Graham Coxon

Five records into a solo career, and at last Graham Coxon's willing to admit, or remember, he used to be in Blur--y'know, a pop band. Up till now his output's been so impenetrably artsy-fartsy, full of slack-ass no-fi indie rawk and mopey country-blues, or what the kids call "unlistenable." I'd...

By Robert Wilonsky

July 15, 2004

[
        {
          "name": "Air - MediumRectangle - Inline Content - Mobile Display Size",
          "component": "18855504",
          "insertPoint": "2",
          "requiredCountToDisplay": "2"
        },{
          "name": "Editor Picks",
          "component": "17105533",
          "insertPoint": "4",
          "requiredCountToDisplay": "1"
        },{
          "name": "Inline Links",
          "component": "18349797",
          "insertPoint": "8th",
          "startingPoint": 8,
          "requiredCountToDisplay": "7",
          "maxInsertions": 25
        },{
          "name": "Air - MediumRectangle - Combo - Inline Content",
          "component": "17105532",
          "insertPoint": "8th",
          "startingPoint": 8,
          "requiredCountToDisplay": "7",
          "maxInsertions": 25
        },{
          "name": "Inline Links",
          "component": "18349797",
          "insertPoint": "8th",
          "startingPoint": 12,
          "requiredCountToDisplay": "11",
          "maxInsertions": 25
        },{
          "name": "Air - Leaderboard Tower - Combo - Inline Content",
          "component": "17105535",
          "insertPoint": "8th",
          "startingPoint": 12,
          "requiredCountToDisplay": "11",
          "maxInsertions": 25
        }
      ]

Five records into a solo career, and at last Graham Coxon's willing to admit, or remember, he used to be in Blur--y'know, a pop band. Up till now his output's been so impenetrably artsy-fartsy, full of slack-ass no-fi indie rawk and mopey country-blues, or what the kids call "unlistenable." I'd sell my copies of The Golden D and Crow Sit on Blood Tree to a used CD store, only I don't think there'd be any takers even at half off the import price tag. But this one's a keeper, not because it sounds like Blur (though it does, in spades) but because it sounds like a man who stopped running from his past long enough to catch his breath and reconsider his journey down Footnote Lane. Hence the collection of a dozen tuneful tunes produced by longtime Blur (and Smiths) associate Stephen Street; hence the nods not only to his past band ("Bittersweet Bundle of Misery" sounds like a wistful redo of "Coffee & TV") but also bands past ("Hopeless Friends" shakes like early Who; "Bottom Bunk" sways like mid-era Kinks). Coxon wrote everything and plays damned near every instrument. The only guests are a backup singer, a keyboard player and a string quartet, invited to add a little beautiful, rainy-day gloom ("All Over Me," "Ribbons and Leaves") to the blissful glam of songs that rock without rolling over and playing dud.

Become A Member

BEFORE YOU GO...
Can you help us continue to share our stories? Since the beginning, Dallas Observer has been defined as the free, independent voice of Dallas — and we'd like to keep it that way. Our members allow us to continue offering readers access to our incisive coverage of local news, food, and culture with no paywalls.