Gorillaz, the cartoon band with Damon Albarn at the faders and Jamie Hewlitt on the felt tips, have had a pretty spectacular run of successes from debut single Clint Eastwood to previous album 2005’s Demon Days with its memorable vision of Shaun Ryder’s disembodied head burbling “It’s Dare!”. But is Plastic Beach as inventive as Blue Peter’s Tracey Island make or just full of recycled ideas?
Gorillaz have lain siege to the media, taking over the Guardian Music website and invading the covers of Q Magazine and Wired to name two. The cartoon conceit of hiding its collaborators behind a behind a cartoon band is getting tedious now, a joke that most people have got bored of laughing at but the music created by Damon Albarn with his revolving cast of guests is only getting better and Plastic Beach proves that.
On Plastic Beach, Gorilaz have created their richest set of songs with Albarn’s world music tastes combining well with the pop instincts behind Blur’s best songs and the myriad talents of his hand picked crew of guest vocalists. Bringing Bobby Womack back from a period of semi-retirement to lend vocals to Stylo, the first single from Plastic Beach, was an inspired move giving the driving electronica an injection of soul.
Elsewhere, Mark E Smith is Plastic Beach’s Shaun Ryder, a cracked and almost comedic presence that makes Glitter Freeze sound like a lost soldier tapping out Morse Code from inside a warehouse full of classic Casio keyboards. When Smith begins the track with asking quizzically “Where’s North from ‘ere?”, you can’t help but smile. As usual, his disjointed sloganeering makes him sound like an apocalyptic priest.
There are plenty of other sterling turns on the record, Snoop Dogg on Welcome To The World of Plastic Beach is better than he has been at any time in the past five years, delivering typically laid-back rhymes but elevated by the tense keyboards and drums of the Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. If he’s smart, he’ll ask Albarn to produce his next record. British rappers, Bashy and Kano, fly the flag on the initially gentle White Flag with killer, pop culture reference heavy raps that bear repeated listening.
But while it’s easy to get distracted by the presence of greats like Paul Simonon and Mick Jones of The Clash and Lou Reed grumbling away, Albarn himself deserves some credit for the songs he tackles alone. On Melancholy Hill is one of his most heart-wrenching songs since Blur’s To The End.
Plastic Beach’s ecological theme (the plastic beach of the title refers to a mass of rubbish in the ocean) is pretty preachy coming from a bunch of musicians who spend much of their time travelling great distances to play at pretty wasteful events. But the concept of the Plastic Beach is really its least interesting facet. It’s a record stuffed with intriguing musical ideas and curious combinations and should be commended for that.
