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 Back to: Archive · 1997
The Great Mistake... or is it?

NME feature on 'Blur', 15 February 1997. By James Oldham.

Of course, they always liked American music. Understandably though, the news that Blur have 'gone lo-fi' has still been greeted with international shock, amazement and hilarity.


But it really is true. Buy the new Blur album (simply titled 'Blur') and no longer are there any jolly insights into the psyche of Essex Man, instead there is muffled distortion, organ-bending noise and several days of drawled discussion about UFOs. Or something.


Blur, you see, have become slackers. Inspired by Pavement, they've elected to join the American underground. No-one is going to accuse them of sounding like pained whelk-vendors anymore, because from now, Blur are going to be synonymous with all things weird and experimental...


Who, though, wants that? 'Beetlebum' might have been Number One, but will the same fans be able to stomach 60 minutes of poetry and vacuum cleaner demonstrations? Will the teenage girls who thrilled to the sight of four cheeky chaps singing about parks be quite so enamoured with four blokes pretending to be gas-pump attendants with wonky guitars?


Still, maybe they'll attract new fans. Perhaps the lo-fi community will embrace their brave initiative. Perhaps there'll be split singles with Yummy Fur and Mogwai, monthly residencies at more 'intimate' venues and a regular 'Damon Salutes America' column in a dodgy Glaswegian fanzine.


It's an exciting thought, so exciting in fact that NME has resolved to find out all the answers for you. Right now! The plan is simple: we take four teenage girls and four stars of lo-fi and force them to listen to Blur's new record. We thus ingeniously reveal the mood of the nation...




You join us in giggling Buckinghamshire. Katharine Potter, Clare Peacock, Amenah Raven and Katy Monk are warning NME that if any of their names are spelled incorrectly they will exact terrible and violent revenge on the culprit. They are sitting in Clare Peacock's bedroom, hemmed in by Blur posters, excitedly having their pictures taken. There's one thing they'd really like to make clear from the outset, though.


"We did like Blur before 'Parklife'," declares Amenah. "I mean, I've got 'Leisure' and 'Modern Life Is Rubbish'."


"Yeah," agrees Katharine, "when they became really famous that quite annoyed me because they'd been around for ages, and suddenly there's all these screaming girls liking them."


How old were you when 'Parklife' came out? You can only have been about 13 or 14.


"Yeah, but we liked them before. They were my favourite band," states Amenah crossly, fixing NME with a chilly glare. Perhaps we'll just leave them to get on with it then.


After what seems like several hours, our panel march into the living room and demand that we start. Before we turn the album on, though, perhaps you could tell us what your favourite Blur song is?


All: 'End Of A Century'.


Did you like 'The Great Escape'?


"I hated it," hisses Katy.


"It was crap," insists Katharine.


"And depressing," adds Clare. "I mean, on 'Parklife', they could have released any of the songs as singles."


What do you think the new album will sound like?


All: "Like 'The Great Escape'... ha ha ha... and not as good as 'Parklife'."


Oh...


The album commences with 'Beetlebum'. Heads are nodded, the words are partially remembered and everyone agrees that Blur can still write a pretty neat tune when they want to. Three songs later, though, and they aren't so convinced.


"It's not like Blur at all, Damon's voice is different," offers Katy.


"Maybe he thought as he was changing his image, he better change his singing voice as well," suggests Clare.


"It sounds like it's aimed at older people," adds Katharine.


Maybe that's the point? Blur are fed up with their screaming teen fans?


"But we're the people who made them rich!" splutters Clare.


"It's a bit insulting, isn't it?" says Amenah. "I think it's a bit late to drop his fans now."


"You couldn't listen to this at a party," decrees Clare. "I mean, who do they want to like it? Middle-aged men? We're the ones who are going to buy the albums and make them rich.


"I mean, Damon might have got slated for being a Cockney, but now he's going to get slated for being shit... ha ha ha."


We continue with the rest of the album. At the end of Side One someone turns the telly on, midway through Side Two there is a breakaway discussion about Liz Hurley and when we finally reach the final eight-minute Valium-drone of 'Essex Dogs', they can't take anymore.


