Exciting and forgetful, but with a disconnected purpose

It’s not often one band makes up the entirety of a genre. However, if you’ve ever had to struggle through the experience of trying to describe the Gorillaz’ sound to anyone, you’re aware of its possibility. The latest from Damon Albarn and artist Jamie Hewlett is a jumbled mess of many influences that clash and cavort together. The jumbled mess feels thrown together and frantic, at times even difficult to make sense of.

Possibly most confusing of all, it’s actually fantastic.

The long anticipated follow-up to “Plastic Beach” doesn’t feel as iconic – or even as polished as – the band’s sophomore album, “Demon Days.” The starting of “Humanz” is a recording and intro that would normally preface a total of three interludes, a similar model to past albums. However, there’s no solid structure to Humanz. Instead of sharing a narrative, Humanz plays like a doomsday party with an open mic. There is a theme, but it takes a second to grapple with, and not by fault of the listener.

We’ve seen it in horror flicks: The lone survivor stumbles out of the haunted mine with what remains of their car in the hand, takes a deep breath and begins waddling their way back to town. You can’t help but think “…How will things ever be the same after tonight?”

This is the theme of Humanz. Albarn attributes the night of the election as the influence of Gorillaz, but in a nonpolitical sense. Rather, his focus is on the betrayal of humanity as he perceived it: The society-defining shift in reality, that moment when a generation stumbled out, picked up their car part, and began waddling back to town.

The title itself, “Humanz” was originally intended to be “Transformerz,” but Albarn didn’t want to risk being mistaken for the popular Michael Bay movies. “Transformerz” plays thoroughly into the shift of reality; however, “Humanz” more effectively calls into question the current state of being, so the switch better matches the intention in the album.

The trouble is, the theme isn’t met by material.

The lyrics hit and miss, and it’s every bit intentional. There are moments from contributing artists where you can pick up on a general attitude. Vince Staples starts it off right: “The sky’s falling baby, drop that ass to the floor.” Somewhere between helpless and doomed, and not concerned with either. There’s political jabs, but the overall sense received is that nothing really matters. “Momentz” solidifies this notion by reminiscing on the important aspects in life. It’s not unlike a party anthem, with bizarre baritones to back it up (easily my favorite song on the album). The next handful of songs follow suit.

It’s actually a little overwhelming, like starting a meal with three consecutive deserts. Humanz really only feeds one specific energy, and though a good one, the tone seems wild. The trouble is that any heart that might have been prevalent with the emotionally driven contributions from the band (such as “El Manana” and “Melancholy Hill”) are in turn drowned out in favor of this energy. What’s left is more or less senseless. Albarn’s contributions specifically are often cryptic or vague (though he’s admitted he doesn’t write intentionally).

There’s some notable substance found in the latter third of the album, between “Let Me Out” (with the magnificent Mavis Staples) and the hauntingly beautiful (yet still peculiar) “Hallelujah Money.” The album even closes with a contribution to the two contrary perspectives of the album with “We Have the Power,” an exciting and heartwarming rally piece. However, the trouble is that so much of the album is spent disregarding purpose that the late contribution to that cause falls flat.

It’s Gorillaz, in their entirety: It’s fun, it’s unique and often thrilling. So, purpose isn’t their strong suit. So what? It’s music to blast when the world is on fire. It’s exciting and forgetful.

Advocate Staff