I know I’m a bit late to cover this, but Blur have reunited! They are set to play two dates at Hyde Park in London next summer and it’s also rumoured that they may play Coachella and Glastonbury. I might add, the Hyde Park dates sold out within two minutes of going on sale, proving that even though Britons buy the records by Gorillaz and Graham Coxon, they still have a massive soft spot for my favourite Essex art-schoolers.
Personally, Blur is my favourite band. I really did grow up with their records. One of my earliest memories is the Battle of Britpop. “The Universal” is actually the first song I remember hearing that wasn’t by Aretha Franklin or from a Bollywood film. Then when I moved to the United States, Blur were that vital connection back home. For years, whenever I felt homesick or depressed, I would put on one of their CDs and it helped me. Since no one here in the States knew about them past “Song 2,” it felt rather like Blur were my own personal band. I don’t mean to gush, but really, there are very few bands that are as ingrained in the fabric of my life as Blur.
In honour of their reunion, I’ve decided to get out all my Blur records (all seven studio albums, Bustin’ + Dronin,’ two CD-singles and a mix of B-sides someone made me) and choose my 25 favourite Blur songs. It was very difficult but I believe I’ve put together a solid list that includes most of the big hits, as well as a few hidden gems. I only chose one song from 13 and Think Tank, but that’s because I prefer to listen to those records as a whole.

Note: the bloody Blogger software doesn’t want to cooperate with me today and number the songs, but they are ranked in order, “The Universal” being #1.

The Universal (from The Great Escape): Buried in the heart of Blur’s least-accomplished album (by Blur standards; it’s still a home run by most band’s standards) is “The Universal.” Their most moving, genuinely affecting moment, this string-led ballad is perhaps the Blur song most likely to move you to tears. Released in November 1995 in order to contend for the Christmas #1 and considered a failure when it peaked at #5 (!), “The Universal” was reportedly inspired by America’s fondness for Prozac. The song is set in the future, where everyone is heavily medicated in order to get through their miserable lives. Despite that dreary premise, the chorus is one of pop’s most optimistic, joyous moments, one of those things that made me a true music fanatic. My response to it may be coloured by the fact that it’s one of my earlier musical memories, but for me, this is Blur’s finest moment. The only bad thing I can say about it is that, on the album, it’s followed by the train-wreck “Mr Robinson’s Quango.” Alongside “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” this may be the best song of the 90s, and I have no doubt that it will manage to transcend the Britpop rat race of which it was so famously a part.

Oily Water (from Modern Life is Rubbish): Harsh, cacophonous, violent, this song was the first song that the band wrote and recorded for Modern Life is Rubbish. It represents a quantum leap in quality, with Damon writing a more poetic and mysterious lyric than anything on Leisure and Graham bringing My Bloody Valentine’s guitar innovations into a pop context. My main memory of this was the month I spent figuring out how to make my guitar sound like that. For any guitarists that may be reading this, the effects he uses are distortion, reverb and wah-wah.

Song 2 (from Blur): Known Stateside as “the woo-hoo song,” this brief grunge parody was the band’s only single to gain traction in the American charts (well, “Girls and Boys” did as well, but no one here remembers it now). My feelings are decidedly mixed about this one. The song obviously rocks, and the lyric is a clever swipe at the 90s apathetic slacker mentality, but on the other hand, one of the greatest bands in British history is essentially a one-hit wonder here. But as I said, the song rocks, so sod all that.

Sing (UK editions of Leisure): In stark contrast to pretty much all of Leisure, and indeed, Blur’s pre-13 catalog, this song is pure shoegaze. The piano and the vocals merge into a gorgeous haze, while the bass is a vitreous shimmer that recalls Wire’s “Being Sucked In Again.” It’s a wondrous journey through rainclouds of sound. When I lived in Desoto, I used to bike in cloudy weather with this on my Walkman. I had a cassette with this and stuff by Slowdive, Ride and Toral on it. Come to think of it, I might do a post on that in future.

Bone Bag (B-side of “For Tomorrow”): Built around a simple tabla rhythm and some tremolo-treated guitars, “Bone Bag” is one of the most beguiling moments of Blur’s career. Shamefully, it was hidden away on the cassette single of “For Tomorrow,” while rubbish like “Coping” made it to the album.

Girls and Boys (from Parklife): On this one, Blur does cheesy Euro-disco while swiping at holidaymakers. Right then. But the lyrics, on closer inspection, reveal a Britain of anomie and drift, only willing to celebrate hedonism. Damon goes after trendy bisexuality (God, that man is prescient, isn’t he?), sets the template for Pulp’s breakthrough the following year and, for better or worse, birthed the beast we now call Britpop. Friends, this is history.

Death of a Party (from Blur): Blur demonstrated just how multi-faceted they were with this highlight from their fifth album. Built around a heavy trip-hop groove that would make Portishead envious and eerie fairground organ, it points ahead to Gorillaz, the project that would finally make Damon successful in the United States.

Country House (from The Great Escape): Pretty much all of England is sick of this one by now, but it’s still an immaculately-structured pop tune (not to mention, a damn sight better than its competition). You’ll have to forget about the ludicrous video, which is why I haven’t linked to it. All together now, in your best Mockney accents: “‘e lives in an ‘aus, a very big ‘aus in the country…”

Bugman (from 13): Imagine David Bowie’s “Suffagette City” completely reconstructed by Boris, and you’ve got “Bugman.” This is probably the loudest, most abrasive song in Blur’s canon. In fact, it’s not really recognisable as Blur, but that seems to be what 13 was all about.

