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Graham Coxon - Love Travels At Illegal Speeds
Reviewed
by
NME, March 2006
What was that band he used to be in again?
 One
of the most abiding memories of Britpop, more so than Noel
quaffing champers with a fresh-faced Tony Blair and more
so than Jarvis' Jacko-baiting at the Brits, is Blur's
performance of 'Country House' on Top Of The Pops. They
were the victors of this greatest-ever chart battle: Damon
Albarn avoiding the grasps of teenage girls, his
competitive urges satiated, albeit temporarily; Alex James
grinning at the thought of all the, "Oh, what a card you
are!" comments his Oasis T-shirt would command that
evening; drummer Dave Rowntree, er, drumming, anonymous as
ever.
And cowering it the corner of the stage was Graham Coxon,
miming along to a contrary, disjointed solo more suited to
a Sonic Youth experimental album than this most vulgar of
Blur moments, knowing, just knowing, as the other three
would years later sheepishly confirm, that all of this was
wrong.
No surprise therefore that subsequent Coxo outings,
whether with or without his now most-definitely former
band, were to veer as far in the direction of the
leftfield as the politics of that now most-definitely
former drinking buddy of Gallagher Sr would to the right.
The 'Song 2'-heralding 'Blur' album was the sound of this
shellshocked guitarist forcing his bandmates to flick
through his Pavement and Dinosaur Jr records; '13' became
Blur's 'experimental' record (and Graham's last with the
band), while his initial solo releases were lo-fi and
proof of this recovering alcoholic's reclusive tendencies.
But then, seemingly in a flash, everything changed.
'Parklife' producer Stephen Street was called, wilful
obtuseness was ditched in favour of tunes (2004's
'Happiness In Magazines' and specifically 'Freakin' Out')
and before you knew it Coxon was onstage with Carl at his
Dirty Pretty Things night, inviting Pete to play 'Time For
Heroes' with him at his own gigs, getting asked to tour
with Kaiser Chiefs and being held as a godfather figure
for a new generation of DIY kids unimpressed by the
cocaine-addled rockstar-isms of the '90s. These were his
people, and if adulation, with which Graham had seemed so
uncomfortable in the mid-'90s, was a part of his life
again, so also this time were sobriety and - crucially - a
sense of affinity.
Not that 'Love Travels At Illegal Speeds', Coxon's sixth
solo album is contented. Rather, it's a very honest record
that is, by turns, shy, strident, effervescent, romantic,
fun, funny, sad, charming, often upbeat on the surface yet
sometimes confused at its heart, and as such is one that
perfectly represents its creator. Opener 'Standing On My
Own Again' is typical, marrying a backdrop of sharp,
energetic Jam-esque riffs to couplets like, "The future's
looking black and it's a sight to see/Just a thousand grey
waves crashing over me". This is, as advertised, an album
about love, but one by a now-single 36-year-old ex-pop
pin-up that's full of the same frustration, worries and
confusion that defined early Buzzcocks (the most obvious
musical touchstone here). 'Don't Let Your Man Know'
fantasises about being a bit on the side to some girl on
the streets of Camden, 'What's He Got?' gets baffled by
inferior men with way-out-of-their-league ladies and
'Gimme Some Love', the heaviest moment here, is about
exactly what its title implies.
If all this sounds a bit mid-life crisis then... well, it
isn't. The Pete Townshend, in-front-of-the-mirror
powerchording is offset by the genuine innocence of a man
only just finding his feet in adulthood, more clearly
visible in downbeat moments 'Just A State Of Mind' and
'Don't Believe Anything I Say': lovely, emotionally open
acoustic guitar-as-comfort-blanket confessionals that
paint as important a part of this self-portrait as the
adolescent pop-punk thrills of the likes of 'I Can't Look
At Your Skin'. Best of all is the closing, mini-epic 'See
A Better Day'("I feel like I can fly"), one of Coxon's
finest ever songs, on which Stephen Street's subtle,
Beatles-esque production touches perfectly complement the
sense of optimism. It's a fine end to a fine album that,
while not likely to win any prizes for Gorillaz-style
innovation, will resonate, both musically and lyrically,
with fans young rather than old. It may be Blur's lead
singer's 'project' that's got the grown-up broadsheet
critics gushing and the Grammys rolling in, but it's their
ex-guitarist who still, in the eyes (and hearts) of the
kids, is alright. And that, frankly, matters much, much
more.
8/10
Hamish MacBain
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