Blur – Live at the Budokan Review

Only the greats are big in Japan. Peter Frampton whacked a live album out of the place, and so too has Bob Dylan – more recently that is. Well, as recent as it gets for remastering archive tapes. Take a trip back with Blur, then, whose recent reunion has surely triggered a deep dive from many of their long-faithful fans. Finding live records up to scratch with the regular discography proves troublesome for certain bands and Blur, as much as they are easy to love, is a tricky one to nail down. Hearing them live at Wembley and Newcastle was certainly an experience – the lack of polish on some tracks dirtied up by the live performance and the change from Damon Albarn’s vocal range is a net positive, though something like Live at the Budokan, without the rush and lights and punch to the mouth during Coffee and TV, is a difficult recommendation. 

Lesser versions of excellent tracks is what a live performance so often brings, bar Maggie’s Farm from this very venue decades prior to the release of this live performance. But this is right at the height of Blur, when the Britpop fever, something the band has never truly admonished or burnt down like their peers, was in effect. The Great Escape puts this into context, an opener with a Brit-heavy stereotype. It is their Country House era, though. Doubled up with an “’ello ‘ello” from Albarn and a neat performance of Jubilee, dependent on Graham Coxon on guitar as expected, cements this cheery Brit expectation. Eventually, inevitably, Live at the Budokan springs to life. End of a Century summons a neat uptick in form and it rides on through the rest of the record. Tracy Jacks and To The End are nicely placed, early enough to enjoy them, late enough to make dipping into Parklife acceptable.  

Strong vocal work on It Could Be You does not disguise the throwaway lyrics of Likely Lads and Trafalgar Square. London-centric sightseeing put to another decent series of riffs and some solid, sturdy drumming from Dave Rowntree. A chilling but neutered Stereotypes is on hand to rescue some quality. A squeaky hinge produces the underscoring instrumentals for a rough Girls and Boys, but one of the finest Blur songs there is, a bouncy little tune which fits in with all their performances, is hard to pass up on after a deflated She’s So High. Hard it may be but give this karaoke disaster a mess.  

As it turns out, adding trumpets to the likes of For Tomorrow does little when the live performance is out of step with the absent audience. This may as well be a studio recording where the receptionist has had a spin on Girls and Boys. Such is the vagueness of Live at the Budokan – a rather empty spectacle which sees neither Blur nor dedicated audience members come off well. Eventually, the Live at the Budokan record reveals its true self. Pretty bang-average pieces which are released more to highlight Blur played the Budokan than anything else. An unremarkable performance and way off the mark for a band supposedly at the height of their powers at this period.