Figuring out what went wrong for Gorillaz is to imply there is a problem with their process. Damon Albarn sensed a need for big-name collaborations and picked the fruit while it was ripe. But recent efforts like Cracker Island and Song Machine Vol. 1 feel rotten and dependent on the names rather than the musical interplay which comes from seeking the right person or group to work with. It is the equivalent of Trevor Horn enlisting his friends to record covers of songs not particularly relevant to his line of work or core audience – which is what he did for Echoes: Ancient & Modern. Step back into the early 2000s with Gorillaz, their self-titled effort walks the line of collaboration and consistent originals with a striking confidence. Not everyone can get Odetta Gordon and Tina Weymouth to feel like essential additions to a virtual band project – yet here it is, in working order.
Gorillaz can be hailed for its hits and deeper cuts in equal measure, but the perspective of collaboration is most alluring considering it is now what Gorillaz is known for and, on a detractive level, mocked for. It feels a tad ironic to see Gorillaz, formed out of an MTV rut and a distaste for the frivolity of it, turn into what it once hit out against. There is a sense of independence to the first record which slips away to the higher profile – or even any profile – of collaboration. It is all about being on the same page, as the virtual group is for lead singles Clint Eastwood and 19-2000. The latter Weymouth collaboration does not make a featured showcase of it – but it was back when Albarn had an active, roaring stock as a name value.
All of it feels past tense. There was a sense of whirring originality to Gorillaz which has since been lost as the band’s image tried to catch up to the times, rather than the times spluttering on the dust of Tomorrow Comes Today or Double Bass. These are roaring tracks; exceptional pieces and two Del the Funky Homosapien on Rock House marks a wonderful addition. But it is all back to the name value trouble for Gorillaz, which feels like a warm buzz of interest here, and an inevitable attempt at notoriety in later Elton John collaborations. Still, the collaborations here are of notability for what they provide not who they are. Half of Talking Heads, half of Blur, Kid Koala on turntables and some spot checks from Del the Funky Homosapien and Ibrahim Ferrer all offer something wonderful. It happened less in future, and rarely now, but it may be that Gorillaz lost their edge.
Enjoy the glory days then, of a time when Albarn and Jamie Hewlett were aggrieved, desperate for something to do and moved by a new beat. It brings in elements of just about everything, from spaghetti western soundtracks to lo-fi essentialisms and all the wonders of trip-hop crashing headfirst into punk rock. Throw whatever label you like at Gorillaz, the fact is it is an essential bit of kit and relies on exceptional songs like Latin Simone and New Genious. These were the glory days for the band – where their glitzy new image was not interesting only for its novelty but for its heart, something which appears to have been lost two decades later.
