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Caïna, Hordes, Barshasketh

The Unicorn

London, UK

September 6 2013

We've been talking a lot about the rebirth of Caïna of late and we'll soon have a review of the new record, Litanies Of Abjection, as well as an interview with the man behind the project, Andrew Curtis-Brignell. With the excitement around new music building, Andy made the decision to step back into the live arena and it followed that I took a chance and arranged his first live performance after four years away from the stage. Of course, I couldn't review the event because that would be a huge conflict and so after putting a call out, Chris Thomson of Beer And Life Matching threw me a message and said he'd review the gig. Below is his honest account of the evening. Thank you Chris. 

After weeks of uncharacteristic sunshine, a cold, grey gloom has descended on London today. I’m assuming this has been arranged to coincide with a Bleak Metal-curated night at The Unicorn, Camden.

First up are Barshasketh, who deliver a set drenched in despondent rage. Building on a foundation of hopeless guitar melody that suggests an appreciation of bands like Taake and Gorgoroth, soaring harmonic intervals intermittently offer up some belief that the crowd can escape the relentless misery, but those dreams are soon crushed when blasts of desolation inevitably return.

Tight, with a focused intensity, the band command attention but do occasionally look a little awkward on stage and uncomfortable in their own skin. Perhaps that’s because this is their first appearance in London and they’re overly eager to impress. Whatever the reason, I can’t imagine any awkwardness will linger much longer as I can see them playing on London stages bigger than this in the not too distant future.

Hordes, by comparison, have a more practised approach to their set. They turn off the stage lighting and are illuminated only by a projection on the wall behind them. The moving images soon disappear into the background of my consciousness though as the band starts to slowly, methodically shape a coherent noise before launching into a claustrophobic, oppressive onslaught.

Where Barshasketh brought a sense of space and melody, here there is none. The sound seems to be constructed around the drummer – specifically his snare – and he is fucking loud. It’s stifling, unyielding and the crowd are transfixed.

I’m not sure I would have the confidence to do what Andy Curtis-Brignell, the man behind Caïna, does next.

Following two accomplished, well-received black metal bands with nothing more than a guitar, a scattering of pedals and yourself in a pub on a Friday night in Camden just strikes me as, well, brave. But Andy uses that exposure, that rawness, that vulnerability to empower a performance that captivates his audience.

The unmoving wall of manipulated feedback, layers of looped distortion and desperate shrieks is mesmerising. Clearly completely improvised, at times it seems like Andy has lost control and his sounds are going to expand exponentially until they are torn apart, but he reins things in to such an extent that implosive collapse then appears imminent.

There’s a danger with this type of solo performance that everything can get a bit art school and pretentious, but Andy brings so much conviction and concentration to the stage that nothing feels forced or anything other than pure, honest expression. By the end of the night, the crowd are as lost in his music as he is.

It's that time once again! The fabled Progressive Music Awards are tomorrow night, and I've spent the last few weeks getting myself familiar with the best of the best in this year's progressive scene. Here are my thoughts, predictions, criticisms, and general sputterings about this years' selections.

ALBUM OF THE YEAR

I'll start with the category everyone is watching, and that's the prestigious Album of the Year award. Last years went to Rush's excellent Clockwork Angels, and while they totally deserved it, it did set something of a precedent—clearly fans like the legacy acts a bit more than their contemporary ones. On that, I'm putting my money on Steven Wilson's The Raven That Refused to Sing (And Other Stories). While he's not an older artist, The Raven is essentially a love letter to '70s progressive music, written and played faithfully to sound like Genesis or Yes in their early years. He also has the benefit of being one of the highest-profile musicians in the modern prog scene (being the frontman for Porcupine Tree does have some fringe benefits). None of that is to say that The Raven doesn't deserve that distinction—I personally think it's the best progressive album released in the past year. But there's no denying that Wilson has some very specific benefits on his side, and, no matter how cynically, that will do a lot to sway the fans.

I actually suspect that's part of why Steve Hackett's Genesis Revisited II received its nod for album of the year. It's a fantastic album, no doubt, but the fact that it's two discs of Genesis “covers” probably had a lot to do with that decision. I really do love Hackett's fresh interpretations of his old work, but let's be honest, a covers album really shouldn't be considered for an “album of the year”, even if it is the kind of stuff fans like to hear.

