Damon Albarn sure has a great sense of humor, or at the very least an amazing predeliction/penchant for irony to rival the best of sarcastic songwriters since Mr. Raymond Douglas Davies, Elastica frontchick Justine’s necessarily subjective post-breakup take be damned. As pretty much most of us know by now (or should, thanks in no small measure to NME’s continual blatherings on the gossipy side of things), “Tender,” Blur’s first single off their last interesting, hit-n’-miss collection “13”, redresses the relationship gone wrong in a sly, underhand way, and proves to my not-always-so-distinguishing ear as good a piece of popcraftsmanship we’ve seen mostly all year, its lift and swoon easing us into the not-so-tender sentiment of “Tender is the touch/Of someone that you love too much, ” after beginning with the aching reminiscence “Tender is the night/ Lying by your side.” Albarn, here playing up the role of spurned lover, lets us in on the secrets of his fragile, feral heart. The lover he sings of no longer lying in his arms, the melody suggestive of the very possibility that she’s actually lying with another, and he’s just not too bloody certain he can make it without her, Albarn & Co. then goading him/themselves back on with a plaintive “Come on come on/ Get through it….”
Reminding us and himself that we’ve all been there, we’ve all suffered the dissolution of what we felt the truest of romance and affection, and yes life does go on in much the same fashion, no matter how much at the time we might wish it wouldn’t.
Yeah, “Tender” did it for me, especially the nice live “Hey Jude-y” version of it that appeared late one superstoned Sunday night on EmptyV, did it to the point where I pretty much jumped straightup from my what was once my ex-girlfriend’s stepfather’s LazyBoy, ear-to-ear grinning at the beautiful simplicity of the number and the sheer cosmic freight of this Napolean-complexed genius of a songstyler’s take on his (and by extension, all) relationships. For “Tender,”Albarn employed both an orchestra AND a gang of soul singers to take this revenge-cum-wistfulness number to twin poles of aural revelation: it reads like a simple poem about the loss of loving and the necessity of healing oneself in the face of the ordinary human relationship “tragedies,” but then Graham Cox’s weigh-in on the tune feels to be the sweet, touching element that polishes the diamond in the rough to a sparkling, twinkling sheen.
Another Blur gem to be reckoned with, cigarette-smoked to, dissected and enjoyed over and over is “The Universal,” (from 1995’s The Great Escape) which for my stop, (please DON’T grab yr) cock, n’roll dollar is pretty much about as good as it gets. Straight from its opening swell I’m lost upon a gently swaying but somehow troublefree sea wherein the foundation of the fortress of my not-so-holy soul feels as if the world’s instantly become a safer place for moms, babies, sleeping dogs, and apple pie (who the fuck do I think I am, Gordon “Stink” Sumner? writing claptrap like that—-sorry, friends),—gently enfolded, as swaddled and protected as a newborn by a mercurial dreamlike melody in which I’m promptly assured,
“This is the next century/ Where the universal’s free
You can find it anywhere
Yes, the future has been sold
Every night we’re gone/ & to karaoke songs
How we like to sing along/ though the words are wrong
IT REALLY REALLY REALLY COULD HAPPPEN!!!
When the days they seem to fall through you
Well just let them go….
Then, as if that alone weren’t enough to just about ruin you or me, Albarn pleas
No one here is alone/ satellites in every home
Yes the universal’s here/ here for everyone
Every paper that you read
Says tomorrow’s your lucky day
Well here’s your lucky day
It really really REALLY could happen, etc.
How endearingly assuring! the kicker here of course being that while the music is lulling me into a false sense of emotional accomodation and your basic Georgey Harrison-y feel-good I’m ok you’re ok at-peaceness with my surroundings, Albarn’s cheeky subtext is absolutely battering my former-English major/existentialist in search of independence sense of mortality with the other, more certain & certainly much less pleasant universal: that, finally, we are all utterly solely alone, both liberated and imprisoned to think and feel whatever we will within the space between our ears, & to lift from an old friend’s lyric, echoes the resounding resurgence that one day “We all die alone, undercover or overexposed.” And yet, the music and mock-tragic depth, the coy knowing clarity and beauty of Albarn’s voice so plaintively makes it plea that for these 3 & 1/2 minutes at least we’re transported, levitated, set adrift from our fears and are, for the time being at least, somehow more accommodated or at-peace with what the eventual fate of our painfully painstakingly overexposed and overblown life-experiences have been, will be. So there.
Ps. Blur’s back together as of the beginning of 2009.
