Album: Parklife
Artist: Blur
Born: New Cross, London
Released: April 1994
Genre: Britpop
1994 was year zero for Britpop. After the dark atmospherics of Wu-Tang Clan and Nine Inch Nails, it's quite refreshing to be blogging about something more light and airy, but I'm conscious I'll quickly tire of Britpop. Twenty years ago, art school kids hanging out at Walthamstow dog track was a funny ruse, nowadays the gentrification of suburban London and the capital's descent into a cultural desert, a theme park for the super rich, is nothing short of depressing (incoherent rant over!). What's important to remember right now is the rush of excitement I felt aged 14 walking into Woolworth's in Welling, buying a CD copy of Parklife, devouring the liner notes on the 51 bus home and listening to the album on repeated spins in my bedroom. This was music that spoke to me, it felt personal; three years later, like the lager-soaked lads of Girls & Boys, I'd be going on my own 18-30s holiday to Ibiza. Before the release of Girls & Boys, Blur were just a low-profile indie band who'd won some critical acclaim with Modern Life Is Rubbish. After it, this homage to hedonism catapulted them briefly to global stars, its mix of disco beats and ecstatic synths pulling off that familiar Britpop trick of sounding old and brand new all at the same time. Whatever you might think of Damon Albarn (and I rate him highly), he was a clearly distinctive voice in the 90s and his witty portrayal of Brits Abroad ("count your thoughts on 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 fingers") and London life were always entertaining.
Blur's image in the video for Girls & Boys, of suburban mods wearing Fred Perry tops, has come to define the band as much as their music. Blur cemented their links with rock music's past, and mods in particular, by employing Phil Daniels (star of the film version of The Who's Quadrophenia) as guest vocalist on the title track. At one point in my life, I could recite the lyrics to Parklife verbatim, normally in the style of a Cockney cheeky chappie ("I feed the pigeons / I sometimes feed the sparrows too / it gives me a sense of enormous wellbeing"). What's clearer to me listening to the album now is how Albarn's depictions of working-class life can come across as a little condescending at times. Tracy Jacks is Blur's strained attempt to sound like The Kinks, while End Of A Century has a great melancholic tune but the lyrics are thin. Some of the record's best moments are the melodic Badhead, the breezy To The End and the epic This Is A Low. There aren't enough songs that pay homage to the shipping forecast and Britain's magnificent coastline, but This Is A Low pulls it off brilliantly, enhanced by Graham Coxon's rich guitar sound. I also love the occasional musical interludes, which are reminiscent of English music hall (The Debt Collector) and the sound of the seaside (Lot 105). When you look at how Blur evolved musically during the 90s, ending the decade with the very un-Britpop 13, while many of their peers like Oasis got stuck in a rut, it's clear they were one of the most talented bands to emerge from this time. Parklife, for all its faults, is still a glorious paean to those heady Britpop days.
1994 was year zero for Britpop. After the dark atmospherics of Wu-Tang Clan and Nine Inch Nails, it's quite refreshing to be blogging about something more light and airy, but I'm conscious I'll quickly tire of Britpop. Twenty years ago, art school kids hanging out at Walthamstow dog track was a funny ruse, nowadays the gentrification of suburban London and the capital's descent into a cultural desert, a theme park for the super rich, is nothing short of depressing (incoherent rant over!). What's important to remember right now is the rush of excitement I felt aged 14 walking into Woolworth's in Welling, buying a CD copy of Parklife, devouring the liner notes on the 51 bus home and listening to the album on repeated spins in my bedroom. This was music that spoke to me, it felt personal; three years later, like the lager-soaked lads of Girls & Boys, I'd be going on my own 18-30s holiday to Ibiza. Before the release of Girls & Boys, Blur were just a low-profile indie band who'd won some critical acclaim with Modern Life Is Rubbish. After it, this homage to hedonism catapulted them briefly to global stars, its mix of disco beats and ecstatic synths pulling off that familiar Britpop trick of sounding old and brand new all at the same time. Whatever you might think of Damon Albarn (and I rate him highly), he was a clearly distinctive voice in the 90s and his witty portrayal of Brits Abroad ("count your thoughts on 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 fingers") and London life were always entertaining.
Blur's image in the video for Girls & Boys, of suburban mods wearing Fred Perry tops, has come to define the band as much as their music. Blur cemented their links with rock music's past, and mods in particular, by employing Phil Daniels (star of the film version of The Who's Quadrophenia) as guest vocalist on the title track. At one point in my life, I could recite the lyrics to Parklife verbatim, normally in the style of a Cockney cheeky chappie ("I feed the pigeons / I sometimes feed the sparrows too / it gives me a sense of enormous wellbeing"). What's clearer to me listening to the album now is how Albarn's depictions of working-class life can come across as a little condescending at times. Tracy Jacks is Blur's strained attempt to sound like The Kinks, while End Of A Century has a great melancholic tune but the lyrics are thin. Some of the record's best moments are the melodic Badhead, the breezy To The End and the epic This Is A Low. There aren't enough songs that pay homage to the shipping forecast and Britain's magnificent coastline, but This Is A Low pulls it off brilliantly, enhanced by Graham Coxon's rich guitar sound. I also love the occasional musical interludes, which are reminiscent of English music hall (The Debt Collector) and the sound of the seaside (Lot 105). When you look at how Blur evolved musically during the 90s, ending the decade with the very un-Britpop 13, while many of their peers like Oasis got stuck in a rut, it's clear they were one of the most talented bands to emerge from this time. Parklife, for all its faults, is still a glorious paean to those heady Britpop days.
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