End of a Century (from Parklife): This isn’t really one of Blur’s best songs per se, but I included it because it’s so much fun to play on a road trip. I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but nothing is better for a family singalong en route to Birmingham. And also, I can’t think of a Top 20 hit wth a more surreal opening line.

For Tomorrow (from Modern Life is Rubbish): The lead single for Modern Life is Rubbish, this song introduced Britain to Blur 2.0, a band that would recontextualise centuries of classic British music for the present day.

Essex Dogs (from Blur): I’m sure Parklife acolytes are going, ‘what the hell?’ right now, considering what I put two spots below this, but remember, this list is merely subjective. I happen to love this one. There’s some neat guitar and bass interplay, a great beat and Damon lays an eerie poem over it all. I was on the school paper in high school, and I listened to Blur and this song in particular a massive amount during deadline.

Wear Me Down (from Leisure): Recorded with Wire producer Mike Thorne, as Select magazine put it, this song struggles to leave dreariness behind. Recorded at a very casual tempo, the song features one of Dave’s wildest drum performances, a cascade of crashing cymbals bleeding into Graham’s electric guitar durm und strang. The song emerges from sludge for a few perfect pop choruses, before descending into solos and feedback. It’s not very commercial, but it’s nice to hear Blur doing something different.

This is a Low (from Parklife): This is basically the finale of Parklife (I count “Lot 105” as more of a skit or interlude) and it’s a perfect ending to a nearly-flawless album. The lyrics are based on the shipping forecast, which generations of Britons have used as a gentle sleep aid, and the music is almost like a lullaby, until Graham comes in with another brilliant solo, a white-knuckled ride up and down his fretboard. I’m not really one for guitar leads, but this man does something really special with them.

Inertia (B-side of “There’s No Other Way”): Hidden away on the flip-side of Blur’s first major hit, this is a luscious bit of downtown psychedelic blues. Damon provides another lovely vocal and Alex and Dave tastefully guide the song along, but Graham truly owns this song. “Inertia” functions as practically an encyclopedia of Graham’s guitar tricks: it boasts bluesy bends, shimmering arpeggios and clouds of Loveless-style guitar haze at the end. Plus, it segues perfectly into the next track, “Mr. Briggs.” In fact, I’m so fond of this track that I chose it for my Last.fm username.

Beetlebum (from Blur): Simultaneously reminiscent of the Beatles and Pavement, this song was Blur’s second chart-topper as well as the first taste of Blur 3.0. It’s still very much melodic pop, but it’s rawer and less layered than the sometimes suffocating songs from The Great Escape. I’ve heard it’s about heroin, but as a seven-year-old, I simply thought it was a catchy tune. I might have ranked this one higher, but I find the coda a bit overlong.

Good Song (from Think Tank): While many people have criticised this song for its use of a guitar loop rather than a live performance, I think it’s a fitting addition to Blur’s ballad canon. The chorus is a stunner, floating and gentle, while Damon’s vocal is atypically laid-back. Besides, if you want to hear truly awful guitar loops, try Madonna’s American Life album.

Parklife (from Parklife): This is London, really. I can’t think of any other way to describe this tune. For me at least, it epitomises the experience of being in the capital city.

Birthday (from Leisure): The penultimate track on the band’s underrated debut Leisure, “Birthday” is most striking for its dissimilarity to the rest of the record. A slow-tempo piano dirge with ethereal backing vocals and a coda of ensemble guitar-noise, this tune hints at the more experimental vein the band would take with Blur.

Advert (from Modern Life is Rubbish): Blur always included one punky outburst on their albums, and this one is their best. Damon rants about advertising while Graham bashes out the same four chords through the song. For some reason, it also reminds me of “England’s Dreaming” by Cornershop, another great British institution.

To The End (from Parklife): If not for “The Universal,” this one would be the ultimate Blur slow jam. For me, there haven’t been many lines in pop greater than “And you and I collapsed in love.” You can hardly tell that Damon, by his own admission, is completely stoned whilst singing this. Also, for you Stereolab fans, the lady singing the French bits is none other than Laetitia Sadier.

Stereotypes (from The Great Escape): A generic Blur tune, with lyrics about a saucy suburban couple. Like the record it’s taken from, it’s not that extraordinary, truth be told. But it’s a lot of fun to dance to whilst singing into a hairbrush. Not that yours truly has ever done that, of course.

Strange News From Another Star (from Blur): I am utterly convinced that Blur’s best moments were not their big pop gestures, but their quieter, less obvious material. The ethereal beauty of this one is a perfect example. The video is a solo piano performance of the song for a John Peel tribute.

Pressure on Julian (from Modern Life is Rubbish): God, Modern Life is Rubbish is such a fun record to drive to. This song is a highlight of that record’s first half, with evocative lyrics, an almost elastic bass line from Alex (possibly the best rock bassist since Paul McCartney, in my opinion) and swirling, psychedelic guitars. This should have been a single.

She’s So High (from Leisure): This is actually the only Blur single to miss the UK Top 30. It’s basically an amalgamation of dream-pop and Baggy music, complete with incredibly vapid lyrics. Yes, this song was as constructed to chart in its era as Rihanna is in ours. But that doesn’t take a thing away from the gloriousness of that solo.

HONOURABLE MENTION: Tracy Jacks

There are, of course, many great Blur moments that I haven’t included. I encourage you to visit the band’s Last.fm page, where six of their studio albums (but not Leisure, grr) are available for streaming. Also, visit this post at my other blog, Instant Hit, to get “Inertia,” “Mr. Briggs,” “Bone Bag” and four remixes of “Bugman.”