The Pop Corporation

Blur surprised everyone with the announcement of new LP ‘The Ballad of Darren’ and there’s a key word in there to get excited about – ballad. Fact is, if you’re a die-in-the-wool Blur fan, you’ll know that they’re a generational talent when it comes to melancholy and the softer side of rock.

Of course, tracks like ‘Song 2’ and ‘Parklife’ are somewhat era defining, but if you really like Blur, you will have spent years feeling dizzy at the likes of ‘This Is A Low’, ‘Badhead’, ‘To The End’, ‘For Tomorrow’, ‘Best Days’, ‘Under The Westway’ and the rest. Fact is, no-one wrote such bruised and beautiful songs about Ol’ Blighty since Ray Davies. The Kinks connection has been long and well-worn with Damon & Co, but it’s the highest praise and shouldn’t be shied from.

Blur were always fun, loud and schizophrenic, but underneath the noise and cynicism was a woozy romanticism about the shores of England, London life, grey skies and supermarkets. Blur excel at all things, but what really makes them so special is the more reflective moments, which is exactly where we find the Blur of 2023.

There’s more uptempo tracks of course, notably with ‘St Charles Square’, which kicks off with a magic Albarnism “I fucked up – I’m not the first to do it“. Other teaser, ‘The Narcissist’ sounded nice enough when it came out before the full album, but as part of the suite of songs, it’s a magic thing, with the melancholy sounding richer with the motorik rhythm section.

However, where the LP really excels is set in stone from the opening moments of ‘The Ballad’, which is as fantastic and swooning as any soft Blur great. When you can hear Blur’s influence of French chanson, ’60s melodrama and even McCartney-esque sensitivity, it’s unmatched, as you melt into yourself while Alban coos “oh, can’t you see, when the ballad comes for you – it comes like me? Well, I know I can’t change the times, I know I’m already breaking when I look into your eyes”.

In ‘Far Away Island’, one of the standout songs, you die a little as you’re crooned with “it’s on my mind as the light fades. What are you doing tonight? Are you dancing? Are there new tunes to play? As I sail further away from you. Far away island – I miss you.” While in the gorgeous ‘Russian Strings’, we’re serenaded with that most Blur of snapshots: “The tenement blocks come crashing down – with headphones on you won’t hear that much.”

And what’s so satisfying about the album is, in part, the renewed relationship between Albarn and Graham Coxon. For some reason, it really matters that these two like each other, because we know they love each other (perhaps a little too much). When Damon and Graham click, there’s a magic isn’t replicated anywhere else. And together, in interviews at least, their bond looks more surefooted and more mature than perhaps it ever has. It’s that maturity that really shines through on the LP – they don’t need to make pop songs or anthems as such – this is a group of men who have been through the mill, and now, they’re back to doing what they do best.

And it’s an emotional listen for these reasons, but also, the content. There’s still that wry-eye that made Blur so seductive in the ’90s, but now, it’s grown up and the heaviness is melded with a lightness of touch that suits people of their age. It would be tempting, no doubt, to try and prove something to everyone – that they still pogo with the best of them – but that’s not what this is about. It’s just great music to get lost in and watery-eyed about.

It came about so speedily too, that the LP feels as natural as slipping into a bath. So speedy in fact that Alex James – always great for a quote – said “we didn’t know we were pregnant and we gave birth in a supermarket car park.”

Fact is, in Blur’s arsenal, they can call upon things that no other band are able too, and the best news is that they reveal themselves throughout this LP. It would have been so easy for any longtime listen to try and convince themselves of greatness because of nostalgia reasons or just willing Damon, Graham, Alex and Dave to do well, but it’s not necessary. This is the best Blur LP since ’13’, and that’s no joke. Given time, we may even think it’s better, but let’s not excitement and recency bias cloud our judgement.

That we find Blur in reflective mode is not lost on the band. Rowntree said: “the sneering songs we wrote about old people when we were in our 20s are now aimed at us… I remember thinking at the time, these people don’t know anything. They don’t even know they’re alive!” What cynical young Blur may have once deemed fascinatingly domesticated is now gentle experience and matured anxiety. Older and a little wiser sure, but the world is still as weird and wide as it ever was.

More ‘Modern Life Is Rubbish’ than The Pavement Years, Blur have once again, found themselves painting pictures of a troubled and turbulent world and the mess of standing in the middle of it all, and finding joy as well as heartbreak.

There’s still all of Coxon’s hallmark inventiveness on his guitar, there’s still Albarn flooding the channel with emotion and an aching heart at the centre of it all, and fucking hell, it’s great to have them back. Here’s hoping they don’t leave the next LP quite as long, but honestly, if ‘The Ballad of Darren’ is anything to go by, they can do whatever they want.