Blur – This is a Low Review

A last-minute scrap of the song written as Damon Albarn feels the pressure of writing, the work Blur put into This is a Low is unlike anything they had done before. Their twee undertakings on Modern Life is Rubbish were hard to swallow but were backed by a creatively redefining moment for the band who had stepped out of the Madchester shadow. This is a Low is a cut above the catchy pop, the working class tourism that rubbed people the wrong way on Parklife. The hits are still credible, the highs of the title track or Girls and Boys, while plain, are such eventful and fundamentally brilliant earworms, that it is hard to think of anything better from their early years. This is a Low provides a glimpse into the darker side of Blur, the sound they would develop after The Great Escape. It is a rumble, but a side to Blur which would define their work in years to come. 

Albarn charts his relationship with England, something he would do with a tinge of novelty on the following album, well. Modern Life is Rubbish was an entertaining and relaxed origins story of how Blur were conceived, Parklife is the wider world encroaching on what it means to be British. It is easy to throw Blur under the bus as part of a deep clean of trivial British values, but there is an endearing, long-running quality to This is a Low. Alex James recalling the American tour where the band would listen to the shipping forecast for a taste of home. That is a homesickness which is heard on This is a Low, not for the values of the country they come from but for the relationship they have with specific places and faces. Blur takes stock of their at-the-time volatile rise up the charts with a low weather-inspired hum. 

This is a Low remains a beautifully delicate release because it provides ballast to the out-there, emotive explosions of Parklife. The bombastic shift in momentum for the band is contrast beautifully by This is a Low, one of their very best songs. Incredible instrumental work from the four-piece, particularly the layered solos from Graham Coxon, gives this piece an extra edge. Much of the subtlety to Albarn’s lyrics is lost when listening to the Parklife project. In isolation, there is a desperation to reconnect with a country lost to time and travel. “Radio says,” is a wonderful throwaway line from Albarn which transitions brilliantly into the main, emotive crux of the album, the elongations of the title track swelling with the overlapping guitar work from Coxon. It is as moving a song as the band ever managed to write. 

Blur proves themselves to be emotionally matured, as if that were not the case on previous album releases. This is the next step, though. A monumental turn in form for a band longing for home. Radio may feel like a strange spot of influence, but it has moved the band in many ways, particularly Dave Rowntree, whose debut album Radio Songs hinged on the act of tuning in entirely. An impassioned vocal performance from Albarn matches the dexterity, the depths of instrumental brilliance brought on by Coxon, Rowntree, and James. As complete a song as it gets, the group in tandem, hoping to head back to familiar soil sooner rather than later. Nothing short of tremendous, and one of Blur’s very best efforts.