I'm actually stunned at the huge presence of post-progressive music at this year's awards. I thought it might have been a fluke when Anathema's fantastic Weather Systems was given a nod last year, but the inclusion of both Big Big Train and Amplifier this year seems to show that they've embraced the movement wholeheartedly. Which is good, because Amplifier's Echo Street is a fantastic album that deserved to be recognized. Though it wasn't quite on par with Weather Systems, it nonetheless displayed one of the best interpretations of the genre to date, and one that I find myself returning to frequently. More puzzling was their decision to nod towards Big Big Train's English Electric (Part Two), as opposed to (Part One). While I did enjoy the second half of the album immensely, (Part One) was leagues better than its successor. In fact, it was probably the only album that had a serious chance of swaying my opinion over The Raven as my personal favourite. That's not to say (Part Two) is bad, mind you—just that it was worse than part one.

It's also nice to know that the PMAs are beginning to recognize progressive death metal acts, even if they are on the fringe of what constitutes “death metal”. Though I'm not surprised they were nominated (especially after winning the Emerging Artist award last year), TesseracT also received a nod for their fantastic Altered State, one of the few truly impressive albums to come out of the djent movement. Though it's still not up to the standards that produced, say, Vildhjarta's måsstaden, it's still one of the first albums that takes advantage of djent's progressive roots, and it sounds all the better for it.

THERE WERE SOME LESS DESERVING ALBUMS THIS YEAR AS WELL

The fanservice to legacy acts turned up a couple of unimpressive nominations from otherwise fantastic bands. The Enid's Invicta and Marillion's Sounds That Can't Be Made both struck me as lacklustre, if still enjoyable, albums from bands very late in their career, and far from the best they're capable of. There was also the nod towards Spock's Beard's Brief Nocturnes and Dreamless Sleep, and while they're not really a relic from the '70s, they're still one of the few major names in the scene today, which makes me believe that their nod also falls into the "appeasement" category. And though I didn't think it was a bad album, the inclusion of Tame Impala's Lonerism is also a bit of a stretch. Though progressive rock is a vast genre, Lonerism never quite seemed to fit into it for me; it's a great psychedelic album, a great pop album, even a great rock album, but I don't think I could call it a great progressive album.

One thing that seriously bothers me about the nominees this year is that, while they're beginning to reach out towards post-progressive music, there are still no post-rock or post-metal albums to be found. This is a bit distressing, because near-perfect albums like Vertikal, Sky Burial, Pelagial, and 'Allelujah! Don't Bend! Ascend! have seemingly no chance in hell of getting noticed. And that's without even talking about progressive death metal. Though TesseracT did get a nod, let's face it, they're only death metal in the most lenient sense of the term. Albums like Between the Buried and Me's fantatsic The Parallax II: Future Sequence have almost no chance of getting the attention they deserve here. And though they do seem to be branching out into some more esoteric subgenres with Lonerism, it'll still be a while before, say, One of Us Is the Killer gets its fair shake. (And this is another one of those albums that might have been discluded by the ambiguous cutoff date, but man, it would've been nice to see Sunbather up there.)

THERE ARE ALSO SOME OTHER CATEGORIES

Here are a few of my idle thoughts on the other, much less important categories:

• Down from one last year, I have heard of exactly zero of this year's newcomers. Where do they find these guys?
• Riverside, Big Big Train, and Long Distance Calling all up for breakthrough artist? They're at least a decade old at this point!
• Most of the choices in the Anthem category were pretty forgettable, but Marillion's “Gaza” totally deserves the distinction. The rest of the album may not have been that great, but "Gaza" is a career best track.
• Also, Epicloud had a lot of great songs on it, but why the hell did they pick “True North” for a nod? That should not be allowed when “Kingdom” is sitting five tracks away. (Yes, I know it's a rerecording, and no, I don't care about the inconsistency.)
• A bunch of really cool concerts are up for the Live Event category, the weirdest of which is definitely Yes's Cruise to the Edge. Who knew prog people would like boats so much?
• Rush are nominated for band of the year? I love them to death, but what have they been doing this year, exactly?
• Thinking about Muse getting any kind of positive reaction for The 2nd Law makes me physically ill.
• A couple of interesting bands turned up in the Grand Design category: Hawkwind, 10cc, and Family, none of which I have bothered to listen to in the past year. Maybe I should change that. (Also, hooray for RiO!)
• Mikael Åkerfeldt seems to be laying low this year. I wonder what he's up to...

