The one musician Damon Albarn could listen to forever: “Exactly what a leader should do”
Looking back at the Britpop battle 30 years later, I’ve come to realise that Blur and Oasis had no real business being pitted against each other quite like they were.
As Pete Doherty once famously said, “I subscribe to the Umberto Eco view that Noel Gallagher’s a poet and Liam’s a town crier.” A suitably odd yet emotional appraisal from Doherty, which is undoubtedly on the money. The brothers were the working-class warriors whose gritty brand of rock and roll provided a vital and passionate insight into everyday British life.
Sure, Blur did that also with everyday anthems like ‘Parklife’, but in no way was their music following the same path of intention as Oasis’. The Manchester band were an unfiltered shot of rock and roll in the arm, whereas Blur were a band quietly focused on sprinkling global music influences into their trusty brand of indie rock.
Because if you listen to Blur all the way from their 1991 debut Leisure, right up until their most recent record, The Ballad Of Darren, the ambition to step outside of their sonic pigeon hole is clear. There was never exactly a clear desire to write a song that matched ‘Wonderwall’ or ‘Champagne Supernova’, instead an aspiration to create something that paid homage to the musicians who inspired their love of music.
For Albarn, those musicians existed outside of the British Isles. While he’ll cite the obscurity of krautrock as a creative muse, it ultimately comes down to the fundamental style of one jazz icon when Albarn looks for inspiration
He said, “Miles Davis attacks, especially on records like Bitches Brew and On The Corner. Some of it’s toxin and some of it’s anti-toxin, but you could listen forever because of the way it’s been put together. I suppose there were bands like Can doing something similar, but Miles was taking huge chunks of recordings and really chopping them, then piecing them together.”
Explaining, “It seems like such an obvious evolution from there to where we are now, but that was like ten or 15 years before the technology was available. And that’s exactly what a leader should do – you should hear a leader say, ‘And I’ve seen into the future.’”
He added, “I’ve had three phases in my Miles Davis listening – when I bought the records I was younger and felt that I really had to listen to them, and forced myself through it. The second time, I was a bit more familiar, and this time, well, I’m in there now. And the message is that in order to actually understand the music and involve yourself in it, you have to learn the language.”
Albarn’s curiosity about the evolution of an artist is clear in his fandom of Davis. And unlike his Mancunian rivals, it is something that he implemented into his own career. He’s shifting from indie rock to hip hop and beyond, desperately trying to understand the future through his music and, like Davis, acting as the leader of the project when doing it.
