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

(Parlophone)
Comparing it to a shock baby, late-life Blur’s ninth album finds them on eloquent, emotional type, casting a wistful eye over previous glories while pushing ahead musically

9 albums in, Blur do not owe anybody any bangers. They are a four-piece very much within the post-urgent stage of their profession, reaping the rewards of their lengthy musical life at a pair of ecstatically received Wembley Arena mega-gigs a couple of weeks in the past. These are males who have historical past of falling out (Damon Albarn and guitarist Graham Coxon, for 2), falling back in collectively, spending time as a band as a result of 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 rich collaboration together with his songwriter associate, Rose Elinor Dougall. Drummer Dave Rowntree just lately launched 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 less urgent, final reunion album, The Magic Whip, Blur have produced a document that packs no little excitement. This swiftly wrought report, which James has compared to a shock child (“we didn’t know we were pregnant, and we gave start in a supermarket automotive park”) finds late-life Blur on eloquent, emotional type. It’s an album that always appears again, whereas summoning textures and nuances that only add to their toolkit.