A time of change can be heard on Popscene. Blur were maturing at rapid pace after their solid, Madchester-themed debut, Leisure. Where their interests began moving toward the twee and terrifying subjects of the country they lived in, what was gained was a sense of perspective. On the road and off to every corner of the United Kingdom in support of the album, a backlog of material written on the road led to more than a few gems. Popscene feels like one of the earliest splashes of Blur at their best. Or at their most popular sound, anyway. A pre-Parklife piece which, even now, does well to cement the style of the band and what they always stood for. Popscene remains fun; that was the sincere and only route for some Blur songs, and it shows well enough on this release.
Hopes of another world are preceded by some sharp brass pops, these roaring riffs which bring about the high-tempo thrill Modern Life is Rubbish would so consistently offer. A song which has gotten better as the band has aged, particularly when Damon Albarn and Graham Coxon are thrashing around the stage. Their recent reunion tour, the performance of Popscene at their live shows in 2023, remains a highlight. As does Popscene from the studio, a shining moment from the Modern Life is Rubbish experience. But the song itself could not have released at a worse time for the band, who were in debt and revealed very little of the earnestness which prevailed in the genre at the time, thanks to the likes of Suede, Pulp, and Saint Etienne. There was not yet an appetite for the lad culture Blur would soon be saddled with, even though their sound is far from the pub-guzzling experience. Parklife would put that to rights.
To see Popscene as the same working-class cosplay as, say, catchy riffs like Parklife, is a misrepresentation of the song at hand. Popscene relies on those roaring instrumentals, the frenetic energy which is as close to adapting the dreamlike hopes of the future which last through the song. B-side efforts like Mace and Badgeman Brown have been forgotten, and inevitably so. From the Alex James-led bass opener of Mace to its relatively uninspired storytelling, the bicycle ride to telephone calls and isolation in the idyllic landscape, it is binary opposites at work with little else to offer. Nice enough, but a shot of that twee energy the band would become reliant on, and alienated by, over their next three releases. The expectation of B-sides is low, and Blur often delivers on a relatively tame throwaway.
Badgeman Brown is another of the instrumentally piqued Blur sound but a lyrical write-off from Albarn. Nice enough production, with the megaphone style making sense given the picture Albarn paints of a person screaming from the hills of their isolation in idyllic lands. That much is nice, and it softens the rather predictable storytelling blow Badgeman Brown has. It soon becomes a nice traipse through a gentler side of Blur, which would come to light on Tender or No Distance Left to Run. They always had it in them, they just needed a real experience to back it. Badgeman Brown and Mace are tracks to keep a tab on, once you have expired the mainstream options. Once Girls and Boys or Country House has lost your interest, however briefly. Popscene is a sleeper hit for Blur, a triple-bill of solid songs which, given the context of Modern Life is Rubbish, all begin to sound like the strongest parts of the album and its meaning.
