Cast: Damon Albarn, Graham Coxon, Alex James, Dave Rowntree
Genre: Music
Director: Toby L
In Irish Cinemas: 6th September 2024
In the closing moments of “Villa Rosie” and roughly 40 minutes into their “Live at Wembley Stadium” performance, Blur’s frontman Damon Albarn launches into a somewhat meandering monologue about Wemba, an Anglo-Saxon farmer who, some 1,200 years ago, cleared a patch of forest near the very spot where Albarn now stood. This seemingly trivial anecdote about the origins of Wembley may appear inconsequential. Yet, it serves as a reminder of the band’s enduring knack for taking unexpected detours and surprising their audience. Blur’s ability to infuse their performances with such quirky, unanticipated moments is a testament to their continued willingness to defy expectations and chart their course.
Performing at such an iconic venue had always been a dream for the band, a goal they’ve held onto since their commercial peak in the ’90s. Damon Albarn readily acknowledged that playing there fulfilled a long-held wish, even admitting that Freddie Mercury’s legendary performance at Live Aid in 1985 profoundly shaped his generation’s reverence for the venue. Given this, the two nights on stage were destined to be more than just concerts; they were celebrations of the band’s remarkable journey to this point—a journey marked by periods of turbulence and instability that have defined their last decade. Despite the challenges, these shows were a testament to their perseverance and the realisation of a profoundly cherished ambition.
Given the band’s tumultuous journey over the past decade, it was clear that these two nights were always destined to be more about celebrating the fact that they had made it this far despite their challenges and uncertainties. Moments like these aren’t meant for introspection or dwelling on the past. On stage, Albarn exudes a warm, almost fatherly presence, engaging with the crowd in a genuine and spontaneous way. Rather than editing his distinctive estuary English in post-production, he decided to preserve his playful banter, capturing his efforts to draw the audience into light-hearted exchanges.
But let’s move on to the music. The set starts with “St. Charles Square,” rekindling the true sense of optimism surrounding their 2023 comeback. However, any lingering doubts about their unwillingness to dwell on the past are swiftly shattered by a vibrant, almost frantic performance of “There’s No Other Way,” immediately followed by an equally intense rendition of “Popscene.” From this moment on, you can almost sense the crowd transitioning into a state of give-and-take, recognising that they won’t get any obscure B-sides from the Think Tank era. Instead, they’re treated to a setlist that, while not a straightforward greatest hits collection, feels like the one they would have dreamed up if given the chance.
Much like their music, the narrative of Blur’s journey is filled with recognisable milestones, but any in-depth analysis can wait for another time. Both phases of their career showcase a talent for blending melancholy with grandeur, as seen in tracks like “Beetlebum” and later, “This Is A Low,” where the buoyant energy of earlier songs like “Villa Rosie” and “Tracy Jacks” still echoes, albeit with a more reflective twist. While we expect our pop stars to entertain, this doesn’t mean they should lose their humanity. In the closing moments of “Under The Westway,” Albarn breaks down in tears, revealing a raw emotionality that transcends mere performance. For a brief moment, it becomes something more profound than entertainment. There’s also a treat for those interested in the band’s history. Despite being rarely performed in the last decade, “Country House” makes a return, following the equally polarising “Parklife,” complete with the unmistakable presence of Phil Daniels.
The closing stages of the concert are like a shared victory lap for both the band and the audience. They are having once detonated Britpop, “Song 2” bursts free from the confines of overfamiliarity, delivering an electrifying performance. The encore bridges the gap with “This Is A Low,” followed by the energetic “Girls and Boys,” and later, a heartwarming version of “Tender,” accompanied by the London Gospel Choir, where strangers exchange hugs in the crowd. After a powerful rendition of “The Narcissist”—arguably their best contemporary track—Blur closes with the grand, meta embrace of “The Universal,” sending fans off to face the two-hour queue for the Underground. Ironically, Blur now feels like a side project for its members, overshadowed by other pursuits like cheese-making, solo careers, or politics. Yet, “Live At Wembley” arrives when almost everything Blur once stood for, fought against, or got swept up in has faded from existence—a world where their natural adversaries have long since vanished. In this context, only the unimportant would begrudge Blur a celebration that is this joyful. From ancient farmers to city pigeons, sometimes history is best discussed right as it’s being made.
Overall: 7.5/10
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