Continuing on with the formula that works best for Gorillaz, Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett piece together their most impressive collaboration since Plastic Beach. Not the highest bar, but a bar all the same. It blows out the experimental works of The Fall and the redundant collaborative fodder of Cracker Island and Song Machine: Volume One. The animated group, whose reliance on the featured artist tag and Albarn’s interest in tinkering with whatever instrument is nearest to hand, has finally come good again, as good as it was on Demon Days and the self-titled debut. Nostalgia is not the reason for favourable comparison, but it does linger on the mind when ex-Gorillaz collaborators who are no longer with us appear on The Mountain. Dennis Hopper and Mark E. Smith are nice names to see on an album, and it’s wonderful, too, that Albarn and Hewlett found a suitable spot for those leftover tapes. The Mountain comes together in that perfect storm atmosphere so necessary to the Gorillaz fundamentals.
Take the opening, title track, for instance. It’s a culmination not just of circumstantial influences on the pair during their time in India, but a process which many listeners at home may find comfort in. Grief expands; a fundamental shift is needed to counter it. In the case of Gorillaz, it means adapting that loss of closeness to the touching experience of travel, the satisfaction of new views and serenity in the face of devastating loss. That much is fodder for any artist, but moulding it as Gorillaz do here, that is quite a spectacle. The Mountain does not cast out the consistencies the Albarn and Hewlett project has built over the decades; if anything, it manages to solidify that tone and style with new instrumental thrills. The Moon Cave is a delight, nothing less. Much of The Mountain is built on a delicate plot, with Sparks-featuring The Happy Dictator highlighting this most of all. A mock propaganda, the world of fiction Albarn sings of giving him the opportunity to be the glint in the eye of listeners seeking guidance from someone whose words can be manipulated into new meaning.
Such is the point of all these featured artists, it’s a wild new experience at every turn, but the story is threaded well by Albarn and Hewlett. The Mountain has a simple core to it. Take the experiences of recent memory and spin it into little fables that link together; it’s the nuance and detail that bring it up to this tremendous standard. Albarn seems keen to take risks here, as he did with The Ballad of Darren, with some of the most emotionally focused and honed work Blur had offered. The same comes of The Mountain, with songs like The Hardest Thing and Orange County fitting together incredibly. Tearjerkers that earn their heartbreaking impact on a listener. Incredible performances from the likes of Bizarrap, Black Thought, and Paul Simonon are not just an impressive ensemble where Albarn can show off his musical interconnectivity, but his understanding of genres beyond his own work. He doesn’t get enough credit for that, and yet displays his genuine love for fresh ideas with Gorillaz consistently.
Songs like The Empty Dream Machine and The Plastic Guru are crucial examples of that emotional concept which guides The Mountain. The Empty Dream Machine may be one of Albarn’s very best songs, a vulnerable shock which comes out of the blue. But the uncomfortable truth of Gorillaz comes to life once more on The Mountain – the outfit works best with Albarn on lead vocal duties. There’s nice breaks from his work, but he’s capable of capturing an emotional volatility when backed by a wide range of musicians, rather than delegating to them. But such is the point of Gorillaz, an experience which is more and more feeling like a collective than a carefully protected project. Albarn is keen to curate, and The Mountain is the most successful example of that for him to date. From posthumous appearances which feel like worthy inclusions to the sharp writing style Albarn has brought to this round of Gorillaz songs, it’s hard to feel like The Mountain is anything but a borderline masterstroke. The likes of Delerium and Damascus reinvent what the collective stands for. How well timed it is for the twenty-fifth anniversary of the group to bring about one of its best albums.
I’d hardly call Elton John’s feature on Song Machine “redundant collaborative fodder”, but the Mountain really is something else – excited for the short film!