I GUESS THAT'S IT, REALLY.

This has been Sarah, your local prog snob, and join me next year when I complain that Kayo Dot's Hubardo didn't make the cut.

WHO SARAH VOTED FOR

• LIMELIGHT: nope
• LIVE EVENT: Devin Townsend’s Retinal Circus, though I felt really bad about not voting for Opeth and Anathema at Union Chapel
• BREAKTHROUGH ARTIST: Big Big Train, as an apology for not getting to vote for English Electric (Part One)
• ANTHEM: “Gaza”
• ALBUM OF THE YEAR: The Raven That Refused to Sing (And Other Stories)
• GRAND DESIGN: Thick as a Brick 40th anniversary
• BAND/ARTIST OF THE YEAR: Steven Wilson

Holy crap, has this summer been hot or what? Like, hot as in temperature hot.  Like, literally hot.  Which might be confusing now that Merriam-Webster and Oxford dictionaries as well as Google say “literally” doesn’t necessarily have to mean literally anymore. They literally changed the definition of “literally.”  That sucks, if anything, for this one reason alone:  It’s now totally feasible that a Kardashian sister will say, “I literally died” and not get made fun of on The Soup.  I am not OK with this. 

Speaking of people literally dying this summer, there was that one time a kid died at the Gathering of the Juggalos and nobody gave a shit because he was only one person out of thousands at an event where it is widely acceptable behavior by everyone who is not there to wish death upon everyone who is.  Juggalo or not, nobody deserves to die in a steamy tent, surrounded by scary clowns and Faygo-soaked hockey jerseys.  I am not OK with this either. 

Then there was that one time Kendrick saved hip-hop with his verse on “Control,” but everyone quickly forgot about it because Daredevil became Batman, and then Miley twerked on live TV and everybody went insane because a 20 year-old white girl did some 20 year-old white girl stuff.  This clearly means one thing:  By proxy, Miley Cyrus and her foam finger, with a little help from a soon-to-be washed up superhero, literally killed hip-hop, which was only very recently literally saved from dying.  Do the math – it works.  Depending on your definition of “literally,” the math literally works.  And this, for some reason, I am OK with. 

Word definers, dead Juggalos, Kendrick Lamar, Ben Affleck, and Miley Cyrus aren’t the only ones having a hot summer.  My shit has been cray-cray too.  For example, when I’m not putting out zines, riding my bike, watching Drew League highlights on YouTube while I’m at work, running the Tough Mudder, eating lots of grilled meats, shotgunning beers in a forest with my homies, championing The Challenge: Rivals II to anyone that will listen, getting quasi-arrested for graffiti, hate-watching Total Divas, getting married, penning scatterbrained column intros in which I summise Miley Cyrus killed hip-hop, or writing longwinded self-important lists of things I did this summer, I am literally stressing about stupid things like how there’s too many rappers.

In the Mixtapes department…

Kyle Rapps – SUB

In addition to descriptive terms like, “suburban hood niggas” and “Panera Bread,” the press release for Kyle Rapps’ SUB describes it as “a record for motherfuckers stuntin’ in the cul de sacs of the world.”  As an appreciator of good humor, I decide to give it a shot.  Sometimes it reminds me of Disposable Heroes of Hypocrisy or ‘90s backpackers but mostly it just reminds me that there is way better rap music that I could be listening to instead.  There are some notable guest appearances from the likes of Mr. MFN eXquire, Action Bronson, Murs, and Aaron Cohen.  Unfortunately for Mr. Rapps though, the best songs on the tape are the result of those features.  If you wanted to drop a track or two from this into a mix or a podcast it’d be alright, but otherwise you’re not missing much. 

Tree – Sunday School II: When Church Lets Out

Tree has a really distinguishable voice that is part soulful croon, part grayish growl.  There’s a lot of emotion in his rapping like he’s always on the verge of meltdown or something.  For the uninitiated it might not be the easiest thing to digest on the first spin.  The first Sunday School tape took a bit to grow on me but eventually it ended up being one my favorite tapes of 2012.  The second edition, When Church Lets Out is even better, and production-wise, more focused.  Although a number of producers contribute beats to the tape, it’s Tree’s own brand of “soultrap” that drives the overall sonic direction.  As expected, Tree’s songwriting is introspective and inspirational.  While that may translate to some rap fans as “not bangin’” there are some tracks that go hard too.  Particularly near the end with, “Tree Shit” and “White Girls.”  And there are noteworthy guest appearances by Danny Brown on “No Faces” and Roc Marciano on “Trynawin.”  The latter of which, is such a unique pairing, it leaves intrigue as to what an entire project from the duo would be like.  

