In the midst of the ongoing pandemic (a sentence I never expected to write), I’ve been rediscovering – and indeed discovering for the first time – some essential albums, finding solace in music and taking the time to explore albums I’d never given enough attention.
Demon Days by Gorillaz seems an appropriate place to start – both because it was the album which started this “project” (as it were) and because perhaps these are, indeed, our demon days.
The risk with writing about great albums, many of which are already widely acknowledged as such, is that in truth there is nothing new I can say about them. My plan for ignoring this problem is to take my inspiration from an ostrich and ignore it entirely (just as people who write about ostriches burying their heads in the sand are ignoring the fact that this is a mischaracterisation of their behaviour, or at least of the purpose for it. How ironic). I’m also going to do very little research beyond looking up the lyrics, so there’s a good chance that my interpretations will be wildly off-base. Que sera sera.
The album opens with the imaginatively titled Intro, a grungy-sounding track reminiscent of the classic Xbox game Jet Set Radio Future, replete with siren effects. In my mind, this establishes the scenery of the album firmly as a moderately dystopian city: set in the near future, a place slightly unsettling and uncanny. It’s a feeling not unlike heading outside during lockdown – familiar streets, but somehow different – empty, dead, soulless.
The album then moves to Last Living Souls, one of my favourite tracks. It introduces the main character, with his optimistic outlook but rooted firmly in the context of this unfriendly atmosphere, the rise-and-fall drone of the synths creating a layer of friendly texture onto which the listener can latch despite the uninviting metronomic and distorted backdrop. And not to labour the point, but the idea of being the last living souls is, again, very fitting for this lockdown environment.
But my intention isn’t to provide a blow-by-blow of each track. Apart from anything, there are fifteen tracks on the album, and that would be a far longer blog post than I want. To me, though, there are a few highlights. Last Living Souls is one such highlight, as is Dirty Harry, whose two-bar riff is impossibly catchy – and the moment 47 seconds in, when this riff is taken over by a slightly distorted synth with heavy reverb, is one of the most satisfying moments of the album. And few points compare to the sense of unease introduced by the use of strings at 1:57. And I must, of course, make mention of the iconic Feel Good Inc., perhaps the catchiest song on the album and certainly its standout track in terms of cultural success.
Every Planet We Reach Is Dead, again, makes hugely effective use of synths and distortion to highlight the sense of unease – yet the protaganist, again, draws us out of this and provides a contrast, grounding us. The use of choral backing vocals and a clean bass backdrop emphasises this: the neatness of the vocal verses provides moments of clarity in an otherwise muddy and overwhelming sound. This is the beginning of the escape: leaving the dystopian city of the album’s beginning, and seeing sunlight peeking through the clouds, with increasing prominence. Freedom beckons.
DARE reflects a combination of the two sounds – no longer competing for prominence, but operating in conjunction, with smooth and choral vocals melding with the distorted synths which, ’til now, have felt unfriendly. The protaganist is beginning to find his freedom, and in doing so, is beginning to find his peace with the environment he escapes.
Of course, no freedom is without cost. Fire Coming out of the Monkey’s Head tells of how the happy folk living below the mountain were destroyed by an invasion from outside. Did our protaganist bring about this destruction with his escape? Did he lead the outsiders to the village of the happy folk? Of course, the happy folk were only happy because of their blindness. Ignorance is bliss, but it is also fragile. An ostrich leaves its neck exposed.
Yet the album ends on an optimistic note. In the titular track, the listener finally gains a sense of freedom, of release from the clouds. Whether this is because the protaganist has successfully escaped, or because the monkey has simply taken matters into its own hands and destroyed the humans which were causing the clouds, is hard to tell. But the progression throughout the album from claustrophobia to freedom is quite remarkable, and in times of lockdown, when we’re trying to make sure that our homes are nests and not cages, this grungy, unfriendly album can become strangely comforting.
This review is hot