Pop’s power is its broad appeal-the ability to invite listeners to discover more of the song simply because they’re happy to return to it again and again.
GORILLAZ LIVE VISUALS MOMENTZ FULL
Like a lot of the best pop, it hides its full purpose behind the universality of simple lyrics that unfold with repeated listens. It is, on the surface, a good-times record full of songs whose darkness is masked by Albarn’s seemingly affectless cool, a packed lineup of guest performers, and the overriding joy of solid hooks. Humanz, like the rest of Gorillaz’s work, avoids direct references just enough to skirt categorization as a purely political album. There’s nothing left but a low static hum by the time Staples calls the “land of the free” a place “where you can live your dreams as long as you don’t look like me.” A distorted scream clips in immediately after the last syllable of his verse. But by the end of “Ascension,” the pretense is dropped along with, for a few bars, that propulsive snare. The caffeinated snares and digitized bass drum bounce of “Ascension” sound cheery enough, but Staples’ chorus says something far less hopeful: “The sky’s falling, baby/Drop that ass ‘fore it crash.” Throughout his verses, he masks outrage at American racism with a narrative apparently about nothing more than trying to find someone to hook up with. Vince Staples introduces Humanz’s premise through a first song that rockets forward with gut-rending indignation.
An album responding to a modern world where fascism has returned to mainstream politics, where the worst-case scenarios of Donald Trump and Brexit have been realized, it’s still also a record of palatable dance tracks presented by animated figures. Their latest, Humanz, is testament to this bizarre strength. Over 17 years, across massive changes in global governments and seismic shifts in Western culture, a quartet of monkey-ish cartoons has persisted as the grinning face of our hopes and fears. Instead, Gorillaz have maintained relevance, continuing to release albums not just sonically but politically of their moment. The creation of Blur’s Damon Albarn and Tank Girl animator Jamie Hewlett, their gimmick seems like it ought to have made for nothing more than a disposable pop act-an early-2000s curiosity meant to disappear alongside nü metal and anyone taking Chris Martin seriously.
Gorillaz have always sounded more human than a cartoon band should.
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