GORILLAZ

Damon Albarn delivers an actual singles collection from the virtual Gorillaz 

By Matt Ashare

November 30, 2011

The Burg

Gorillaz, The Singles Collection 2001-2011 (Virgin)

I had every intention of of approaching Gorillaz new ten-year retrospective compilation The Singles Collection 2001-2011 as purely a musical entity — just fifteen tracks from the "virtual" band's three proper studio albums, including two remixes. But then I found myself actually stranded on or in "Plastic Beach," Gorillaz's interactive virtual recording studio complex, which is actually located at the band's website. Okay, so it's essentially a role-playing game, and I'm still stuck trying to identify the various captains (so far I've got Captain Crunch, Captain America, Captain Cook, and a handful of others) on the "Captains Wall" in the study, although I will confess that from time to time I wander over to the fish tank to drop little nuggets of a Spam-like substance to a hungry little bugger swimming around in there just to pick up some points.

       Perhaps I should backtrack a bit. When Gorillaz got off the ground back in 2000, it was billed as a multi-media collaboration between Damon Albarn, the cheeky frontman of ’90s Brit-pop sensation Blur, comic book artist Jamie Hewlett of Tank Girl fame, and SF hip-hop producer Dan "The Automator" Nakamura — an eclectic, brainy bunch, to be sure. To further diversify, Albarn brought Talking Heads/Tom Tom Club bassist Tina Weymouth and drummer Chris Franz, Cibo Matto multi-instrumentalist Miho Hatori, rapper Del tha Funkee Homosapien, and a couple of Nakamura's pals, DJs Deltron 3030 and Kid Koala, along for the first Gorillaz studio adventure, a self-titled 2001 album that merged hip-hop beats, Brit-pop hooks, dubby production, and playful programming into something both unique and accessible to the tune of roughly 7 million units moved worldwide. Yet, in typically puckish fashion, Albarn asked to have Gorrilaz withdrawn for consideration after it was nominated for Britain's prestigious Mercury Prize.

       Meanwhile, Hewlett set about creating characters, storylines, and, in very Tank Girl fashion, an entire dystopic world for Gorillaz. The band's titular frontman, singer/keyboardist/guitarist 2-D, would appear to be an Albarn avatar — a black-eyed, spiky-haired, nihilistic punk with mischief on his mind. And then there's tall, dark, roguishly handsome bassist Murdoc; guitar ace Noodle, a little Japanese grrrl who looks like she was plucked straight out of a futuristic Anime series; and, on drums, a rather large b-boy who goes by the name of Russel. Along with the dozens of futuristic videos Hewlett's produced for his creations — including one for each of the tracks on The Singles Collection — there's a 304-page band biography (Rise of the Ogre), and several DVDs documenting the various "phases" of Gorillaz (there have been three, one for each studio album).

       For all of Hewlett's stylistic flash, it's still an awful lot to get one's mind around, particularly for an entity that doesn't really exist. And yet, you kinda have to admire the lengths to which Albarn and Hewlett have gone in marketing a project that, at its core, is essentially a commentary on how art and music are branded in the digital age. In 2004, they went so far as to create a viral marketing campaign at rejectfalseicons.com based around the line "reject false icons" from the "Rock It" single. But I won't get into that here. . .

       If you're not sure whether you've ever heard a Gorillaz tune, chances are you have: the upbeat dance track "Feel Good Inc.," featuring the members of De La Soul sparring maniacally with a melancholy Albarn, wasn't just one of the better charting singles on Gorillaz's 2005 album Demon Days, it also formed the basis for one of Apple's more successful iPod ad campaigns. (If you're a gamer — video, that is — then there are a couple of other tracks on The Singles Collection that are likely to sound familiar.) And, just last year, Albarn made the Apple connection again when he produced an entire downloadable Gorillaz disc, The Fall, using an iPad and featuring, among others, former Clash guitarist and bassist Mick Jones and Paul Simonon, who'd also been part of a touring version of Gorillaz.

       All the extras — from Jones and Simonon, to rapper Mos Def and r&b singer Bobby Womack (they turn up together on the spacey techno-funk single "Stylo"), to the cast of characters Hewlett has created — have threatened, at times, to overshadow the substance of Albarn's Gorillaz, namely the songs themselves. And, make no mistake, Albarn is the primary musical force behind Hewlett's cartoon caricatures. Indeed, the chronologically arranged Singles Collection essentially traces the evolution of Albarn's clever take on pomo hip-pop, which is often every bit as peculiarly British as was Blur's brand of guitar-based rock. That's especially true on a track like "DARE," a blue-eyed soul number with falsetto vocals that features intermittent declamations by former Happy Mondays mumbler Shaun Ryder, and the more hip-hoppity breakfast treat "Superfast Jellyfish," a techno twister that pairs De La Soul with Welsh singer Gruff Rhys of Super Furry Animals.

       And then there's the relatively straightforwardly reflective "On Melancholy Hill," a melodic mid-tempo number that finds Albarn on hooky terrain that's not much of a leap from where he once stood with Blur. Maybe that's really the point of having a virtual band to hide behind: ultimately, it gives Albarn the freedom to take Gorillaz in whatever direction he choses, even if that means handing the microphone over to a relatively unknown Manchester soul singer named Daley for the yearning "Doncamatic," a disco throwback that's also Gorillaz most recent single.

       As for me, I'm still trying to conquer the "Captains Wall" so that I can move on to the next level of "Plastic Beach."