Blur Seek Light in the Darkness on The Ballad of Darren: Review
- Oops!Something went wrong.Please try again later.
- Oops!Something went wrong.Please try again later.
The post Blur Seek Light in the Darkness on The Ballad of Darren: Review appeared first on Consequence.
It’s been a long eight years since Blur‘s most recent album, The Magic Whip. The world has changed, and so too have Damon Albarn, guitarist Graham Coxon, bassist Alex James, and drummer Dave Rowntree. But after years of solo and side projects, The Ballad of Darren finds them once again creating as a full four-piece band.
In our cover story highlighting the group’s journey through The Ballad of Darren, Albarn asserts that it’s “the first legit [Blur] album since 13.” It’s an unsurprising claim given the more heady content of The Magic Whip, and it sets up The Ballad of Darren to be the “return to form” for which fans have been clamoring.
But while The Ballad of Darren finds a classic Britpop stride that many have come to know and love, there’s a sense of melancholy swimming through each track. Now, Blur have less in common with their former rivals Oasis and more with latter day Arctic Monkeys; the orchestral lounge pop and moody tones of Tranquility Base Hotel + Casino and The Car are only a few degrees away from the contemplative indie found in The Ballad of Darren.
Though he refrains from going into the deep end, The Ballad of Darren is undoubtedly influenced by loss and strife in Albarn’s personal life — separations, the deaths of close friends and collaborators, the pandemic, and a changing world are all acknowledged throughout the album. He ruminates on ghosts and “Many paths I wish I’d taken” on the acoustic number “The Everglades,” his warm baritone full of cracks and croaks that radiate intimacy. He stumbles over existential queries, often asking open-ended questions and wondering if it’s all pointless. He rarely escalates beyond the most comfortable part of his voice, so much so that when he does extend his range, like in the final song, “The Heights,” it feels like all the lights in the building have just turned back on, if only for a moment.
This all points to The Ballad of Darren serving as a bit of a lull, a brief stopover for Albarn to let out some of those middle-aged demons. And yet, it’s still a Blur album, and it’s full of rousing surprises. Second single “St. Charles Square” is an infectious bit of slacker rock, hearkening back to their wandering early works. It’s appropriately stacked with choirs of “Oohs” and “Ahhs,” but they’re offset by Albarn’s occasional yelps and moody narration.
Many songs follow this lopsided pattern. There are plenty of nostalgic guitar lines from Coxon, ranging from serene to lively, that become counterbalanced by something off — usually a crushingly sad line from Albarn. “Barbaric” is the most guitar-forward song on the album, with Coxon letting the blooming lead line pop just enough to keep you waiting for the next one. It’s a festival-ready sing-along track, but Albarn’s lyrics are dripping with sorrow.
This juxtaposition — anthemic songs with depressing lyrics, comforting sounds beneath legitimate fears — is at the core of both The Ballad of Darren and Blur altogether. It’s clear that Albarn finds safety in his bandmates; washes of harmonies, mostly from Coxon, frequently ring out as if to say, “We know how you feel, Damon.” They embrace this unity on “The Heights,” a hopeful number that suggests the light at the end of the tunnel is near, if only they could find it.
But rather than end on a vulnerable high, the band reduces the song to crushing, overwhelming static. It’s a harsh way to conclude such a tender track, and an almost absurd way to finish The Ballad of Darren. And yet, it’s a strangely fitting reminder of this band’s ephemeral nature, that their power together can only last for a brief, shimmering moment — after Blur completes their reunion world tour, they’ll each go back to their respective solo projects and country homes, and Damon Albarn will continue his prolific artistic output with more thrilling collaborators.
For now, The Ballad of Darren is these four’s statement of resilience and unbreakable respect towards one another. Coxon in particular is the bearer of levity throughout the album, whether that’s through his rollicking guitar parts or his enjoyable backing vocals. His echoes of Albarn’s reflections in lead single “The Narcissist” aren’t just classic, they’re a bit funny — Albarn literally sings “I heard no echoes” with Coxon behind him crooning “No echo,” a line later. Albarn sings “There was distortion everywhere,” Coxon then confirming with clarity, “Everywhere!”
Because of the melancholy spirit that dominates much of The Ballad of Darren, it does mean that not all the songs land in memorable fashion. The slow-burning “Far Away Island” is full of lush tones and dreamy reverb, but Albarn’s exercises in longing only take the song so far. The album’s orchestral flourishes help to add a classical air, but they’re almost always background ingredients, suspended between Albarn’s musings and the band’s carefully-drawn arrangements, and never really commanding a track.
For those looking for a Blur album that repeats the charged success of their ’90s heyday, then The Ballad of Darren isn’t quite it. While it’s as contemplative as Albarn’s early looks at British life and identity, the magnifying glass is pointed inwards, and the band is wrestling with how to move forward in peace. And yet, as Albarn assures, these are still Blur songs through and through, a voicing of ideas linked to band’s past while turning their gaze towards the future.
Growing older can be sad, but Blur know that light arrives after darkness. Across 10 songs, you can hear them each trying to find it, hand in hand, harmony after harmony.
Blur Seek Light in the Darkness on The Ballad of Darren: Review
Paolo Ragusa
Popular Posts