"If you were listening to this on your own," asserts Clare, "you'd be hiding under the covers thinking, 'Where's Damon with the dagger?'"


"Perhaps grunge fans will like it," states Katy despondently.


"Maybe we've grown out of them, as well as them growing out of us," concludes Amenah, sadly.


What mark would you give it out of ten, then?


Katharine: "Five and a half."


Clare: "Five for the ones that I like."


Amenah: "I would say four and a half, I don't really like it."


Katy: "Five or maybe six. No, five."


Which makes a grand total of 20 points. Oh dear...




Still, if you thought that was a bit harsh, hopes aren't high for a drastic improvement from our lo-fi panel. After all, this is a group of hardline extremists accustomed to living life on the edge (well, in small flats in north London anyway). Please welcome Tjinder from trance-rockers Cornershop, Ray from the deafening Ligament, Jeff from NME regulars Nub and Russell, who isn't in a band at all, but works in Slam City Skates (London's trendy skate shop - Fashion Ed).


Before today, none of them was a Blur fan: Jeff is American, Ray has spent a lifetime trying to ignore them, Tjinder hasn't arrived yet and Russell once knew someone who was keen to stalk Damon to get a free bit of publicity for their fanzine. So, before we've even turned the tape on, they've started to mutter darkly.


"It's impossible for Blur to have gone lo-fi," argues Ray. "It's a question of resources. It's about going into the studio, only having two days and knowing you've got to leave all the mistakes in. Blur are never going to do that, are they?"


What's this going to sound like then?


"It's going to be slightly experimental and very glossy," agree Jeff and Ray.


"Well, I've got absolutely no idea. I'm just scared," admits Russell.


The album starts, and no-one tries to smash the stereo. Tjinder arrives, Brainiac are mentioned, and Russell puts his head in his hands. Side One ends with the general feeling still positive.


"There were a couple of songs there which I never would have thought were Blur," reveals a stunned Ray.


"I think the audacity of them making this album is really great," enthuses Tjinder.


"It's still impossible to forget this is Blur though, just because you know them and the sins that they've committed in the past. It's like trying to imagine a world without shoes," backtracks Ray.


"I like the ones with the organ on them, though," adds Jeff.


There is, however, a dissenter.


"I'm just really cynical about all this shit," admits Russell. "Blur are a mainstream group with a manager, an A&R man and all the rest of it, and it just so happens that all the ideas that they've come up with for this record are in fashion at the moment. You just can't believe in it."


Time for Side Two then, the more 'experimental' side. Serious expressions are adopted, and talk moves away from Brainiac to Arab Strap. It is universally agreed that 'Strange News From Another Star' sounds like Spinal Tap's 'Stonehenge'. That, however, is the only time anyone openly laughs, for the rest of the time there is quiet respect. They think it's quite good.


"I liked the poppy songs like 'Beetlebum' and 'Song 2', I didn't like the ones that are trying to sound like American bands," begins Jeff.


"Well I thought some of this sounded great, totally credible. It sounded like it could easily have been a lo-fi band," argues Ray. "I don't think genuine lo-fi fans will like it though, just because they know it's Blur."


"I think clinical bum notes are a bit annoying," states an irritated Russell.


"I definitely think they're more radical than most pop groups," announces Tjinder. "I just wish they'd experimented a bit more."


"Maybe they should take more psychedelic drugs," states Russell, "then they might get rid of all that Cockney bollocks forever."


What marks do you give it out of ten, then?


Jeff: "Six, I thought it was a bit contrived."


Ray: "I'm only disappointed with the songs that still sound like Blur. Can I give it six as well?"


Tjinder: "I'll give it a healthy eight. I think it's great, although I wouldn't listen to it personally."


Russell: "Can I give it two marks? For content, five out of ten, for style, originality and content absolutely f*** all."


Which makes a grand total of 25.


It's official then: Blur have not only gone lo-fi, but they've also gained the respect of their new comrades. Better still, all teenage girls now think they're complete rubbish - just the news Blur needed to complete their magical metamorphosis. If things carry on at this rate, they'll be playing to three fanzine writers and a stuffed zebra in south Nottingham before the year's out. And frankly it doesn't get more credible than that. Or grimy. Well done, Blur.