Note for Note: Blur

By Jon R. LaFollette

The band's entire discography was recently released in a lavish box set, but in all honesty, only two records are truly worth your investments; one obvious, one unexpected.

Blur - Modern Life is Rubbish (1993)

Where they struggled with identity on their first go ‘round, here they find themselves in the characters they create, and the mundane (i.e. "modern") situations they place them in. There is Colin Zeal, a well-dressed “modern retard” who takes pleasure in being punctual and important in the corporate ladder, or that sad bloke Julian who can’t take the pressure of whatever the hell it is Damon Albarn can’t quite articulate. Sure the lyrics aren't quite as caught up as the hooks, but sometimes hooks alone will suffice – especially when they are this focused and caffeinated. Still, the first great Blur record suffers from the same deadly sin as every other great Blur record – it’s too top heavy. While the first eight tracks remain some of the strongest, brattiest, punchiest tunes the band ever cooked up, with “Advert” being the punchiest of all, the back half becomes comatose after consuming too many TV dinners. A holiday would have suited them well.  GRADE: A- 

Key Tracks: "Advert" "For Tomorrow" "Sunday Sunday" 

Blur - Think Tank (2003)

Of course Damon Albarn had “nuthin’ to be scared of,” as he says in the opening struts of “Ambulance.” With guitarist Graham Coxon calling it quits, Albarn was liberated from the obligation of making a prototypical Blur record. So he traded his house in the country for a shack in Morocco and turned up the loops and synths and got funky on an album I’ve always considered Gorillaz 2.0 sans the hypnotic weirdness. These are dub songs meant for those who feed on apathy and ecstasy. The drug anthems may be the immediate quick fix thanks to some of the more intricate musicianship found on a Blur record, but it's Albarn's ballads which have held up over the previous decade. The anti-war song "Out of Time" features a Moroccan symphony which adds a flavorful perspective to his Cockney-accented point of view,  while "Battery in Your Leg," the only track which features Coxon's guitar work, finds Albarn sadly, yet peacefully, toasting the difficult friendship that helped define him. But the tenderest tribute comes on "Sweet Song," the album's centerpiece, where Albarn whispers "Come back again, I just believed in you." Turns out he did have sumthin' to be scared of.  GRADE: A-
Key Tracks: "Sweet Song" "Battery In Your Leg" "Out of Time"