Blur: The Ballad of Darren review – mature melancholia spiked with adventure

(Parlophone)
Evaluating it to a surprise child, late-life Blur’s ninth album finds them on eloquent, emotional type, casting a wistful eye over previous glories whereas pushing ahead musically

9 albums in, Blur do not owe anyone any bangers. They're a four-piece very a lot within the post-urgent stage of their profession, reaping the rewards of their long musical life at a pair of ecstatically received Wembley Arena mega-gigs a number of weeks ago. These are men who've historical past of falling out (Damon Albarn and guitarist Graham Coxon, for two), falling again in together, spending time as a band because they need to, as a pleasurable sideshow to their foremost gigs. Gorillaz, Albarn’s other spectacularly successful car, stay lively. In his spare time he’s writing another opera. Coxon, a longtime solo artist, has the Waeve, a wealthy collaboration together with his songwriter associate, Rose Elinor Dougall. Drummer Dave Rowntree just lately released a respectable debut solo record. Alex James, bass, makes cheese and runs a pageant on his farm.

And yet, eight years on from their satisfying, if much less pressing, final reunion album, The Magic Whip, Blur have produced a report that packs no little pleasure. This swiftly wrought document, which James has in comparison with a surprise baby (“we didn’t know we were pregnant, and we gave delivery in a grocery store automotive park”) finds late-life Blur on eloquent, emotional type. It’s an album that always seems to be back, whereas summoning textures and nuances that solely add to their toolkit.