while humanity is wasting water and using all these excessive amounts of plastic for no good reason. The album had a bit of an environmental theme going on throughout, don’t know if you knew. A vocoder-effected vocal sings the title phrase from the very start of the song too, setting the swinging rhythm that sets the bed for frizzy synthesizer chords, soulful backing ‘ooh’ harmonies and these little tinkling bells that are actually the last instruments you hear on the record as all of the others slowly fade out. Definitely has an ‘ending credits song’ feel to it. I couldn’t picture a greater note for the album to go out on.

#804: Gorillaz – Man Research (Clapper)

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Gotta say I miss the times when Gorillaz made music like this. Damon Albarn’s taken his virtual band into quite poppy territory, but there’ll always be those featured guests that still give the material a bit of its edge. I prefer the Gorillaz tunes where Albarn never sounded the same on each track. Where he would barely enunicate any of the words he would say against a strange experimental soundscape, or use some production effect to make his voice sound different. A prime example of the former occurs in today’s track, ‘Man Research (Clapper)’ from the band’s debut album from 2001. Now you’ll either just get your standard Albarn vocal with that effect that makes it sound like he’s talking from a loudspeaker. But anyway, let’s talk more about the song.

What is ‘Man Research (Clapper)’ about? I don’t think anyone truly knows. You can search up the lyrics online. I’ve seen them and, though they somewhat resemble what Albarn could be saying in this song, I don’t think they’re correct. The song samples ‘In the Hall of the Mountain Queen’ by Raymond Scott, which is on his album Manhattan Research Inc. That is where the Gorillaz song takes its name from. That still doesn’t get us any closer to the song’s message. I could only say that I think ‘Man Research’ is connected to ‘Clint Eastwood’ because both songs include the lyric ‘I got sunshine’. It also comes straight after ‘Eastwood’ on the album. And I’ve always thought that song was about drugs. So, I guess that’s what it boils down to, everybody. ‘Man Research’ is about drugs. See you and good night.

I’m just kidding. I’ve never thought about the song’s meaning that much. I need something to discuss on here. Anything with a strong melody’s alright with me. Although Damon Albarn sounds a bit far gone on this one – if that was his intention, he succeeded – the way he ‘sings’ alongside that incessant kick drum always sounded good to me. That ‘yea yea yea’ chorus is very memorable, whether you like it or not. For the last minute and twenty seconds, Albarn become slightly unhinged with every ‘yea yea yea’ repetition to the point where it sounds like he’s either in pain while delivering his vocal or even crying. It’s a bit of a freakout. And it’s those types of strange moments from Gorillaz that I miss. They’re not so strange anymore.

My iPod #370: Gorillaz – Fire Coming Out of the Monkey’s Head

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Looking through my iPod before I started this I found that, to my embarrassment, I have accidentally missed out a song. Silly me. I thought I had the order sussed out too. I’ll get to it one day. For now, the series must continue.

“Fire Coming Out of the Monkey’s Head” begins the “End of the World” track trilogy at the end of the “Demon Days” album with “Don’t Get Lost in Heaven” and the title track coming after. Listen to those three songs in succession. I also don’t think they have an official name together, “End of the World” just seems like the most appropriate thing to call it.

The track is essentially a story, narrated by the late and great Dennis Hopper, about the ‘Happyfolk’ who live under the great mountain called Monkey. Monkey eventually explodes, consuming the Earth in a great wave of fire after the ‘Strangefolk’ dig deep into its centre, stealing the jewels that lie within it. A menacing, repetitive bassline plays with deep humming backing vocals and clicking guitar licks setting the tracks mysterious and creepy tone during the verses. Damon Albarn (2D) comes in with a few verses too, accompanied by a sole acoustic guitar.

I read an interesting comment on there that suggested that this track was the main track of the entire album. Every track preceding has essentially been parts of the narrative that is told in this one song where everything comes together. Kinda makes sense. The happyfolk being the “Last Living Souls” and everything, and “Feel Good Inc.” being that point where the happy people seem to realise that something is going amiss but try and block it out to all they’re might. It’s very long to describe. But I can see it. Can’t remember where I saw that comment though, must have been years ago. Oh well.