Gorillaz – The Mountain

Both Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett lost their fathers within ten days of each other last year, a fact that — they say — contributed towards the ninth Gorillaz album’s somewhat morose feel in places. Even though it’s decades on from their debut purple patch, ‘The Mountain’ stands up against the best ‘Demon Days’ material. Albarn himself is not just vocalist and multi-instrumentalist — he’s clearly inspirational when bringing diverse musicians and artists together, a laidback conductor and alchemist able to bring out fine turns in his hyper-varied pals — old, new, and departed. Only he has the foresight, for example, to authentically offset the vocals of Mumbai fusionist Asha Puthli with rapper Black Thought from The Roots. 

‘The Happy Dictator’, featuring Sparks, takes a pop at you-know-who, Albarn again seemingly reprising his megaphone-brandishing vox style that’s a constant throughout the album, before hymnal ‘The Hardest Thing’ begins with some looped words from late percussion genius Tony Allen. Albarn comes across like an aching late-period Bowie as he sings “The hardest thing is to say goodbye to someone you love”, joined by parping trumpets and celestial choral voices before that archetype is repeated in whistling radio-friendly recent single ‘Orange County’ — perhaps the happiest song you’ll hear about death all year. That happy whistling earworm sticks in the head as Black queer Illinois poet Kara Jackson weaves verses amongst Damon’s “Hardest thing” refrain. And the quality guests keep coming. The magnificent Idles turn up on ‘The God Of Lying’, singer Joe Talbot working his way through a street-real tale in a diffuse woozy hip-hop style. It’s another highlight in an album stuffed full of them. 

On ‘The Empty Dream Machine’, Albarn again seems to channel David Bowie, drawing a line from his own solo effort ‘Polaris’ and even Blur’s ‘The Universal’ through some Bowie ‘Blackstar’-era material. A hypnotic chiming bell, some judicious sitar from Anoushka Shankar, some lilting Johnny Marr guitar and languid swelling background instrumentation are joined by rapper Black Thought in the second half for some conscious rhymes that shouldn’t fit but do — a multi-layered triumph. And we’re only halfway through.

Argentine rapper Trueno is paired with deceased D12 member Proof from the unreleased archives to ruminate on the afterlife on seven minute epic ‘Manifesto’. ‘Plastic Guru’ explores religion (“I believe in the plastic guru who lives on the mountain”) in a beats-driven tableau of sitar (Anoushka Shankar again), keys and a chorus of diverse choral voices. And then another dead person is pulled from the vaults. The mountain is again evoked by Albarn and more choral voices in the intro before the late Mark E. Smith — who had one of the most recognisable voices in modern music, who could mistake that distinct Manc drawl? — pipes up to snarl “Delirium” in his inimitable way.

Most albums would be happy to cap off the aforementioned ten tracks of quality and distinction, but Albarn still has more in his locker. A jaunty ‘Damascus’ has Syrian singer Omar Souleyman vocally duelling with the clever wordplay of US rapper Yasiin Bey, formerly known as the mighty Mos Def. ‘The Shadowy Light’ is another fine multi-faith spiritual lament, while ‘Casablanca’ brings together guitar and bass heroes Johnny Marr (of The Smiths) and Paul Simonon (of The Clash) for another downtempo rumination on death. And closing couplets ‘The Sweet Prince’ and ‘The Sad God’ are contemplative finales that maintain the themes of life, death and — of course — the mountain to tie it all together.  Albarn’s genius is pulling in all these disparate collaborators and funnelling the roving revue into a coherent whole. ‘The Mountain’ just gets better and better with each listen. It’s rich, inspired, affecting, and pretty damn amazing — this is perhaps the most complete Gorillaz album yet.