Blur: every album ranked in order of greatness

11 July, 2023

Blur

Is 2023 the second summer of Britpop? Between the reunion of Pulp, a new Blur album on the cards, a Tory government in crisis and a summer of music where a new generation of music fans take over, it all feels mightily familiar…

What better time for The Rise and Fall of Britpop, a new BBC podcast hosted by Steve Lamacq and Jo Whiley, to look back at how the scene was birthed, how it flourished and how, ultimately, it all fell apart in spectacular fashion. Including new interviews, archive material and more, the pair look at British society around the origin of the music, and how the bright young things took British culture to the world.

This past weekend (July 8), the reunited Blur played two shows at Wembley Stadium and will release their ninth album, ‘The Ballad of Darren’ next week (July 21). An apt moment to revisit and rank all their previous studio albums, then…

‘Leisure’ (1991)

Floppy, baggy, and a bit flabby, this one. Released in 1991, it sounds like a band trying to fit into the trends around them rather than define their own. ‘There’s No Other Way’ is the best song that The Stone Roses never wrote, the looped drum beat practically pinched from the Manchester band’s ‘Fool’s Gold’. Elsewhere, ‘She’s So High’ – as gorgeous as it is – is more in line with Cocteau Twins and MBV, but by album closer ‘Slow Down’, it ain’t half drags. “Thank God that [the album’s release] was a time when you could make a record that wasn’t right and not be discarded the next minute,’’ Albarn would later note. Let’s move on.

‘Think Tank’ (2003)

Barely a decade later and the band were approaching the end… or so we thought. It would be the last record released under the Blur name until 2015’s ‘The Magic Whip’, and was an intimate, if slightly underwhelming collection. Coxon had left the band in 2002, and Albarn, James and Rowntree pieced large parts of it together in riad in Morocco. No wonder it sounds so disjointed: ‘Crazy Beat’ is deeply irritating, and ‘Jets’ is spacious but forgettable. That said, ‘Out of Time’, is up there with their strongest material, one that reads as shaking hands across the divide from Albarn to Coxon during their estrangement.

‘The Magic Whip’ (2015)

In the period that followed, a new Blur album wasn’t a given. A reunion in 2009 and then more shows in 2012 were strictly live ventures – standalone singles ‘Under The Westway’ and ‘Fools Day’ aside – and reports of a new record were contradicting at best. Pieced together following a tour delay in Hong Kong in 2013, and then finished off a year later, the group’s return to the studio was surprising but most welcome. ‘Lonesome Street’ and ‘Go Out’ reignites their inner-lout, but it’s an equally delicious treat on ‘My Terracotta Heart’ and ‘Ghost Trip’. Its existence itself was satisfying enough.

‘The Great Escape’ (1995)

There is truth to what Elastica’s Justine Frischmann – Albarn’s partner at the time of its release – said about the album being “so cheesy, like a parody of ‘Parklife’, but without the balls or the intellect.” Oof. That said, It is fun and loose with tracks ‘The Universal’, ‘Stereotypes’ and ‘Charmless Man’ providing a string of top-tier hits, while ‘Mr. Robinsons Quango’ is a perfect distillation of their sound; Coxon’s crunchy guitar riffs paired with James’ sensational bass line. Oh, and they had a little song called ‘Country House’. Think that one did alright? (AD)

‘Blur’ (1997)

Fitting, really, that the cover of their 1997 self-titled record shows a gurney being raced into an emergency room. Following ‘The Great Escape’ – and the fallout of the Battle of Britpop – the band were distant and in need of a bit of healing. They decamped to Reykjavík and channeled new influences: Coxon and Albarn’s love of Pavement and Beck shone through, while ‘Death of Party’ is an apt reflection of their mood at the time: “The death of the party/Came as no surprise.” ‘The Great Escape’ wasn’t that bad, lads! Look past the stadium-baiting of ‘Song 2’ and there’s some quite magical, understated things happening on this record.

‘Modern Life Is Rubbish’ (1993)

Fueled by debts, a failed attempt to crack America and the media’s perception of the band at the time, ‘Modern Life…’ showcases the quartet as they entered uncharted territory. Alex James referred to their second album as the band’s “magnum opus” due to its vast scope in sound: they were fearless in playing around with different styles including punk rock (‘Advert’), neo-psychedelia (‘Chemical World’) and music-hall (‘For Tomorrow’). Elsewhere, ‘Colin Zeal’ and ‘Pressure on Julian’ are pure bangers that highlight Coxon’s signature complex guitar riffs. Blur’s bold reinvention was what saved the band and would essentially birth Britpop. (AD)

‘Parklife’ (1994)

The big one. If there was a defining Britpop album, might it be this? It was era-defining, and took voyeuristic reading of British life in the ‘90s: working-class heroes, middle-class bores and lusty teens would all star. At the time, NME’s Jonny Dee called it “’Modern Life Is Rubbish’s’ older brother – bigger, bolder, narkier and funnier” in a 9/10 review. ‘Parklife’ is a seminal song that is, indeed, “for all the people” and ‘This Is A Low’ is a devastating blueprint for where’d they’d go towards the close of the decade.

‘13’ (1999)

By the end of the century, it finally felt like we got to know Blur. The years of wily characters, cheeky lyrics and the heady Britpop days dissipated and we were left with ‘13’, a devastating, heartfelt and human record. It caught the band as things were truly falling apart: Albarn had split with Frischmann, they moved on from long-time producer Stephen Street, and relationships between the band had deteriorated. No surprise that Albarn sought refuge with his then-secret Gorillaz project on the sly.

It’s there in every song, inescapable and suffocating. ‘No Distance Left To Run’ cannot mask the pain – “it’s over, you don’t have to tell me” – while ‘Tender’ is majestic and hopeful, a flickering light in a world of darkness. That impending doom loosened the band: ‘Battle’, ‘Swamp Song’ and ‘Optigan I’ are cerebral, uncomfortable and challenging. It would be the final album Coxon played on, and a hell of swansong to a decade that they ruled.