Damon Albarn
Everyday Robots

Damon Albarn has always given me the impression of a student. Perhaps it's because of his carefree air of an eternal boy, or because when I discovered his music, I was the high school student. And he, in accordance with the idea I had of him, continued to study his subject: applied pop music. It seems that from the beginning he wanted to follow a sort of initiatory path, starting with basic studies with Blur, with already excellent results at times, delving into contemporary culture in the comic band Gorillaz devoted to a very modern sound, then immersing himself in experiences of tribal music first (Mali Music) and more traditional rock later (The Good, The Bad & The Queen). At forty-six, perhaps satisfied with what he's learned, he believed it was time to release music under his own (sole) name.

Certainly, from such an attentive and original musician, one could not expect a banal reprise of what he had already done. Everyday Robots is indeed a surprising album of intimate and caressing tracks, interspersed with sporadic pop episodes. Perhaps the beautiful title track, with vague Radiohead reminiscences, does not do justice or fully testify to what Albarn has composed. Listen to the suite You And Me on headphones, co-produced with Brian Eno, and you'll realize how mature and capable this artist is at shaping the matter at hand. Be wary of the more well-beaten radio track Heavy Seas Of Love, with Eno still present, even in this case on vocals: it's a successful gospel with a Beatles-esque flavor, but we are always on tones too familiar and conventional. Instead, lose yourself in the dark Hollow Ponds, where our musician flaunts a compositional attitude akin to Roger Waters, using the colloquial and tormented tone dear to the creative genius of Pink Floyd.

Of absolute value is the choice of lyrics, for which Albarn candidly admits he had to put forth maximum effort due to his natural limitation in writing them. The idea of putting his personal experiences into words for the first time was enriched by an equally personal vision of contemporary society. Lonely Press Play is the simplest and most poignant example: arrhythmia, accepting that you live with uncertainty, if you're lonely press play, where with remarkable conciseness he ironically invites us to press play on any device we have on hand, to escape the ills that afflict us. And the invasive and creeping technology of our times is almost anguishly mentioned even in more personal tracks like Photographs (You Are Taking Now) and The Selfish Giant.

What separates this excellent work from the masterpiece we now expect from Damon? Certainly a certain general heaviness, both musical and thematic. The joyful Mr. Tembo is not enough to break the rhythm, always very slow, and at least one more uptempo episode would have been welcome. The positive and undisputed result, however, is the official entry of our artist into the ranks of great English authors. Expectations are ever higher, and Damon will surely rise to the occasion.