I feel for those in the Oasis vs. Blur fight who try and argue for Oasis’ side. Opening an album with club classic “Girls and Boys” could solidify anybody’s place in Britpop history, but the delicate genre-bending and timeless lyricism make this album alone enough to throw the whole argument out the window.
1994 standout star Parklife by Britain’s sweethearts Blur presents a culmination of the last three decades in music. Taking synths and vocals from 80s New Wave and wrapping them up in 90s electro-pop production cast the album in pure, impenetrable iron. Today, Parklife has millions of streams across streaming platforms, remaining in the conversation of history’s greatest pop records. The album, and Blur in general, has stood the test of time, recently finding a TikTok niche of young fans once again swooning over frontman Damon Albarn. The “Girls and Boys” music video featuring Albarn directly addressing the camera has got to be responsible.
Albarn harbors a particular talent of using the genre he boxes himself in as his own mile-long sandbox.
This record is pop in the same way Björk is: the genre sits centerstage, but Albarn goes out of his way to cover it in traces of anything he can get his hands on.
We find bits of punk in “Bank Holiday.” Beach Boys-level goofiness in the lyrics to “Tracy Jacks” and “End of a Century.” The driving electric guitar and half-spoken vocals of “London Loves” screams Clash’s “Magnificent Seven,” and “Lot 105” closes this playdate with Albarn and his bandmates in a rocked-out toy box fashion. We can trace the band’s sound in every song back to its inspirations spanning across numerous genres. It uses music history to form a brand-new version of “pop,” and this contributes significantly to its evergreen feel. Parklife takes the time to truly engage the listener, something lost in this new era of prioritizing algorithms.
I think any (early to mid-2000s, at least) Albarn project comes automatically future proofed. Playing this record over and over again for this review felt the same as when I first listened to it eight years ago as an edgy, nobody-understands-me teenager. Parklife’s impact remains clear, and we can hear it across pop records of all subgenres.
Culturally, the album solidified Blur as a household name when it was released. The use of musical color is undeniable, but Albarn’s lyricism contributes to why it resonates particularly with teenagers and 20-something-year-old recent college grads now roaming their hometown wondering where to go from here (am I self reporting? Maybe….). The album’s theme embodies the international phenomenon of young adult detachment and immaturity in this era. Emo and pop punk began their upward climb in the mid to late 90s as they captured this feeling inside blaring guitars and overly-emotional language.
It was a time of reclamation for the post-Cold War youth, and while the States obsessed over Green Day and Blink-182, UK’s adult kids got the same message from pop groups.
We find pieces of this sentiment throughout the record, and the title track serves as the thesis for the entire album. “Parklife” describes the cyclical pace of life for the average unemployed youth, making it almost aspirational: “I put my trousers on, have a cup of tea / And I think about leaving the house / (Parklife) / I feed the pigeons, I sometimes feed the sparrows too / It gives me a sense of enormous well-being / (Parklife).” The whole album presents this feeling of eternal youth and joy in the mundane, a Parklife we can only hope for in this day and age.
