Blur
Plymouth Pavilions
Tuesday, August 7
Review by Lee Trewhela
Any fears that Blur's return to the Pavilions after 21 years would be a mere hit factory retro fest were put to rest in a coruscating, marathon 27-song set, which though heavy with those generation-defining gems also harboured their dirty, noisy cousins.
Fundamentally a warm-up gig for their closing Olympics appearance in Hyde Park on Sunday, this sauna hot show was far from a rehearsal.
The crowd – those who'd sown their wild oats when Parklife was released joining those who hadn't even been sown – erupted as the familiar electro throb of Girls & Boys powered up a four-song opener from that career-defining album. The robot funk of London Loves was quickly followed by the terrace thrash-alongs of Tracy Jacks and Jubilee.
In surprisingly good nick for four men approaching their mid-forties (a lot more appealing than the reconstituted Stone Roses and their Child Snatcher lookalike John Squire), Blur then played the first of their melancholia-with-feedback moments – Beetlebum; like many of their songs post-1997, a junkie-hazed mixed metaphor for love and hard drugs. In hindsight, a very strange song to get to No 1. Graham Coxon, proving again and again tonight what a hugely original and underrated guitarist he is, adding layers of sound to a truly levitating end section.
Though Damn Albarn's the star and responsible for the majority of the songs, Graham took to the mic for his own duffed-up indie classic, Coffee & TV, before playing on a song he wasn't even around for in 2003, the meditative Out Of Time complete with oud player Khyam Allami.
The run of singles gave way to one for the hardcore fan, early B-side Young & Lovely, with gap-toothed Damon doing his best Lahndan croon on what could be a Ziggy Stardust outtake (there's a lot of Bowie in Blur as there is Jam, Wire and Ants).
Though they were a refreshing antidote to Nirvana and co, there is no little nod to the grunge years in the thrilling mountain of riffing that is Trimm Trabb, a song that sounds all-knowing but is actually about trainers.
Knowing exactly which side their bread's buttered, Blur cherrypicked heavily from their two peaks – seven from Parklife and six from the more quietly groundbreaking 13, with an amorphous Caramel proving a highlight from the latter, Damon urging the backing singers on to higher things.
Then it was the braces-out knees-up of Sunday Sunday, Country House (with Graham doing his best to wipe its knowing pop smile away) and Parklife sans Phil Daniels. They all sound a bit silly now but thrilling nonetheless.
With a similar set to the other tour dates in Wolverhampton and Margate, Plymouth got its one unique "treat", Bugman, arguably the noisiest, most freeform song in their canon. Bit of a mess really and I would have preferred Oily Water from two nights before but you can't have everything.
New song The Puritan, with bouncy Alex James proving ever reliable on bass, ushered in a spiky selection including megaphoned Advert and a powerhouse blast of Song 2. The only thing I remember from their last appearance at the Pavilions in 1991 alongside Dinosaur Jr, My Bloody Valentine and the Jesus and Mary Chain (spot the odd one out, as Damon said) was a forceful Popscene. It was back again tonight, complete with brass section, proving it's the great lost single in Blur's back catalogue and the song that signalled they were much more than floppy-fringed indie kids.
The greatness of Blur is their ability to meld the feisty and ******* with some of the most beautiful pop songs of the last 20 years. And so it was that this pogoing onslaught was followed by the heartbreaking No Distance Left To Run, a truly magnificent Tender (with the crowd refusing to give up the gospel vocals once it finished, leading to a melodica-led jam) and a stirring This Is A Low, dedicated to Devon, a county which Damon has called home for the last 17 years.
The one nod to debut album Leisure came with encore opener Sing, a miasma of sound and longing, which proves they had moments of grandeur even then – and also proves drummer Dave Rowntree is their secret weapon.
The gorgeous new Under The Westway, despite sounding like it should be a Christmas song with its gentle bombast, surely points to a bright new resurrection? Proving they always had a sense of humour missing from their po-faced peers (Oasis, Suede anyone?), they then launched into the music hall parody of Modern Life Is Rubbish's Intermission.
Three huge singalongs ended the evening – End Of A Century, For Tomorrow and a majestic The Universal.
Albarn left the stage promising it won't be another 20 years before they return to the venue. We can only hope.
