Blur – For Tomorrow Review

We have grunge to thank and blame for the trajectory Blur would take on Modern Life is Rubbish. Detesting their time Stateside led to a hunkering down of a strange nationalism-like feel. A twee and Kinks-like period which departs from the general indie moves of Leisure. In hindsight, it was a masterstroke from Damon Albarn, who wrote his way into the cultural appeal of the time, but at the time, and even now, it lingers as a strange and faux appropriation of a country which paid the band no favours. Play it up until you make it big. Fighter planes from the Second World War, the instructions to bring about a Mott the Hoople feel and flirtations with Jeff Lynne as a potential producer give a clear insight into where Blur found themselves with For Tomorrow.  

What could have been a nationalist disaster became a chance for Blur to explore imagery which compounded a post-war pride but had nothing to do with the works they delivered. Jolly and wistful sounds crash into the general sense of displacement in the at-the-time modern world. Clicking the TV on and off, the routine of life and food and all its tendrils becomes a tiresome experience. For Tomorrow captures this and sets itself apart from the tone The Kinks set, which set out on a similar cultural identity crisis with Village Green Preservation Society. Those feelings are not lost on Blur. For Tomorrow is filled with the sort of adrenalin and volatility expected of theme parks and haunted houses but produces sickening thrills as part of the everyday. The Visit to Primrose Hill extended version adds a desperately needed depth. Room to grow and think on the horrors of the day-to-day experience, which linger now as much as they did back in 1993.  

B-sides galore mean For Tomorrow has a few extra legs amid its instrumental surge on the title track. Peach is a fascinating deep cut from the Blur catalogue. A slight layer of sleaze washes over this one, amplified by the smooth guitar work Graham Coxon provides. Guns in pockets, holes in heads and all set to the backdrop of those same steam-filled skies. Violence in the face of nature. It marks quite the contrast for Blur at this point, and a drifting bit of electric guitar underlines it all. Bone Bag follows a similar theme to Peach. There is a jolly core to these three tracks undermined by the sickness, the violence and the nicotine stains which prevent the joys of countryside living.  

Blur may have been a band playing up the imagery of a freed and nostalgic style of life but their bitterness towards the change comes with a comment on the malaise of the modern world. It still rests as relevant. We may turn to the countryside and the bright nights of summer but they all collapse in on themselves eventually. Those haunted tones on Bone Bag make note of this. We are tourists in optimism, and convincing ourselves this is a permanent residence is a bold yet foolish endeavour. Albarn and company toy with the nationalism of the times and find a deep discontent for themselves and their listeners. It would be amplified on Modern Life is Rubbish, and set them on track for a trilogy of slights against popular culture and what little remains of the nation’s history.