In America, Blur seem to be known as either "the band with the 'whoo-hoo!' song" or "the arty little snots who dared to poke fun at anthemic, irony-free Oasis." In their native UK, they're singalong superstars. Or at least they were, until the band's last self-titled release found singer Damon Albarn and guitarist Graham Coxon soaking up American indie-rock (so the story goes) and putting some jagged edges around the jolliness.
Seemingly made with no particular aim or direction, 13 is a record that may lose the band as many fans as it gains. The disc boasts one indelible, chanting big single ("Tender") but gets progressively hazier from there, establishing an enthralling, head-bobbing groove that considers the steely modernism of Massive Attack while re-conjuring the vanguard electronic experiments of early Eno/Roxy Music.
"Tender" is a remarkably audacious and assured beginning for such a weird album, but it works. An anthem to rival "Bittersweet Symphony", "Champagne Supernova", or as many have suggested, "You Can't Always Get What You Want", the seven-minute tune tugs at the heartstrings with an exhorting gospel choir and Albard dropping Bowie-low to croon, "Love's the greatest thing."
Don't get comfortable, for the next song is the most abrasive on the album (save for the punk Donald Duck contortions of "B.L.U.R.E.M.I.") - "Bugman" is nearly as anthemic as "Tender" but worlds scarier, filtering rock dynamics (check the "na na nas" buried behind the chorus) through webs of distortion and paranoia. The next three tracks are, well, flawless - "Coffee & TV" is Velvetsy strum-and-drone with a sparkling pop hook that sneaks out of the mix; "1992" drones deeper, with Coxon's insistent guitars imitating bubbling lava emerging from scorched earth; and "Swamp Song" is spotlit swagger ("Gimme space brain!" that would've fit on the Velvet Goldmine soundtrack.
Following "B.L.U.R.E.M.I."'s fun thrash, 13 really starts to dig in, creating the sort of lulling yet oddball soundscape that will always be in demand as long as pallid young men don headphones. Tracks 7-11 work up a sort of elegant saunter around which all manner of freak-out guitars, synths, and echoing splats of sound pan in and out. Albarn is another instrument, filling the corners of the songs with witless scatting and simple phrases ("I lost my girl to the Rolling Stones") repeated for effect. "Caramel" is the highlight, a trip-hoppy cut that builds to a fierce percussive rumble as Albarn's vocal ("baaa-beee", I think) pleads urgently. After the power-chord thrust of "Trimm Trabb", the burnt-out ballad "No Distance Left To Run" is the sweet comedown, like standing barefoot on the beery carpet at 7 am on the morning after, but with those cooing background vocals making it all somehow pleasant.
"Tender" aside, Blur effectively remove themselves from the Britpop rat race with 13. It's not so much a cop-out as a drop-out; 13 can sound as zonked as your mood demands but never loses the plot entirely, suggesting that Blur are in a mode of nonlinear creativity that has little to do with fan expectation or competition with other groups but still sounds fresh, up-to-the-minute and will wow us anyway.
--Lane Hewitt