Birdman & Rick Ross – The H: The Lost Album, Vol. 1

The H is comprised of songs that were recorded in 2008 and originally intended for a Birdman and Rick Ross duo album that for whatever reason never came to fruition…probably because it turned out to be terrible.  The only standout track is “Pop That Pussy,” which stands out mostly because it’s called, you know, “Pop That Pussy.”   This is throw away shit.  Don’t waste your time.  Yes, I feel pretty comfortable saying that from behind my keyboard.  If I find myself courtside at any Miami Heat games, I’ll be sure to wear a bulletproof vest though. 

Mr. MFN eXquire – Kismet

Kismet, which means “fate” or “destiny”, is also the name of the new tape by New York’s Mr. MFN eXquire. And while it may seem like an odd title choice for a tape whose cover art shows the emcee gripping a naked woman’s rear end in a pose that can’t be construed as anything other than standing coitus, it’s actually very apropos given the direction he’s taken things since his 2011 tape, Lost in Translation. Sure, the raunchiness and wild’n out aspects are still intact, but several tracks are dedicated to personal insights and human growth. On “Vanilla Rainbows” which apes Curtis Mayfield’s “Give Me Your Love (Love Song)”, the emcee displays his genuine love and respect for women. “Cherry Raindrops,” a tale of ill-fated love and all the struggles that go along with falling out of it, shows him being creepily honest, as he raps things like, “I kissed her on the spine and I kissed her thighs/I almost licked her ass but she started to cry.” Even the lone skit here, “She’s Not Fucking With Me” is a far cry from the blow-job-from-a-hoe-caught-on-tape one that appeared on Translation. This time around he and an unidentified woman are lying in bed, whispering I-love-yous to each other. For the most part, Kismet is dare I say, a kinder, gentler eXquire. That is not to say he doesn’t go hard in typical braggadocios rap fashion from time to time—see: “Illest Niggaz Breathin,’” “Tomorrow’s Gone,” and “Orbz a.k.a. Some Wise Quote Drake Never Said”—but overall, the tape is more on the personal revelations tip than anything else. eXquire’s flows and beat selections are as varied as you’d expect from a man who refers to himself as an “avant-garde hood nigga.” “Hoes I Don’t Remember” is the Willie Nelson “For All the Girls I’ve Loved Before” of rap songs, if ever there was one.

Joey Bada$$ - Summer Knights

Summer Knights is the latest from NYC boom-bap revivalist wonderkid Joey Bada$$.  This is his fourth mixtape (counting the Pro Era crew tape) since 2012. Over the course of 17 tracks, the emcee proves once again that he’s more advanced than many of his peers, and deserving of the praise heaped upon him.  The majority of the production is handled by Pro Era crewmates Lee Bannon, Chuck Strangers, and Kirk Knight, who acted in accordance to give the tape a cohesive resonance.  As I ride my bike around the city with Summer Knights bumping in the earbuds, I recall memories of summer days during my youth, listening to A Tribe Called Quest cassette tapes on my Walkman.  In addition to the previously mentioned beatsmiths, the tape gets a little extra mileage thanks to singular contributions from Statik Selektah, MF Doom, Oddisee, and DJ Premier.

Rapsody – She Got Game

After sifting through endless amounts of horrendous auto-tuned, hook-driven trap, it’s a rewarding experience when a skilled artist like Rapsody drops a new tape.  She Got Game marks Rapsody’s full emergence as one of the genres flyest emcees.  Even though the tape is ripe with soulful beats by fellow North Carolinians 9^th Wonder and Khrysis, and some guest spots from the likes of Raekwon and Chance the Rapper, she fully owns the project.  Showcasing her ever-flowing breath of lyrical acrobatics and impeccable songwriting, She Got Game is an album-worthy collection of songs.  She touches on a number of subjects—love, basketball, education, family, etc.—from a personal point of view, rather than speaking in hypothetical or metaphorical terms.  DJ Premier lends one of his signature cut-laden, sample-heavy beats for “Kingship,” which is one of the tape’s harder-hitting songs.  The pairing is so natural; I’d love to see a whole project by the two.  The only real drawback to the tape is that sometimes it goes a little too hard on the R&B hooks.  Well, that and Rapsody is a diehard Kobe Bryant/Lakers supporter; something I am just the opposite of.  All jokes aside, this deserves to be in consideration when measuring the year’s best mixtapes.

