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

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

Nine albums in, Blur don't owe anybody any bangers. They are a four-piece very much 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 ago. These are males who have historical past of falling out (Damon Albarn and guitarist Graham Coxon, for two), falling back in collectively, spending time as a band as a result of they need to, as a pleasurable sideshow to their essential gigs. Gorillaz, Albarn’s different spectacularly profitable car, stay 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 lately released 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, last reunion album, The Magic Whip, Blur have produced a report that packs no little excitement. This swiftly wrought document, which James has compared to a surprise child (“we didn’t know we were pregnant, and we gave delivery in a supermarket automotive park”) finds late-life Blur on eloquent, emotional type. It’s an album that always seems to be again, while summoning textures and nuances that only add to their toolkit.