Rating:
Genre:
Rock
Release Date: 05/24/2005
Damon Albarn went to great pains to explain that the first
Gorillaz album was a collaboration between him, cartoonist
Jamie Hewlett, and producer
Dan the Automator, but any sort of pretense to having the virtual
pop group seem like a genuine collaborative band was thrown out the window for the group's long-awaited 2005 sequel,
Demon Days.
Hewlett still provides new animation for
Gorillaz -- although the proposed feature-length film has long disappeared -- but
Dan the Automator is gone, leaving
Albarn as the unquestioned leader of the group. This isn't quite similar to
Blur, a genuine band that faltered after
Graham Coxon decided he had enough, leaving
Damon behind to construct the muddled
Think Tank largely on his own. No,
Gorillaz were always designed as a collective, featuring many contributors and producers, all shepherded by
Albarn, the songwriter, mastermind, and ringleader. Hiding behind
Hewlett's excellent cartoons gave
Albarn the freedom to indulge himself, but it also gave him focus since it tied him to a specific concept. Throughout his career,
Albarn always was at his best when writing in character -- to the extent that anytime he wrote confessionals in
Blur, they sounded stagy -- and
Gorillaz not only gave him an ideal platform, it liberated him, giving him the opportunity to try things he couldn't within the increasingly dour confines of
Blur. It wasn't just that the cartoon concept made for light music -- on the first
Gorillaz album,
Damon sounded as if he were having fun for the first time since
Parklife. But 2005 is a much different year than 2001, and if
Gorillaz exuded the heady, optimistic, future-forward vibes of the turn of the millennium,
Demon Days is as theatrically foreboding as its title, one of the few
pop records made since 9/11 that captures the eerie unease of living in the 21st century. Not really a cartoony feel, in other words, but
Gorillaz indulged in doom and gloom from their very first single,
"Clint Eastwood," so this is not unfamiliar territory, nor is it all that dissimilar from the turgid moodiness of
Blur's 2003
Think Tank. But where
Albarn seemed simultaneously constrained and adrift on that last
Blur album -- attempting to create
indie rock, yet unsure how since messiness contradicts his tightly wound artistic impulses -- he's assured and masterful on
Demon Days, regaining his flair for grand gestures that served him so well at the height of
Britpop, yet tempering his tendency to overreach by keeping the music lean and evocative through his enlistment of
electronica maverick
Danger Mouse as producer.
Demon Days is unified and purposeful in a way
Albarn's music hasn't been since
The Great Escape, possessing a cinematic scope and a narrative flow, as the curtain unveils to the ominous, morose
"Last Living Souls" and then twists and winds through valleys, detours, and wrong paths -- some light, some teeming with dread -- before ending up at the haltingly hopeful title track. Along the way, cameos float in and out of the slipstream and
Albarn relies on several familiar tricks:
the Specials are a touchstone, brooding minor key melodies haunt the album, there are some singalong refrains, while a celebrity recites a lyric (this time, it's
Dennis Hopper). Instead of sounding like musical crutches, this sounds like an artist who knows his strengths and uses them as an anchor so he can go off and explore new worlds. Chief among the strengths that
Albarn relies upon is his ability to find collaborators who can articulate his ideas clearly and vividly.
Danger Mouse, whose
Grey Album mash-up of
the Beatles and
Jay-Z was an underground sensation in 2004, gives this music an elasticity and creeping darkness than infects even such purportedly lighthearted moments as
"Feel Good Inc." It's a sense of menace that's reminiscent of prime
Happy Mondays, so it shouldn't be a surprise that one of the highlights of
Demon Days is
Shaun Ryder's cameo on the tight, deceptively catchy
"Dare." Over a tightly wound four minutes,
"Dare" exploits
Ryder's iconic Mancunian thug persona within territory that belongs to the
Gorillaz -- its percolating beat not too far removed from
"19/2000" -- and that's what makes it a perfect distillation of
Demon Days: by letting other musicians take center stage and by sharing credit with
Danger Mouse,
Damon Albarn has created an allegedly anonymous platform whose genius ultimately and quite clearly belongs to him alone. All the themes and ideas on this album have antecedents in his previous work, but surrounded by new collaborators, he's able to present them in a fresh, exciting way. And he has created a monster album here -- not just in its size, but in its Frankenstein construction. It not only eclipses the first
Gorillaz album, which in itself was a terrific record, but stands alongside the best
Blur albums, providing a tonal touchstone for this decade the way
Parklife did for the '90s. While it won't launch a phenomenon the way that 1994 classic did --
Albarn is too much a veteran artist for that and the music is too dark and weird --
Demon Days is still one hell of a comeback for
Damon Albarn, who seemed perilously close to forever disappearing into his own ego.
~Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
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