Spark Master Tape – The #SWOUP Serengeti

I won’t lie; I have no idea who the fuck Spark Master Tape is.  In addition I have no idea why he misspells, hashtags, and all caps a word that sounds exactly like “swoop."  (A Twitter search shows all uses of #SWOUP are directly related to this mixtape.)  But what I do know is that this tape is absolutely tremendous.  Considering that I downloaded this based purely on the punk rock imagery alone, I couldn’t be more impressed.  There are all types of things going on here and the whole thing bangs.  Because all of the vocals are chopped and screwed, at times it’s hard to tell if who’s rapping; whether it’s the mysterious Spark Master Tape or if it’s samples of like, Busta Rhymes or MC Lyte or something.   Although it would appear SMT is a skilled emcee, he is also obviously hyperaware of all of hip-hops various stereotypes, as he and producer Paper Platoon exploit them to the fullest.  The beats are reverb-heavy, as if they were constructed amidst a thick cloud of sour diesel while syrup dripped all over the 808s.  As to the identity of SMT, I have no interest in playing the guessing game; I’m too busy bumping the shit out of this in my imaginary jeep.

Fat Trel – SDMG

A new Fat Trel mixtape!  Perhaps the exclamation point is a little overzealous, but whatever.  For unexplained and partially troubling reasons I get really excited when a guy who calls himself Fat Trel comes out with a new tape; the title of that tape is an acronym for Sex, Drugs, Money, Guns; and on that tape he raps about strip clubs, doing and/or selling narcotics, stacking paper, and killing dudes.  Admittedly I like Fat Trel for the same reasons I dislike a lot of other rappers.  Take for example the hook from “Shoot.”  It goes, “Who dat nigga?/Get dat nigga/Kill dat nigga/Shoot dat nigga.”  And Miley Cyrus is the problem?  People that were mistakenly thinking this was going to be some deeply introspective story of how sex, drugs, money, and guns have negatively impacted the Washington D.C. community, in which he resides, are people that have never heard a Fat Trel tape.

In the Goofy Yet Clever Rappers department…

Check out this dude Freddy Flow from Chicago, IL.  He’s funny as hell, and definitely on the Paul Barman tip.  His delivery is on the oddball side of things, but he’s a very skilled songwriter. Plus he follows me on Twitter, which is a clear path to my heart.  Below are his latest two tracks "Constantinopli" and "Czech Your Yugo," as well as links to his various social media.

Facebook - Twitter - YouTube - WordPress

In the Shameless Self-Promotion department…

My partners in crime and I have somehow managed to put out two more new zine issues – HotDogDayz #4 and The Soda Killers #4.  Both are available for free, trade, or donation.  HotDogDayz is purely goofy stuff – dating profiles, art, photos, news clippings, jokes, found items, rail monikers, etc.  The Soda Killers is a Punk, Rap & Graffiti labor of love.  This issue rounds up the best hip-hop releases of 2012 and has some think pieces on Neutral Milk Hotel and Slayer, as well as some punk show reviews and graff flicks.

If you want to get into any of it, shoot me an email at: [email protected]

Or hit me up on Twitter at: @OMG_NOB.  I (almost) always follow back!   

The NINES Festival

Devens, MA  

I must admit I was anxious to attend this festival when I heard the lineup featured none other than Shuggie Otis. I have had this compelling urge to see Shuggie rip through the guitar riff in Strawberry Letter #23 for some time now and while he played a shortened version of the tune he did feature the riff and killed it.

The Nines Festival was advertised as a multi-arts, multi-stage festival held 35 miles west of Boston on Willard Field in Devens that featured a diverse lineup of amazing musicians, comedians, and showcased the works of visual artists. The festival grounds were set up beautifully with a massive main stage, smaller second stage, a full blown Comedy tent and various pieces of artwork dispersed throughout the grounds. The centerpiece of the festival was the world's longest playable xylophone that kept people playing throughout the entire day. Also included in the setup were an assortment of tents displaying various artists work for sale.

