Gorillaz: Cracker Island review – bittersweet tunes for anxious times

(Parlophone)
A considerate eighth album blends Damon Albarn’s state-of-the-world considerations with the skills of collaborators from Stevie Nicks to Thundercat

Despite the fact that their eighth LP found this cartoon band decamping to California to work with producer Greg Kurstin, it’s arduous to not speculate which benighted island the title of this document may confer with. As ever, a lot lore plays out in the band’s videos and Jamie Hewlett’s artwork. However it’s clear that a 2023 sense of unease powers this report, with Damon Albarn typically in bittersweet mode, pondering how a deranged cult may take over a fragile society. Acquainted, however inexhaustible, founts of hysteria abound: “Machine assisted, I disappear” Albarn croons affectingly on Silent Running.

This is, concurrently, a really Albarn-forward, state-of-the-world Gorillaz document, and one full of friends channelling totally different energies. Extra outstanding west coasters determine: Afrofuturist funk bassist Thundercat, plus the indefatigable Stevie Nicks, whose visitor vocal on Oil is much less the “fairylike companion” of the lyrics than a superb, bone-dry counterpoint to Albarn. One way or the other, even reggaeton party-bringer Dangerous Bunny sounds nuanced on his track, Tormenta. In the meantime, on the knockout New Gold, Pharcyde rapper Bootie Brown returns (alongside Tame Impala) for a delightfully old-school call-back. It all ends on a considerate thumbs up for the opposable-thumbed, with the pogo-friendly Skinny Ape investing hope in us scrawny simians.