I can’t admit to have ever been a fully-fledged fanboy of Damon Albarn’s Oasis-baiting Britpoppers (I was always more a Pulp man, myself) but having partly soundtracked my childhood I felt that Blur’s reunion shows weren’t something I wanted to miss. So, it was a bit of a shame that I left Hyde Park in a state of mild disappointment- particularly because none of the fault lies with the band themselves. True, Damon Albarn bellows rather than sings nowadays but you couldn’t hear him anyway over the even more overwhelming discordance of a myriad boozed-up 30 years old wrongly singing the lyrics to “Country House”. Graham Coxon’s guitar-work is still top notch, but when being buffeted by the backpack-wearing, bottle-chucking members of the Hyde Park Fucktard Committee it was a little hard to appreciate it.
Still, the show was party to a few exquisite moments: the grand old singalong coda to “Tender” was even better than the “Hey Jude” one at Coachella, “Girls and Boys,” “Parklife” and “Song 2” were always going to be fun, and closer “The Universal” was unexpectedly moving. But thanks to the crappy audience (and the dodgy sound to the left of the stage) it wasn’t quite the epoch-defining event I'd been anticipating. Ah well- you win some, you lose some.
As for the impressive roster of support acts: Deerhoof were typically fantastic and although they seemed to perplex many, I reckon they made a few converts too; the hotly-tipped Florence And The Machine, clad in what seemed to be her grandmother’s duvet cover, has an impressive voice but lacks the songs to match. Best of the bunch were Amadou and Mariam, whose blissful Malian jams were the perfect tonic for a scorchingly hot Summer’s evening- a brief nod to Michael Jackson‘s “Beat It” was a particularly sweet tribute to the late King of Pop, but the anaemic and frankly embarrassing Vampire Weekend seemed to drag for eternity, delivered with the soul and passion of an Enron board meeting.
(Photo: Anjali Knebworth (Flickr))
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