In an interview with The Guardian in February, Graham Coxon claimed that within pop music, there “needs to be room for beautiful mistakes”, effectively giving a clarion call for creativity in an industry crammed with commercialism.
The Blur guitarist was speaking ahead of his band’s first album in 12 years, and the overall sound of ‘The Magic Whip’ is testament to his refreshing outlook. In their time apart, Coxon released eight varying solo albums, while front man Damon Albarn bred another cult favourite in Gorillaz, as well as his own solo album and forays into production and opera. A Blur reunion, it turns out, could have produced almost anything.
What a relief, then, that The Magic Whip is so much more than a beautiful mistake. Five seconds into the opening track ‘Lonesome Street’, a sleepy Coxon trademark lick lets you know you’re in safe hands, before relaxing into a recognisable swagger.
When asked about the music of The Magic Whip, Coxon described it as “familiar, but a bit different”. Given the long layoff, and the fact that much of the album was recorded in Hong Kong, this is unsurprising. The soundworld produced in Lonesome Street epitomises Coxon’s sentiment; constant small interjections from synths and guitars threaten to seize control, but Albarn’s languid vocals act as a reminder of home.
With an impressive back-catalogue of material under his belt, Albarn is faced with the tough job of satisfying fans of all different styles. Inevitably The Magic Whip nods toward some of his side projects, but you never lose the sense that this is anything other than a Blur album.
The second track ‘New World Towers’ instantly throws back to the mellow electronic environment of Albarn’s solo album ‘Everyday Robots’. Rather than disrupting the atmosphere, the addition of guitars and live drums contribute a depth of variety to the sound – a classically simple melody from Albarn completes the line-up in this relaxing gem. The soft melancholia returns later with ‘My Terracotta Heart’, punctuated beautifully by Coxon’s subtle guitar work, which seems to be telepathically aware of when to grab your attention.
Meanwhile, the glitchy background effects underpinning the first single ‘Go Out’ are the clearest signs of a post-Gorillaz drive from Albarn. In stark contrast to the previous track, Go Out is wild in its delivery. Despite another beautifully simple vocal line, the crunches and fuzzes that accompany it create a new intimidation not present before.
The anarchic electronics continue and develop in ‘Ice Cream Man’ and the short, sharp and a little bit mad ‘I Broadcast’, fitting with a comment made by Coxon, saying that the sound of the album was a bit “sci-fi”. Meanwhile, ‘Pyongyang’ completes a trio of spacious, despondent numbers on The Magic Whip. With such a provocative name, it was always going to gain attention. Luckily for Albarn and co., it lives up to the pressure, boldly becoming one of the most powerful and beautiful tracks on the record. Pitching soaring harmonies against distorted guitar lines, the sound generated is one to admire on repeat.
The foundation of Blur’s music has often been a combination of clever composition and boyish playfulness. Coxon himself admitted, “We can’t take ourselves seriously and we haven’t been afraid to make music that feels a bit foolish at times.” The commanding Soviet stride of ‘There Are Too Many Of Us’ is a welcome change of pace in the album, but also feels like a caricature of strict Eastern mentality, with Albarn seemingly singing through a megaphone and the military percussion almost appearing comical.
On a couple of occasions during The Magic Whip, it’s hard not to break into an amused smile. Take ‘Ghost Ship’ for example – the lazy tempo and cheesy vocal harmonies make up 5 minutes of first class elevator music. However, there are so many clever riffs, catchy melodies and more endearing qualities that you really begin to enjoy it. Similarly, ‘Ong Ong’ pushes the boundaries of simplicity to their very limits. With the tagline “I wanna be with you” and consisting of only 3 chords, after all that comes before, Ong Ong is faintly ridiculous. If it had been released 20 years ago, it could easily have been perceived as a side swipe at former rivals Oasis; with a sense of inevitability, however, its own anthemic qualities begin to reveal themselves.
It’s always been difficult to single out exactly what makes Blur’s sound. That, in a way, is why they’re still at the top of their game. In stark contrast, former sparring partners Oasis are likely to forever be a thing of the past, with the less said about their follow-up projects, the better. With yet more world and music experience, Blur have brought new sounds to their arsenal, but have not lost sight of who they are, and what they can do together.