First up on the main stage were what I thought to be the surprise of the day. Walter Sickert & The Army Of Broken Toys, an eclectic group if I've ever seen one, fronted by the colorful Sickert dressed up in his finest regalia, he reminded me of Dr. John in his "Night Tripper" phase. The band has been called everything from "theatrical misfits" to "an exceptionally motley crew" and they wear it like a badge of honor. They hit the stage and being the first band on a lot of people that showed up late missed them. While the crowd was small at that time they grabbed everyone's attention and brought us all along for the ride.

Boston's Air Traffic Controller took to the smaller stage and delivered a rousing set of rootsy pop. Props go out to the festival organizers for keeping to a tight schedule, there was always live music on stage during the entire show.

Shuggie Otis was next up delivering a tasty set of rarities from his album Inspiration Information that is now part of a two album release containing newer material and the entire 1974 release. Shuggie seemed at ease with the crowd and his new band featuring two brothers Jon and Nick on percussion and drums as well as his cousin Swang Stewart on keys and killer horn section as well. Shuggie had just finished Strawberry Letter #23 and was going to start another song when, due to the tight schedule had to stop.

Matt Pond, who has been recording and touring for years as Matt Pond PA pulled off a great set of catchy pop songs and kept the crowd into it as well as great sets by Walk Off The Earth, Dr. Dog, Delta Spirit (fresh from the studio) and the closers Explosions In The Sky. Overall the festival was a success in my eyes and hopefully another is in the planning stages for next year. As I said earlier the layout was well thought out, only changes I would make would be to add another day, offer camping as well as longer sets for the bands that can support it.

It's a tray in a hotel room, fairly unremarkable when put back to basics. The tray is littered with cigarettes, beer bottles, a can of coke, a crumpled McDonald's burger wrapper and a lonely bottle of Evian. It's a curious scene: the items on the tray are in a neat kind of disarray. Underneath this black and white photograph is the legend "Graham's hotel room, Tokyo, 1995". Meanwhile the sound of "For Tomorrow" from Blur's 1993 album Modern Life is Rubbish fills the room.

The Graham in question is Blur guitarist Graham Coxon, and Blur 21: The Exhibition is another facet of the celebrations of 21 years since the band released their 1991 debut Leisure, following on from their mammoth box set also entitled Blur 21. The photos on display at the exhibition span from the band's beginning in 1990 up to 2012, featuring photos taken by acclaimed music photographers Pennie Smith and Kevin Cummins, among others.

The exhibition is housed in the Irish Museum of Modern Art in the run up to Blur's performance there on 1 August. Blur as a band have always been mindful of their artwork, perhaps more so than other bands. Guitarist Graham Coxon studied art at Goldsmiths College in London, while bassist Alex James described how much he enjoyed spending time in the Tate Modern as a student in his autobiography Bit of a Blur. All of this just goes to show that IMMA is a more fitting venue for Blur than might originally have been assumed.

The exhibition is like a Blur treasure trove. A large print of their iconic "British Image 1" photograph, which caused ructions when it was first taken for fear that it was xenophobic, sits in the grand fireplace. In the centre of the exhibition is a glass case displaying the different prototypes for the Blur logo (they unquestionably chose the best one) and just across from this is a series of photographs taken at Click Studios in London in 1993. The four photos, portraits of each band member taken against a striking blue background, stand out almost immediatly from the centre of the room. While Dave Rowntree, Damon Albarn and Alex James' portraits all look similar, Graham Coxon is looking downwards and as a result of this casts a sombre looking shadow around his face.

It's interesting, you can see the beginning of Blur: studenty, sitting on the tube, all of them wearing a uniform of Doc Martens; the middle and unravelling of the band: Coxon appearing separately from the band, looking either disinterested or unhappy in photos with the band; to the new decade of Blur: walking around backstage at Glasontonbury, posing for group photos in Manchester, and looking so into the music they're playing that you'd almost forget that they ever even broke up.

The more recent photos, taken when the band were onstage shortly after they reunited, take on a different resonance when you can see where it all began and the points where the band didn't seem to be as connected as they used to be. Fundamentally you can see that they are still the same band that got the tube home after rehearsing all night, in the recording studio that Damon worked in as a tea boy, because that was the only time they could get studio time cheaply, and that they are still comprised of the same bassist and guitarist who lived in a squat in New Cross because they couldn't afford to pay rent. The band look happiest in the photos where they're playing live, and it's the capturing of these changes in the life of Blur as band that make these images so significant.