‘Think Tank’ - A Blur Album with Gorillaz’ DNA?

The Three Legged Blur

Now - this seems like an obvious title - Damon Albarn is Gorillaz as much as he is Blur. However, as a fan of both bands (and Albarn’s solo contributions), I can’t help but think that ‘Think Tank’ is written with the D.N.A of a Gorillaz album more than any of the previous works by Blur.

To backtrack a little, ‘Think Tank’ is probably the most controversial Blur album. At the time, it released with the longest gap between any of the band’s discography, Gorillaz had released and toured their debut album, and guitarist Graham Coxon is absent for about 95% of the album due to rehab. On top of that, the album features guitar from a member of the Verve, has elements of world music and dance, and has tracks produced by Fatboy Slim/Norman Cook. All in all, I think the D.N.A of this album reflects an identity closer to Gorillaz than Blur - it’s almost as though it’s a Gorillaz album recorded by Blur. Beyond that, my mention of controversy stems from the fact the album is complete with select career highs, but also career lows. Really - this is Blur releasing an album past the millennium, after the rush of the Britpop era, and now in an age where electronic music and boy bands were beginning to become the focus of the popular music scene.

Regardless, it’s an album I think many few people are aware of - even Blur fans, but that is worth a listen for its own content, as well as an insight into Damon Albarn’s slow transition into new songwriting territories that would bloom across future Gorillaz albums.

‘Born out of Love’

The album’s opening track, ‘Ambulance’ instantly sets the tone for the album being a work that is different to any Blur album that precedes it. I mentioned the change of music scene, but of course it’s undeniable that the album was recorded during the shared anxiety of the September 11 attacks and the emerging war on terror.

The song starts with a mechanical drumbeat, dub-style bass guitar, and guitars that are more reverb return than actual guitar signal. Before long, Albarn’s unsteady falsetto comes in ‘I ain’t got nothing to be scared of, no’ before being raised by a synth over the line: ‘I love you’.

Contrary to its lyrical matter, the song is tense - ridden with anxiety, and reflects a sense of panic and disassociation from any kind of musical ‘space’. The use of reverb is cavernous, and guitars, synthesisers, and percussion all swirl continuously around Albarn’s upfront, reflective vocal.

Really, there’s very few lyrics, but that’s part of the track’s strength. Beyond the repeating lyrics, Albarn switches from falsetto into a more defiant, low register and seems to take hold as the authoritative voice amidst the sonic chaos. The song is very un-Blur, harking back (at most) to B-Side ‘Music is my Radar’ (1999). Ultimately, it feels like a phone call, asking for connection, in the backdrop of an anxious, technological world.

‘Out of Time’

Building from Ambulance, ‘Out of Time’ takes the album to its next moment of strength. Praised by Bowie as one of Blur’s great achievements, ‘Out of Time’ introduces Albarn’s movement away from more personal, comedic, or narrator subject matters, and into a wider, reflective writing style.

The opening line, ‘Where’s the love song to set us free?’, suggests the need for a love song as an antidote to chaos, but also chooses to avoid taking on that identity. I think it marks a definite change in Albarn’s approach to writing, a more serious tone - that is, a song that feels as though its addressed to a child, or Coxon, or the world. Albarn’s fear of a world ‘spinning gently out of time’ concocts the new fears and anxieties that surround the threat of broken peace.

Unlike the deconstructed, tense, arrangement of ‘Ambulance’, ‘Out of Time’ runs at a steady and simple pace - leaving emphasis on its lyrical content. At most, the song’s bridge is briefly taken to new heights by a Moroccan orchestra.

Again - mournful, there is a sense of Albarn wanting to connect to both Coxon’s absence, and a disconnected world.

The bad…

In contrast, the bombastic ‘single’ of ‘Crazy Beat’ (produced by Norman Cook) is, for me, an unwelcome gear shift in the album’s tone. It comes across as a club parallel to ‘Song 2’, but without the raw, barbaric satisfaction of that hit. It’s where, I think the sense of a ‘new Blur’, gets a little murky - it’s a song I can easily skip without much trouble. It’s somewhat catchy, but it lacks an elegance.

The same - could be said, for ‘We’ve Got a File on You’ - objectively, not so bad, but again a high energy track that doesn’t seem to find its place on the album after a few listens… it seems like an unnecessary contrast to some of the deeper cuts that grow on repeat listens.

‘Good Song / Sweet Song’

Mentally, I can hear both of these songs separately, but I always get the names mixed up. Anyways, that isn’t so important.

