Blur are shite. Worse than that, they are art-school barrow-boy fakers, blue-blooded mockers of working-class culture, flakey collaborators, lo-fi pretenders, indie traitors and punk sell-outs. And their feet smell.
Everyone, it seems, has found a reason to hate Blur over the last decade. Mogwai may be the latest and most vocal dissenters, but every previous generation from Primal Scream to Embrace has taken an obligatory pop at the million-selling Essex quartet. They have become one huge target, too smug, too successful, too damn punchable for their own good.
And yet, curiously, with every fresh attack Blur seem to grow in stature.
That which does not kill them makes them stronger. Damon Albarn claims, “What goes around comes around, and I think we’ve taken it on the chin and been knocked down a few times and got back up each time. It feels like we’re very strong.”
So Damon puts his band’s enduring survival down to sheer resilience. But we smell something more sinister: The Curse Of Blur. Call it voodoo, feng shui or some shadowy Faustian pact signed with The Man around the time of ‘Modern Life Is Rubbish’, but anyone who slags Albarn‘s Army seems to enter a sudden creative decline into commercial and critical limbo. Even more bizarrely, this process generally occurs after Damon has diplomatically played down the feud and offered level-headed words of peace to his rivals.
So are there powers operating here beyond the usual music business sniping, snobbery and rivalry? And should Mogwai be soiling their Kappa sweatpants at the dark forces of vengeance they have unwittingly unleashed upon themselves? We cannot possibly endorse such superstitious hokum. We merely present the following summaries of Blur‘s most bitter feuds and the curious fate which befalls their enemies.
Blur vs Suede Blur vs Tricky Blur vs Oasis Blur vs Pavement Blur vs Manic Street Preachers Blur vs Mogwai Stephen Dalton