Gorillaz: Cracker Island review – bittersweet tunes for anxious times

(Parlophone)
A thoughtful eighth album blends Damon Albarn’s state-of-the-world considerations with the skills of collaborators from Stevie Nicks to Thundercat

Although their eighth LP found this cartoon band decamping to California to work with producer Greg Kurstin, it’s arduous not to speculate which benighted island the title of this document may check with. As ever, a lot lore plays out in the band’s videos and Jamie Hewlett’s artwork. However it’s clear that a 2023 sense of unease powers this document, with Damon Albarn typically in bittersweet mode, pondering how a deranged cult may take over a fragile society. Familiar, however inexhaustible, founts of hysteria abound: “Machine assisted, I disappear” Albarn croons affectingly on Silent Running.

That is, concurrently, a really Albarn-forward, state-of-the-world Gorillaz report, and one full of visitors channelling totally different energies. More outstanding west coasters figure: Afrofuturist funk bassist Thundercat, plus the indefatigable Stevie Nicks, whose visitor vocal on Oil is much less the “fairylike companion” of the lyrics than a superb, bone-dry counterpoint to Albarn. One way or the other, even reggaeton party-bringer Dangerous Bunny sounds nuanced on his track, Tormenta. In the meantime, on the knockout New Gold, Pharcyde rapper Bootie Brown returns (alongside Tame Impala) for a delightfully old-school call-back. It all ends on a thoughtful thumbs up for the opposable-thumbed, with the pogo-friendly Skinny Ape investing hope in us scrawny simians.