Gorillaz
The Fall

FIRST POINT: Ipad. A neutral and virtual field, no one plays, only the circuits listen, direct grab of the new millennium. SECOND POINT: no band. That is, Gorillaz. OK, there's Mr. Damon Albarn, Mr. Blur, but Gorillaz ARE NOT A BAND. Perhaps occasionally a collective, but not a band, not in the strict sense, they are a virtual band, which exists in a world made of ether, synthetic. And this, in my opinion, is the best way to let the synthetic characters speak, which in '98 the aforementioned Albarn suggested to Jamie Hewlett. So far, we have seen a plethora of characters and musicians behind various sensitive instruments (real) or not, but this time the creator of the cartoon four-piece saw it right, working alone with a new, futuristic "instrument" if you will, and probably in many cases only in a hotel room during the tour of his creation. So for me, these are the TRUE Gorillaz, maybe not the best, the glories of the first album are, for me, unreachable, but certainly the closest to their nature.

Let's move on to the tracks. "Phoner To Arizona" is an excellent exercise in "synth-esis" to show us the potential of the medium used by Albarn to compose these pieces, an electro-genic crescendo, gradually various pieces add up, the song is composed like a puzzle under the incessant bouncing synthesizer, which dances around the sparse drums, and opens the doors to synthesized voices from the best electro '80s. We immediately change the register, "Revolving Doors", in my opinion the best track of the lot, the one that moved me the most, probably recorded on a "foggy day", introspective and melancholic it revolves around a simple guitar chord that is gradually surpassed by keyboards, choirs, and Damon's beautiful voice, it feels like being back in the good old days of Blur singles, it sticks in your head, a slight change during the short bridges and then a tail of choirs, real emotional pop.

Under the intro of "Hillybilly Man", there seems to be incessant rain, a winter evening accompanied by a beautiful clean guitar and a distant theremin, however, soon transforms into a club song, house full of the pathos of the drawn voice, a piece that remains suspended, never really takes off, but that’s its beauty. The third chapter is "Detroit", paying its debt to that city's electronic music, synthesizer sobs accompany a very Blur-like carefree melody, and a voice filtered through a talk box in the nice fashion of today's "experimental" hip-hop, it's short, and brings us to "Shytown", whose synthesized waves cradle us along with space keyboards, crystalline futuristic melodies and immediately Albarn arrives, slightly off-key, deliberately, he attaches to the choruses until something that reminds me of a Moog arrives, '70s space, infinite space, we drift outward, towards the whistling wind under a pulsating bass, the bass of "Little Plastic Bags", a spooky piece (like the next one, a perfect piece to attribute to "bassist" Murdoc) sung almost soulfully, lightly, incorporeally, the voice remains distant, and counterpoints the bass with an unsettling keyboard.

"The Joplin Spider" opens with a call interrupted by a noise synthesizer that shatters the ears, with background percussion that seems to have come from low-fi Ministry, metallic and martial, acting as a guide to the "beamlaser" battles that break off to make way for a song that sounds like a nursery rhyme, the beat always remains very industrial and unsettling to the end, the talk box returns. The radio changes station more and more times until it settles on a soul station with almost epic tones ("The Parish Of Space Dust"), recorded voices welcome us to other times, in which we find a gospel choir Albian in Damon's voice. Futuristic hip-hop arrives in full force, instrumental, pompous and dark and exalted by the synthetic brass of "The Snake In Dallas".

Neither infamy nor praise for the electronic mid-tempo of the hypnotic "Amarillo", the album begins to settle on almost epic tones, but somewhat repetitive, the same goes for the vocal recordings of "The Speak It Mountains", but it seems more like a "skit" than a track, leading to the minimalist electro of "Aspen Forest", with its subdued piano, and "cellular" disturbances, melodies always sweet, but never boring. I am baffled by the country intro of "Bobby In Phoenix", the full and strong guitar that soon leaves a bit of space to the '80s keypads that make the background for Bobby Womack's soulful, true, and passionate voice.

We are at the final beats of the journal, we are probably at an airport in "California & The Slipping Of The Sun", the megaphone-filtered voice softly greets the departure of something that may never return under an endless synth drone until the plane takes off, the wings mix with a hot industrial wind, and we end with "Seattle Yodel", and the title says it all. After so much "stuff" it was appropriate to close with a nothing done.

Rereading what I wrote I see that many elements often return, maybe they are just song ideas, maybe my vocabulary is not very extensive, maybe the Ipad doesn't offer us all these hints yet and maybe maybe it’s still better to play, but the fact is that my thoughts remain the same as at the beginning. True Gorillaz thought (2011).