In January, through sheer stupid luck, I found out that the new Blur documentary, No Distance Left to Run, was going to have a single unadvertised screening in “select Canadian cities” (happily I live in a select Canadian city). I reorganized my entire week according to that timeslot.
You see, for such a seminal band, Blur’s dvd offerings are rather anemic. A documentary called Starshaped from back in 1994, available only in PAL encoded VHS tapes, and a live dvd called Showtime, in 1995, which I remember catching on television at the time, but it also lacked distribution this side of the Atlantic. Since then, we’ve had the career-reduced-to-one-hour-greatest-hits-package BLUR: BEST OF BLUR, released in 2000, including a dvd of their music videos and a cd’s worth of singles. But even that offered very little in terms of document. 
Thus, for those who, like me, became incredibly excited at the news of a reunion tour in 2009, and were then ultimately disappointed that there would be no dates outside the UK, the arrival of the documentary was more than welcome. And given the recent renewal of interest in 90s music, we may even live to witness a full-on revival, putting the never-ending 80s revival out of its misery. Believe me, I’m not suggesting we replace neon-screened oversize t-shirts and La Roux haircuts with baggy chinos and purple golf shirts, but there’s material there worth revisiting.
And the clever shirts over at EMI seem to have sensed this renewed interest in 90s icons, giving Blur a new greatest hits treatment, aptly titled Midlife: A Beginner’s Guide to Blur. This time, there are two discs, containing not merely a shopping list of chart toppers, but allows the occasional foray into more interesting territory, painting a far more well-rounded portrait of the band than Best of Blur did, including tracks from the experimental and single-less (and mostly Coxon-less) Think Tank (2003).
No Distance also serves as a well-timed follow-up to Alex James’ 2007 autobiography, Bit of a Blur, a witty, incredibly entertaining read, which describes the Blur story, from their humble ramshackle beginnings in Colchester to the post-Blur period, told mostly through a string of insane anecdotal episodes, from Alex’ tender recollections of their adventures in Old Blighty and beyond.
WE’VE GOT A FILE ON YOU
The documentary itself is a very clever piece of editing and use of archival footage, but reaches beyond that, succeeding as a compelling, well told, and at times highly emotional story about friendship.
For those who did not follow the band’s career (as carefully as I did), the major reason for the band’s breakup was a falling out between singer Damon Albarn and guitarist Graham Coxon. And when the documentary begins with Alex explaining his reasons for the reunion, “Getting my friends back, that’s what I really needed,” the film’s agenda is made abundantly clear.
What follows is a very well constructed narrative, alternating between the story of the band’s reunion and the complete history of the band itself. Thus, as well follow the band on the road in 2009, from the first rehearsals to their two-night concert in Hyde Park in front of 50,000 fans, we get a comprehensive view of the back-story, using the cities they cross along the way as markers for the various periods in the band’s evolution.
The film is beautifully shot, and a pleasure to watch. I particularly enjoyed the slow pan-shots of the recent live performances, with an overlay of more obscure, soundtrack-like blur songs (that we’re not actually seeing them play). In fact, for the duration of the film, the big hits are mostly eschewed in favor of more appropriate tracks, chosen for their evocative qualities (you know, like soundtrack music).
As we follow the band on their 2009 summer tour, playing in small venues that hold emotional resonance for them, such as the Railway Museum in Colchester, where they played their first ever gig as Blur, and Goldsmith’s college Student Union, where Alex met Graham (as well as hugely important artistic luminaries, such as Damien Hirst – if you don’t know who that is, look him up, he’s one of the most important artists alive today), we get to see the band members reflect on the past in about as much honesty as I’ve ever seen in a rockumentary, addressing Graham’s alcoholism (which he likes to call “spending more time with the painters and decorators down at the pub”), Damon’s designs to single-handedly create a British Pop, as a reaction to the “shit that was coming over from America,” as well as the tragic ending to his relationship with Elastica singer Justine Frischmann.
Remarkably, for a rock band documentary, the film ends with a true emotional climax. While we watch clips from their Glastonbury headlining gig, intercut with descriptions of Graham’s final days in Blur, before checking in to rehab and avoiding speaking with Damon for the next decade, Graham confesses, “we didn’t realise how amazing it would feel,” and “I’d missed Damon quite a lot.” We even get to see Damon crouching on stage, crying, while he says, off-screen: “we managed to come back, intact, and do the best gigs we’d ever done; a testament to our original friendship.”
Another side of the band we get to see is just how much more punk rock their live performances were compared with the studio recordings. All the songs are louder, faster, and rougher. And even more so during the 2009 reunion tour. We get to see a little bit of that in the live clips captured in the documentary, but the 2-hour DVD of their performance at Hyde Park that comes packaged with the documentary really drives the point home, filling an important gap in the live footage available to Blur fans.
MOVIN’ ON
At first glance, it would seem that the trajectory of rise to fame and subsequent plundering into “artistic difference” oblivion is all too typical of the rock band career archetype, but, well, in Blur’s case, it just ain’t so.
First of all, while most young bands thrown into the spotlight and immediate fame end up railroaded into progressively more insipid and safe, radio-friendly rubbish (cough, U2, cough, Coldplay, cough, Kings of Leon, cough cough cough, etc), Blur went in the entire opposite direction. After hitting their popularity peak in 1995 with The Great Escape, and their record label milking their rivalry with Oasis for all its worth, they went on to record the most challenging and experimental music of their careers, with Blur, 13, and Think Tank. At that point, they would enter the studio with the intent of “making music that scares people again.” Damon’s songwriting also changed during that period, going from the characters he’d created to songs that were far more personal and emotionally charged, culminating in No Distance Left to Run, about his breakup with Justine.
The other difference with most pop bands is that about the time Blur stopped making records, Damon’s subsequent project, Gorillaz ended up, in only two albums, outselling Blur’s entire catalogue. Damon’s solo project ended up upstaging the band. The only other band I can think of to achieve such a feat was New Order, rising from the ashes of Joy Division to far greater success.
Now, Damon and the others have clearly stated that no more touring or albums are in the works for Blur. And while thousands of Blur fans can continue to hope, at least we’ve got this solid bit of closure to come back to, and, well, in the end we can just be happy that they got their mates back.
Mates are important, and as I watched the documentary, scribbling down my notes, one of my friends took her own notes. Here is her review, reproduced in its entirety:
Louise. Panties. Beer and smashing things.
by Toby Andris-Cayouette
