Blur live at the London Astoria
8 May 2003
Reviewed by The Observer

Night of the Damon

After his stint with a cartoon band, Albarn is a little too animated for Blur. Could he be missing his departed guitarist as much as we do?

There are nine people in Blur tonight, but really this is a one-man show. All the newfangled racks of percussion that litter the stage don't come as such a surprise, given Blur's flip from rock band to something quite different on their latest album, Think Tank . Made in Morocco with the aid of spluttery electronics, sultry Eastern tones and Fatboy Slim, Think Tank displays Blur's evolution. But what is startling tonight is how much the crush of stuff and bodies onstage weights the band in favour of one player - Damon Albarn.

Three backing singers whoop it up to the left, adding harmonies and funny little dance moves, even to really old songs. Percussionist Karl Vanden Bossche sits next to Blur drummer Dave Rowntree, grafting on new bits of clatter and sparkle. Behind Alex James, Blur's laconic bass player, keyboard and sax player Mike Smith contributes loops and bloops. Out front, replacement guitarist Simon Tong - borrowed from The Verve - plays the notes and keeps out of the way.

He's wise to, because Albarn is all-action - careening around, jumping into the photographers' pit to commune with the front rows, tirelessly exhorting the audience to new heights of pogo-ing, thrashing at his guitar.

It's Rowntree's birthday so we sing to him. James still crosses his legs like he needs the toilet as he nonchalantly plunks out basslines. But these surviving members of Blur - they lost angular guitarist Graham Coxon to musical differences as Think Tank was being recorded - seem like bit players in tonight's drama.

Perhaps it was touring with his giddily successful pop outfit Gorillaz that has brought out the wild man in Albarn now. On that tour he played behind a screen to maintain the mystery of the cartoon band. Now he's making up for being out of the limelight: eyes bulging, jaw locked, wringing with sweat, willing the crowd - in a faintly Nietzschean sense - to love the new stuff.

Usually this kind of behaviour makes for a great frontman. It's the kind of triumphalist aggression for which Albarn's former arch-rival, Liam Gallagher, is feted. But at its height tonight - on the strangely resurrected 'Top Man', a rotten song that dates from The Great Escape , or when Damon blows his adoring moshpit a vicious, snarling kiss at the end of 'For Tomorrow' - this vehemence is just ugly.

It's so much better when he relaxes and has some fun. The new song 'Ambulance' starts the night off so promisingly, with its stealthy accretion of instruments and steady head of melody. It's a great advert for the new sun-stroked, twist-fit Blur, as is the current single 'Out Of Time', all elegant croon and sweep. 'Good Song', too, lives up to its name, illustrated on the backdrop by a sky at daybreak. (Yes, yes, new dawn, we get it.)

Coming second in the set, 'Moroccan People's Revolutionary Bowls Club' feels a little too cacophonous and bitty this early on in proceedings, especially when Damon attempts an unwise dub-Jah yelp. It's just the sort of thing many will be fearing from this newly well-travelled group, and it falls awkwardly. But he pulls off a lovely, transcendent wail in 'Trimm Traub', from Blur's previous album, 13 , whose loops and layers heralded Think Tank 's meandering path. It's one of tonight's unquestionable highlights, and it underlines quite how good Blur can be.

Sadly this warm glow doesn't last. Another misstep is 'Brothers And Sisters', a loose and funky jam about the perils of drug-taking that loosens and funks up no one. Its high moral tone is in some contrast to the swivel-eyed spectacle Albarn makes on 'Beetlebum' and 'Girls And Boys' - two reliably thrilling songs - and the less fortuitous 'Crazy Beat', what Blur are clearly hoping will be the new 'Song 2'. It's a title that eluded Blur's normally wakeful cringe-ometer. The tune's not too hot either, wacky and not nearly as clever as their phalanx of hits.

It's impossible not to mention the ghostly Banquo at this occasion, guitarist Coxon. New man Tong has a solid, Northern lad-rock way about him that fits oddly with Blur's arty eccentricities, although it is sweet to hear him play his semi-acoustic like a member of the Byrds on 'Badhead'. He's not bad at this, just different.

Blur's latterday anthem, 'Song 2', is always a pleasure to hear, but tonight its raucous American punk riff is delivered as though by an alien. And 'Battery In Your Leg', the one song on the new Blur album that features Coxon's vestigial guitar, feels slightly wrong without him, although you do feel that Blur are playing it in some sort of tribute.

'Alex got married last week,' says Damon, sweetly, at one point. 'Graham came along as well. It was a nice thing.'

Ultimately you have to hope Coxon comes back. Albarn is a fantastic lead singer of a strong Blur - charismatic, clever, inspired - but as a one-man show Blur are lopsided and not as easy to love.

Kitty Empire

© 2003 The Observer

Archived by Veikko's Blur Page - www.vblurpage.com