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

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

9 albums in, Blur do not owe anyone any bangers. They're a four-piece very a lot within the post-urgent stage of their career, reaping the rewards of their lengthy musical life at a pair of ecstatically received Wembley Arena mega-gigs a number of weeks in the past. These are men who have historical past of falling out (Damon Albarn and guitarist Graham Coxon, for 2), falling back in together, spending time as a band because they need to, as a pleasurable sideshow to their fundamental gigs. Gorillaz, Albarn’s different spectacularly successful car, remain lively. In his spare time he’s writing another opera. Coxon, a longtime solo artist, has the Waeve, a wealthy 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 but, eight years on from their satisfying, if less urgent, final reunion album, The Magic Whip, Blur have produced a document that packs no little pleasure. 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 back, whereas summoning textures and nuances that solely add to their toolkit.