A raw, emotional edge is still poking from one of Blur’s best albums. 13 is an amalgamation of failed breaks of America, of coming to terms with addictions and ending relationships which had been running for years. Internally and externally, the four-piece were imploding. Damon Albarn had taken to heroin, Graham Coxon was struggling with alcoholism and Dave Rowntree was just about holding the band together. With Alex James’ well-documented decadence at play too, it is a genuine surprise that 13 turned out as well as it did. It is one of the band’s most striking works, effective because of what it provided each member in a cathartic sort of way. But their split was fuelled by those moments, the heartbreak inevitable as Think Tank roared through. And yet these angst-riddled moments, the genuine concerns of a private life spilling out, are to thank for their best works to date.
We can not only trace the brutal punches of The Ballad of Darren back to 13 but the 1999 release holds some of their frankest and boldest works. Coffee & TV feels like the obvious standout in an album filled with heavy hitters that tickle the emotional turmoil and openness of the post-Britpop phase. Each band of the times dealt with it in different ways and, for Blur, it was to use the excesses of their lives as a tool not just for the writing process but the instrumental angles. Choirs, gourds and just about anything else the four-piece could get their hands on was included. A reportedly strained relationship between the four does not help at the time, but it does provide us with the long-lasting insight made by those isolated songwriting moments. Coffee & TV remains one of the great songs in history, not least because Coxon is given free reign to do as he pleases with it.
But it contends with the likes of No Distance Left to Run and Tender, the latter also with Coxon on lyrical duties. Listen closely enough to Tender and you can hear the crashing waves, the complete peace which comes from being out of touch with the rest of the world. Agony and emotionally complex moments can be all-encompassing and can overtake what matters in life. Such is the case for 13, a microscopic album where those fraught moments begin piecing together a fractured, bigger picture. A spectacularly sad album, where Albarn fights for a love already lost on the opening track, lamenting the loss of Justine Frischmann from his life.
Never has a loss of love sounded this brutal. With Pulp or Suede, the agony comes from the encounter, not the lack of it. There is a want present, however imagined it may be, there is some piece of the puzzle for us to consider. With Tender, it is a constant reminder of there being nothing at all. No more shall they meet, and that reminder stings even now. Those personable tones needed a cold hand in the mix, hence William Orbit being trusted to cut through the muddiness and malaise of a band who had only recently diverted their sound. Those darker moments would become a mature new step for the band, a still refreshing and ultimately tearjerking experience which never fails to rouse a lump in the throat or a tear in the eye.
Much of that can be heard in The Ballad of Darren. It does not take watching Blur: To The End, and watching Albarn weep to a final mix of his efforts to know that. Much like Tender, ends are the means of a new start – but the middle-aged commentaries, where usually they would be a detriment – are horrific. There is nothing quite like the fear of starting fresh in the back end of life, and for Albarn, Coxon, Rowntree and James, there was both a liberating and ultimately chilling sense to The Ballad of Darren. Even at its darkest, 13 could be playful and instrumentally opportune. Not The Ballad of Darren. Something like St. Charles Square kicks on as a rough cut, an understanding of fucking up and a lack of reason to fix it. “What is the point,” appears to be the awkward question hanging over it. Albarn does well not to brush it up, he does not suggest knowing what the next step is.
Crucially, though, The Ballad of Darren was made in a safer environment. From both the documentary and James’ brief account of the sessions in his book, Over the Rainbow, there is a firmness to the group now which comes only through time. But by Rowntree’s admission at the time of the 13 recordings, the volatility of the group, while helpful, was taxing. “It was quite a sad process making it,” he said during the No Distance Left to Run documentary. “People were not turning up to the sessions, or turning up drunk, being abusive and storming off.” But that is key to this reunion too. Proof there was more to give. Doing so was tricky after the punk explosion of 13 and the sparse brilliance of Think Tank.
Their first reunion, even with The Magic Whip weighing heavy on the back end of the tour, feels more like a testing of the live waters. A sense of trying to figure out where Blur can stand when it comes to performing with one another. Their second reunion is possibly the band’s greatest achievement. It may stay as such unless they find some way to push themselves further, but where that comes from is impossible to know. It does not feel possible, not at this point. The Ballad of Darren is an act of reopening wounds the band were pretending not to notice. But when your arm is barely attached and the pit of your stomach has finally given way, the only thing left to do is approach it, however tenderly.
Instead of distorted, loud punches like Bugman from 13, the band took a different direction completely. A self-reflection. The Ballad of Darren is not so much ripping off a band-aid as it is complete and well-needed surgery. What occurred is life-saving music of sincerely massive importance. The Ballad of Darren is their best album. It is informed by choices in their past and a present desire, a bold one, to study those shortcomings. Certainly not perfect, but informed by their shaky past and managing not to implode is quite an achievement. The Ballad of Darren still stands firm, supplied well by the madness of 13 and, thankfully, the band sounds and seems to have learned from those fractious moments. They know not to blast one another with those problems, and if they do, they know to apologise. Look at how much they have grown since 13, and look at how it impacts The Ballad of Darren.
