Damon Albarn:
Everyday Robots:
Thirteen/EMI:
CD/vinyl/download:
Out now:
★★★★★★★☆☆☆
Now that Blur have had their brief olympian return to euphoria, it's back to business for the various members. Alex James is still living in a very big house in the country, crafting artisan cheeses and co-directing festivals, Graham Coxon occasionally knocking out quality solo albums and Dave Rowntree is, well, Dave Rowntree the campaigning Labour activist.
Sharing a similar musical path with Coxon, Damon Albarn has expanded on just being 'solo'. He's revived Gorillaz, written an opera, collaborated with Massive Attack and Africa Express and has still found time to construct a 'proper' solo album. You can't knock him for his work-rate, passion and belief.
Everyday Robots is, however, totally unlike anything Coxon has delivered. Or Blur, for that matter. Mostly plaintive, sullen even, Albarn's current oeuvre displays a man content with his lot but still searching for the perfect song. As long as he keeps looking, we'll be treated to things like this - Everyday Robots is rather lovely, for the most part, if a little dour.
It isn't all sad-face though - Albarn's ear for nursery-rhymes and playful moments come to the fore on the catchy Mr Tembo and cartoonish interlude Parakeet - but Albarn's in no mood for a rave-up. This is the come-down after the trip, the hangover after the party, the Sunday after the Saturday before, a time for reflection and for the curtains to remain firmly drawn. Like Karl Hyde's glimmering solo effort Edgeland of last year, here is a frontman eschewing powerful stadium-filling anthems for atmospheric malady and introspection. It's an album for twilight - you've had your Parklife, you've had Demon Days and the difficult Doctor Dee. Now give the man some room. If you crave a Blur comparable, try the slower moments on Think Tank.
It doesn't all work - the closing few songs wither a bit - but on the whole you should peel back your ears and give it a punt.
Everyday Robots:
Thirteen/EMI:
CD/vinyl/download:
Out now:
★★★★★★★☆☆☆
Sharing a similar musical path with Coxon, Damon Albarn has expanded on just being 'solo'. He's revived Gorillaz, written an opera, collaborated with Massive Attack and Africa Express and has still found time to construct a 'proper' solo album. You can't knock him for his work-rate, passion and belief.
Everyday Robots is, however, totally unlike anything Coxon has delivered. Or Blur, for that matter. Mostly plaintive, sullen even, Albarn's current oeuvre displays a man content with his lot but still searching for the perfect song. As long as he keeps looking, we'll be treated to things like this - Everyday Robots is rather lovely, for the most part, if a little dour.
It isn't all sad-face though - Albarn's ear for nursery-rhymes and playful moments come to the fore on the catchy Mr Tembo and cartoonish interlude Parakeet - but Albarn's in no mood for a rave-up. This is the come-down after the trip, the hangover after the party, the Sunday after the Saturday before, a time for reflection and for the curtains to remain firmly drawn. Like Karl Hyde's glimmering solo effort Edgeland of last year, here is a frontman eschewing powerful stadium-filling anthems for atmospheric malady and introspection. It's an album for twilight - you've had your Parklife, you've had Demon Days and the difficult Doctor Dee. Now give the man some room. If you crave a Blur comparable, try the slower moments on Think Tank.
It doesn't all work - the closing few songs wither a bit - but on the whole you should peel back your ears and give it a punt.