Gorillaz’ self-titled debut along with the Marshall Mathers LP was the first record that I ever bought for myself; well technically my father bought both of them for me at age eleven for good performance in school, but they were mine, not just his borrowed Springsteen tapes. I was really enamored with Gorillaz at the time. I stayed up months prior to the release of the album to watch the twelve o’ clock Toonami special that played (exclusively) the first four music videos from Daft Punk’s Discovery and also four music videos from Gorillaz. I had previously seen the video for “Clint Eastwood” on MTV, staying up late with my father and refusing to go to bed until it came on. I loved their gimmick – even though it seemed derivative of Daft Punk’s idea – but more importantly I loved their music. I used to go around my private school asking all the Hip-Hop listening-Jew kids if they “heard of Gorillaz…” I never got a “yes.”
Gorillaz wasn’t super good or anything, but it was a real eclectic mix of music. It reminded me a lot of when some of my favorite British bands decided to go outside the realm of rock: so basically London Calling and Sandinista! by The Clash were my frames of reference. I also really dug the whole ‘virtual-band’ concept. Gorillaz weren’t just a band, they were characters: 2D, the singer, had this real interesting heroin chic thing going on, whereas Murdoc was a pervy bassist, and a funny one at that. Noodle was the odd token Asian, sporting some BAD headphones (in a good way), and Russel was the drummer who drove himself into fits of demonic epilepsy which evoked the Funkee Homosapien. Okay, I was eleven and way too into the fiction for these characters, but it was fun…and more importantly it was entertaining. Almost ten years have passed since I first heard “Clint Eastwood,” and now we’re moving on to the latest Gorillaz release, Plastic Beach: the album where Damon finally seems to push Gorillaz’ music past the ‘merely interesting, at times great’ phase that it was stuck in.
Supposedly a concept album about an island of sterile futurism,
Plastic Beach continues the Gorillaz ‘trend’ of being very different and varied. When I first checked out the track listing I was a tad concerned at the eccentric list of people Damon Albarn had decided to collaborate with; I’m pretty sure that this is the first time that Lou Reed and Snoop Dogg have ever been featured on the same album, but I may be wrong about that. Mick Jones and Paul Simonon (FUCK YEAH! THE CLASH!) stop by to play on the title track; an Indie-Pop band by the name of Little Dragon contributes some vocals; Bobby Womack gives some preacher-esque R&B vocals on “Stylo,” and Mos Def chills around with a Lebanese Orchestra in the backroom with De La Soul and some British rappers smoking a cigarette. Does this all sound a bit much? Well it is. The amount of featured artists is very mixtape-y, but if anything it’s a great foreshadow to the usual Gorillaz shtick: you are going to hear a lot of varied and
different music on this record, so prepare yourself. And by different, I mean Damon’s idea of combining genre after genre together until you’re left with a (nice) mess that can only be called Gorillaz.
As for the music itself, most of it is great. The Hip-Hop focused tracks have this great little quirkiness to them without being lame (
“Superfast Jellyfish”); and the typical Gorillaz production give these tracks a familiar yet-unfamiliar-at-the-same-time feel. Some of the guest spots stand out a bit more than others, such as the aforementioned Indie-Pop group, Little Dragon, who are easily the best featured arist on the record (
“To Binge” and “Empire Ants”); but let’s give it up to Mick Jones and Paul Simonon for still being able to play, and play damn good
(“Plastic Beach”). While some are brilliant, a few of the guest spots feel out of place and tedious. Lou Reed’s almost-seventy year-old somber vocal worked OK on
“Tranquilize” with The Killers, but on
“Some Kind of Nature” he just isn’t beneficial to the distorted Jazz-club sounding backing that Damon gave him (but we love ya Lou). Snoop Dogg on the intro is a bit odd, but at least the production in the background is interesting enough to make you pretty much forget that he’s there.
The only song that I really dislike on
Plastic Beach is
“Glitter Freeze,” which pretty much sounds like
“Uprising” by Muse (YUCK) but without the vocals. As for the rest of the record, Damon Albarn has obviously been paying attention to a lot of recent Indie music. More importantly, the artists who ‘bend’ genre. You can hear some of the experimental elements of Dirty Projectors; the theatric apocalypse tones of St. Vincent; and even the recent wave of minimalist electronica ala Beirut’s
“My Night with the Prostitute from Marseille,” in the song
“On Melancholy Hill,” a fantastic track which is easily one of the best songs of the year.
“To Binge” has this great little ‘The xx’ kind of dialogue going on with Albarn and the singer from Little Dragon, and even though I haven’t, the vocal arrangement just sounds like something I’ve heard before (good thing).
“On Melancholy Hill” is definitely
Plastic Beach’s shining moment: minimalism along with some synths that sound like they themselves somehow managed to grow ears and listen to New Order and The Cure (like a happy but still grim kind of thing), while Albarn (actually singing AND SINGING WELL!) does this great little background harmony in addition to his usual ‘through-a-telephone’ distorted vocal. When I first listened to it, I thought,
“please let this melody continue how I think it will,” and thankfully it did. While some may feel the track is predictable, it is only in the sense that you’d wish it had been made earlier. It’s like one of those ultra-catchy songs that you’re amazed no one had come up with yet. For a song like this to be on a Gorillaz record, I’m floored.
Bruce's Score: 8.5/10 What to download: I'd listen to the whole album since it's really varied, except for "Glitter Freeze," but here are my favorites. 1. On Melancholy Hill 2. To Binge 3. Superfast Jellyfish 4. Empire Ants 5. Broken