Before we start, can we acknowledge that Damon Albarn must have had some kind of epiphany/breakdown when coming up with some of the music on his latest record The Nearer the Fountain, More Pure the Stream Flows? It has been suggested that this study on mortality, time, loss, remorse relates to the passing of his close friend Tony Allen. But in truth, no one, other than Albarn himself can know exactly how and why these songs came bursting out.
Albarn’s relationship with Iceland is a long one, he penned Song 2 there almost 25 years ago and he has dual citizenship, living as he does just outside of Reykjavik. So the one time Blur frontman is better placed than most to create an orchestral tribute to the remote majesty of his second home.
While on record The Nearer The Fountain can be an uncomfortable listen, experiencing it live can draw you in but it is just as unsettling. Telling Reykjavik’s Grapevine back in 2019 Damon said of his sprawling project “Once you take it out of the moment and the environment... immediately it becomes very abstract”, and this is very true, especially with the interludes that intertwine between pieces. This is Albarn’s journey and we are along for the ride.
One person’s experience is hardly Universal (no pun intended) and as the first few introductory bars started up, those hoping for the poppier Albarn were audibly left frustrated. Perhaps they would have been advised to pre-read what the performance was about and what it meant rather than jumping in on a star booking.
Taking to the stage in jacket, jeans, Elton rimmed glasses and some natty Nike Airforce One’s there is not a shred of arrogance about one of the most successful UK performers of the past 35 years. Humble, shy and assuming, Albarn shrugs and waves as he shuffles to his seat.
As soon as Damon’s voice filled the hall on the title track, however, decades of reminiscing came flooding back. It is easy to forget just how good a singer Albarn was and is, too often are his vocals consigned to the times and marketing bollocks of indie and Britpop. It is also easy to willfully ignore the opera Albarn has written, soon there is to be a ballet...The Cormorant steers close to some of The Good, The Bad & The Queen, with roiling percussion and lilting guitar licks, and reveals some personal lyrics “I now drift, daydreaming, to when we were happy here on this beach,” he sings. “We played with our children and they were happy, too.”
Joined on stage by Simon Tong of indie legends Verve, bassist Seye Adelekan, keyboardist Mike Smith, drummer Seb Rochford and the string quartet Demon Strings, Damon Albarn remained seated at his piano...save for a moment where he took on the role of a volcano by way of a very long horn (the name of which I do not know) and proceeded to blast the first few rows of the audience with brass.
It takes until nominal single Royal Morning Blue to loosen some of the stiffer necked audience members, with the track having a more traditional way round verse and chorus and any time the slinky limbed Adelekan started to groove, you knew a hook was coming. But even this is deceptively lighthearted, given its theme relates to global crisis and the impending end of the planet.
Combustion sees piano riffs fight to get atop of Sax trills, and underneath a Ray Davies tribute bubbles away. On Daft Wader Albarn calls up images of blackened skies and blacker sands. Interlude Windstorm fades to introduce Darkness to Light and there are moments when the audience is unsure if they should engage and clap in time, often opting for hushed whoops and gentle applause. It brings a smile to our guide’s face as the band repeat a few bars to allow the punters time to catch on.
By the time Polaris’ extended jive kicks in (with, it must be said, some tremendous drumming from Rochford) there is a sense that some rugs could be cut.
There were kids as young as six in the audience, a wonderful thing to see....the cross-generational themes and hopping of genres perfectly displaying just how talented Damon Albarn is as a musician, up there with the UK’s (and Iceland’s) very best.
Finishing with the very apt and strangely timeless, Out Of Time (from the 2003 blur record Think Tank) your reviewer was asked to ‘kindly stop singing’ by his wife, such was the sudden shock of hearing this wonderful song live, 10 feet from its creator. I could not help hoping for him to kick into the Stooges-like Crazy Beat, but this was a night for a shared experience not for a blur purist.
The band urged patrons to get to their feet, Damon then left the stage with his fellow musicians to rapturous applause.
With a flash of that cheeky grin, he was gone.
We hope, not for long.
Whatever Albarn does next it is sure to be interesting and challenging and in the days of throwaway copy paste autotune, what more can we ask for?
