Death of a Party feels like an obvious title if we allow hindsight into our mind. It was the final note of a celebration which had run on too long. Britpop as a term has an ugly stench to it, an unshakeable feeling of overambition and political power plays in place of artistic merit. Make no mistake, the genre itself is a hodge-podge of artists that just happened to be around at the time. Suede and Blur and Pulp and Oasis. The big four of the so-called Britpop genre, crashed out and away from the typical sound of the times within a year of one another. Blur led the charge with their grunge-tinged, self-titled effort, where Death of a Party comes from. A single released more as a statement of intent than a suggestion of similar directions to preceding album The Great Escape.
Country House is no cultural tipping point, but the immediate impact is clear. Gone is the twee nature of life in the lane of luxury; in comes the cultural balance and effect of living with your hands firmly sewn to your wallet. Set the album version to one side for a moment. Give the acoustic version a play. A lesser-known rendition, granted, but one that feels like it gets to the core of the song with a new route, a sinister, carnival-like edge. That sound, the carnival feeling and theatrics, are featured in Blur’s work frequently. Compared to the original, the boom of grunge and electric thrill, this stripped-down occasion is haunting. Song 2 may have the carnal element, the freedom of rage, but Death of a Party is a far more nuanced and clear approach to the anxieties of the time. Damon Albarn and the band find themselves as yesterday’s news; the new move towards pop music left them in the dust and scrambling for some new creative route.
It was not that they were no longer relevant but seen as a part of history so soon after making it. Hanging on the shelf brings on a horrific image which would linger around the context of Blur’s music for the rest of their careers. It would crop up even further on 13, and it would form the basis of Think Tank and the instrumental experiments found there. Death of a Party in acoustic form is a masterful blowout of the anxieties and stresses of a new movement. Where is there to go when a peak has been perceived, has been reached, even. If it were not for the backing vocals and little acoustic flickers Graham Coxon adds, this would have been an ample solo work from Albarn. But he makes the most of his bandmates, even if it is just for brief moments.
What Blur still had at this stage was the communal spirit which had led them to form a band in the first place. There is still the overlap of hope; the desire to use darker experiences as the bed of their music was nothing new, but letting it affect the instrumentals was. If there were ever a sign of change in the air for Blur, then Death of a Party is the gust of wind to knock you off your feet. Give the acoustic listen a spin and hear just how dark it could have been. If anything, their self-titled album release is restrained in comparison, there is a lightness to the heavier instrumentals. With Death of a Party in this stripped-back form, Blur provides one of their darkest moments, in what precedes a permanent change to their sound. A welcome change, too.
