Blur – I Broadcast Review

One of the many problems The Magic Whip still suffers from is its lighter sound. There is no way of affecting that now unless we capture each Blur member with some net or cheese-based trap and throw them back into the studio. A tenth anniversary celebrated by a limited print run of a zoetrope hardly gives the release what it deserves. Wilted flowers, if it were to receive any, and at this point, there is no reason to. I Broadcast highlights the reason why it is not entirely worth hailing the penultimate Blur album (at time of writing, though a follow-up to The Ballad of Darren is unlikely). It barely sounds like the four-piece are on the same page and what begins as noodling in the studio with new tech while the group were laying low following a festival cancellation ends as noodling also. A very tame release, despite what those tech-sounding thrills would suggest.  

Their “love for the aspects of another city” never develops further than saying what they see. A song about holidaying and being in another location, outstanding to you but natural to others. This is a very real phenomenon. On a two-week holiday to Iceland, it is fascinating how ordinary the natural world and its beauty can be. Beautiful mountain formations, truly breathtaking scenery, and yet there are still knock-off Irish pubs. Aesthetically pleasing knock-off Irish pubs at that, and weather which will kill you if you stop off to take a picture of a bridge which leads to nowhere in the Vik area. A beautiful place, and the sense of energy which comes from being in those unknown spots is what I Broadcast tries to capture. But it does so in a way which appreciates not the wonders of creation or the luck of being able to rent out a studio and perform, aimlessly, with friends, but the cold sores which come with travel.  

Damon Albarn writes with a limited energy here, though his performance is filled with the spontaneity which has seen him take to the Glastonbury Festival stage time and again, be it with Blur, Gorillaz, or a cameo with Bombay Bicycle Club. It is his work with the animated characters which comes to life here, not the jingoism-turned-introspective band which would mark some of the very best songs Albarn, or anyone, for that matter, has managed to write on drugs, imposter syndrome, and love. To hear all that fall away, to see out the alternative, is to encourage the roaring tones found on I Broadcast. They feel more like Albarn-led creations than moments which incorporate Graham Coxon, Alex James, and Dave Rowntree.  

Coxon is heard best of all out of the three sidelined Blur members, his guitar a consistently unforgettable part of every project, bar this. I Broadcast is a solid read on The Magic Whip as a whole, a charming if underwhelming album which felt overwhelmed by the aesthetic choices the band had made. The suddenness of their creativity was captured, but at what cost? I Broadcast may have the electrified sound of an experimental Blur, but it does not have the good faith or honesty the band would incorporate on their moving best. Even when the band is not set to tug at the heart or hurt the head, there is a relatively enjoyable flow to their sound which is lacking on I Broadcast, either because the Gorillaz-like production has taken hold, or because kicking around for a few days does not unveil much necessary commentary from the band.