I point these out, because they lack the wider anxieties of the album’s openers but instead are worth praise for their relocation into more direct, love-centric themes.

‘Good Song’ again, reflects Gorillaz DNA, built off an acoustic loop with a steady lo-fi drum groove. I notice that Albarn’s choice of melancholy, amidst a song that sounds upbeat, really keys into the new stage of his songwriting career that is found in most of Gorillaz’ discography. There’s a somewhat hilarious - but meaningful contrast between ‘I could be lying on an atom bomb’ and ‘you seem very beautiful to me’. There’s an absurdity to the contrast that really captures the sincerity of love, as well as the comfort that arises from it. I suppose with that, the song is soothing for the anxious mind.

Similarly, ‘Sweet Song’, re-engages with a sincerity that is rarely found across the Blur discography, perhaps only with the exception of ‘No Distance Left to Run’. The song sounds like it’s still in the format of a 4-track demo, but in the best of ways. Addressed to Coxon, I believe, Albarn is at his most direct and sincere - evidently reflecting on the absence of his bandmate and the growing worries of his mind. It’s a beautiful song, capturing those moments where you try your hardest to get through to someone, but end up estranged.

The Meat and Potatoes … of the album.

Beyond the more intimate, or tense songs - there is of course a great deal of strong, rocking tracks - with new identities and sonic palettes that are previously absent from the Blur discography.

‘Brothers and Sisters’ showcases Alex James’ simple yet effective bass playing that underpins a fair deal of Blur’s music, often making their tracks somewhat danceable beyond the rock sensibilities of Coxon’s guitar playing - for me, the push and pull of Blur that makes them such a great band. With low whispering vocals, Albarn carries the song’s verses with a low-key energy before slowly building into choruses that are filled with wider background vocals and world-music elements. If you considered the instruments on the track, you might wonder how it would slot together, yet the blend of synthesisers, bass, rabab (African string instrument, I believe), and SFX makes for a surprisingly catchy listen.

Equally, ‘Moroccan Peoples Revolutionary Bowls Club’ (what a title!), offers a moment of upbeat light for the album. To my ear, it could be a Gorillaz track and I wouldn’t debate it. It’s full of sudden changes, with bright sparkly synthesisers, and a minimal breakdown that concludes the song, all of which suggest an album that has been more ‘curated’ or arranged in a studio than recorded by a band. I think that then, is perhaps what makes ‘Think Tank’ more Gorillaz than Blur - the approach to recording the album was built around experimentation and arrangement, than simply walking into a studio and layering parts together until an album emerges…

The best demonstration of this looped, collage-style approach is the track ‘Jets’. No sections seems to be the same, but the entirety of the song is underpinned by the same plodding emphasis, whether that be from drums, bass, or the screwball guitar that pervades the intro. It’s what I would consider a ‘building song’ in that it just goes from one sonic territory to another, on a journey, until it seems to call it a day. I say that… until really a strange freeform sax solo takes over for the final two minutes - one which some may consider grating on further listens.

The Hidden Re-Appearance of Phil Daniels (Parklife!)

OK - maybe the best track is actually the hidden track at the end, sort of… well, it’s catchy.

The album ends with Coxon’s one contribution - ‘Battery in your Leg’, a mournful track that seems to pull behind the beat, trudging along amidst abrasive guitar lines. It harks back to vintage Blur, but with a sense of a bygone energy.

At the same time, there is a bonus track attached to the end of this song - after a few minutes break. You see, this is the CD age of course… so why not add a strange bonus track to the spare data space on the compact disc!?

Anyways - this hidden track, ‘Me White Noise’ is a strange but delightful dance track that features the return of Phil Daniels (formerly on Parklife) as he narrates a confused (drunken?) dialogue on British identity, oddball conversations, and a fair few shouted choruses. It’s really strange, but there’s something quite catchy about the whole experience - it’s like being in a club but somehow stuck with the political commentary of a pub regular.

Worth a listen?

I’d say so - I mean, I’ve gone on about this album so it holds some significance. It’s a definite oddity in the Blur discography but in doing so, somehow showcases the evolution of Albarn’s songwriting into more serious, weighty depths, and at the same time a bunch of bombastic dance tunes that seem antithetical to Blur’s sonic identity.

Oh, and the deluxe edition is pretty good - check out the B-Sides ‘The Outsider’, ‘Don’t Be’, and ‘Morricone’.

Yes - Banksy did the cover art. Cool huh… or maybe not with recent news… alas!