Seeing Stars
From "terribly
un-rock 'n' roll" Colchester come bright sparks
BLUR, cocky groovers with a promising single "She's
So High". STEVE LAMACQ finds a glimmer of hope
amidst the dour Essex scenery.
  f your early schooldays were a dull,
uneventful affair, then you certainly weren't in the same
class as studying hip-swivellers Blur.
"Our school got burnt down seven
times in two years," explains wide-eyed vocalist
Damon, "and in the end they found it was our teacher
who was doing it. He said in court it was because he'd
been overlooked for the deputy headship and he couldn't
cope anymore...
"But he was still teaching us at
the time...burning down the school at night and coming in
the next morning and saying 'Sorry children, someone has
set fire to the school again, so we're going to have to
move to another building.' "
This kind of anarchic anecdote sounds
like it's straight out of fantasy but Damon swears it's
true. The teacher was put away for six years, he adds,
dramatically.
In the punk heyday, it was
the done thing to drift through school and on to art
college. Both Blur guitarist Graham and bassist Alex were
art students before quitting for music, Damon was at
drama school in East London before swapping theatre for
gigs.
Picking up drummer Dave from their
hometown Colchester scene, the four formed a band called
Seymour. They sounded like The Wolfhounds, and resembled
a ragged, speed-freak Stone Roses (ie, not very good).
Enter Food Records, who are developing a knack for taking
average bands from the London circuit and helping them
fulfil their potential.
Having succeeded with Jesus Jones -
previously an appallingly bland outfit called Camouflage
- the label signed Seymour and went to work. The band
changed their name, cleared up their identity and -
KER-CHING! - cash-tills started quavering.
This week Blur release
their debut 45, a timely, mesmeric dance-trance 12-inch
called 'She's So High'. Destined to crack the Top 60 at
their first attempt, the powerfully swirling single bears
out the craving for Blur which has come, not just from
The Business (including a recently signed £80,000
publishing deal with MCA) but from an already burgeoning
following.
Everyone wants a piece of Blur. The
single is a central point between the current indie
Ride-style guitar groups to their left and the acidic
Manc mobs to their right. In the middle, occupying a more
groove-oriented position than Carter (USM), Blur are a
psychedelic, less formularised version of labelmates
Jesus Jones. They're cocky, attractive and flog loads of
T-shirts. If the next stop's the charts, first there's
time for a brief diverson.
TO CELEBRATE the release
of 'She's So High' we decide to 'do' the interview back
in Colchester, where three of the band and I all started
out - not far from the aforementioned fire-raising
school. It's symbolic that we leave London Liverpool
Street in a blaze of sunshine and arrive in Essex to a
grey, overcast Friday afternoon.
When Blur grab Top Of The Pops
status they'll be the first group with Colchester
connections to 'make it' in years. Colchester, the oldest
market town in Britain, once the jewel-like outpost in
the Roman Empire, is a claustrophobically conservative
enviroment to grow up in: its spurious 'nightlife' being
governed by two words...SMART CASUAL. It's a terribly
un-rock 'n' roll place, at weekends the squaddies from
the local garrison go into town to drink their wages and
harass the locals. Living here is like living in a wet
sponge.
"When I was at
school," says Graham, "we were asked to bring
in photos of what people thought of Colchester and
everyone just brought in pictures of men digging holes. I
took pictures of gravestones...it's death for young
people, this place."
And Blur? They're the resurrection -
which starts at opening time. The Blur drink is
Cider & Pernod in halves (Damon: "15 of these
and I'm away"). Andy Ross from Food Records has come
along to chaperone the band, which brings up the topic of
the record company.
Ross: "This lot, oh, they've sold
out. But we're a cool label to sell out to."
Food, to their credit, don't so much
dictate to bands as direct them - a gentle moulding
effect. In Blur's case they've drawn out the more
accessible points of the band and focused their 'image'.
The band look cutely rebellious now, compared to their
Second Hand Clothes Shop look before. Musically they fit
snugly into what's happening at the moment.
"But we can't help
that," says Damon shrugging his shoulders,
"we're just one of those lucky bastard bands who've
come out with the right record at the right time. All the
material we started off with a year ago is suddenly 'in'
now. Like 'She's So High' was the first song we ever
wrote - and that hasn't changed at all. Obviously we've
been given advice but we don't worry about it. If people
want to percive that we've been moulded then OK, that's
cool."
"We were very messy before,"
adds Graham, "But we're just learning what to do
with ourselves, finding our identity. I mean it's quite
obvious what we are now. A f---ing groovy band."
I'm playing Devils' Advocate here.
"Yeah, but it's obvious that
we're still going to look different to other bands,"
returns Damon lucidly, "because we've got something
that draws people to us. There are fundamental reasons
why people like bands. They're drawn to certain groups
because they WANT them - whether it's in an emotional,
sexual or intellectual way, they want the band.
That's us."
DAMON IS a good frontman
to have in a group. Despite looking dopey, he's like a
less dicatorial version of Jesus Jones' Mike Edwards,
talkative and volatile. On stage his theatrics include
throwing himself off the PA and thrashing around like
he's just plugged his hand into a light socket. "To
feel ill at the end of a gig, that's great. That's what
I'd have liked to have achieved when I was acting but I
couldn't because I was so consious of myself. In a funny
way you can get away with more in a band than you can
when you're an actor."
Although in interviews he
deterorates in a dribbling mass of rambling quotes, his
middle class tearaway flaws are part of Blur's appeal.
That chemical balance which critics say is always
inherent in all good bands is some way apparent in Blur -
Graham acting as the foil to Damon's drunken garbage,
Alex the soft-spoken Bournemouth outsider and Dave the
quiet type. "I used to get beaten up quite a lot
when I lived round here," Damon admits, "but
maybe I'm the sort of person who asks for it because I
sound quite arrogant when I talk.
"I wouldn't say I was particulary
volatile but...oh, alright, I am. I'm horribly cynical. I
don't suffer fools gladly. Anything which I think is in
the least bit foolish really irratates me. Like people
who make a thing out of being weak and insecure, I hate
that. But I'm a big fool anyway, so maybe I just hate
myself."
"Wow," says Graham
sarcastically. "That's deep."
"Aww, shut up."
Got it? Blur's "destructive love song", 'She's
So High', the most frustrated, pent-up moment of their
live set, is released on Monday. Blur as a band, with
their unpredictable, vunerable character and hybrid pop
music will be on TOTP by next March. Latest.
Steve
Lamacq
Typed up by BlurPoint
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