| Official rating: | 84 |
Gorillaz’ role in indie-pop is a knot between consciencious objection and hedonism.
Demon Days parlays party-ready post-rock laced by futurist garage-hop as elastic as something DuPont would make. As war soaks our culture, Le Gorille preach a mobile, educated escapism capable of adapting to the level of humor and ingenuity necessary to survive precarious times.
The playful sound of apes mates an array of inventive blends of hip-hop, king of pop, europop, and indie rock worthy of any rockers or DJs y’all know. Consider Albarn & Co. evidence that we can have our fun, as long as we keep evolving.
Poker-faced and idealistic, Gorillaz channel the pent-up resentment of stifled youth bent on revolution. The first thought, “Last Living Souls”, feverishly begs the apocalyptic question, as if cornered and ready to do something about it. “Kids With Guns” aggravates and commands riot through angry crashing and echoed detachment. But, freshly, “O Green World” lightens the mood with a Nintendolicious jaunt into striding garage rock.
Eat it, %#&*ing Weezer.
The album’s midsection is a test, it’s of a party’s ability to survive the seriousness of everyday life. Organically similar to Jay-Z’s “Hard Knock-Life”, but far smoother, “Dirty Harry” waxes angelic in the midst of ghettoflash thunder. Demon Days exhibits numerous ways to break it down, play with fire, and carry the party through the night. “Feel Good Inc.” hollas at Outkast’s “Hey Ya” in a bouncetastic acoustic pump chillin with chicken-wang, backporch hip-hop.
Albarn relieves the album and tired booties with a transitory stargaze period. With confidence, “El Manana” is stranded but optimistic on a tropical island, at least calm in its desperation. “Every Planet We Visit Is Dead” is a hammocked collapse into slumber and a slow, churning orbit around an insistent organ tapping itself to stay lucid.
The fast pace swells again as growling street anthems throw a brick in the mainstream party window. “White Light” echoes the slicing opening riff from Interpol’s “Slow Hands”, but keeps it real with a thugged-out grunge beat straight out of the 90’s. “DARE” recalls a cracked-out 80’s Miami club, coke on the neon. Electrosynth fireworks fuel an adrenal duet of purely preserved insanity.
Albarn even tips his hat to himself, as somewhere out of Parklife is “Fire Coming Out of a Monkey’s Head”, featuring Dennis Hopper’s instructive speech laid upon a bounced houserock beat.
Finally, into the ultrasound womb we go. “Don’t Get Lost In Heaven” is a choral piano tap, XX’ed, swooning. “Demon Days” rolls a snare into swirling woodwinds beneath Albarn’s chimney sweep wail, eventually flowing to a bansheed crescendo, showin’ that the ladiez can freak you out, too.
Like surgeons and rebels, Gorillaz don’t hesitate to go street mix and studio masters to the max, all done with the accuracy and precision our technology allows. The beats are unheard of, the synths send shockwaves, and vocals of all ranges fuel a revolution. We didn’t deserve this album for another five years.
Gorilla Dance. Gorilla Dance.
Act of terrorism!
