I wanted to explain something that was really profound for me and had a massive effect on my life 15 years ago. You talk on the album about your past use of heroin. I don’t care what he thinks, to be honest with you.’ Of course he’d say that, because it was a Labour conceit. It’s a tapestry that is unfolding endlessly. How does it make you feel when David Cameron says that ‘multiculturalism has failed’? You still live in London, one of the most ethnically diverse places in the world.
The older ones would be mortified if I transformed into a character now.’ It’s a side of me that’s never been very public. I eat with my mouth open: I’ve got as many bad habits as anyone else! I also do loads of funny voices and characters that all the kids in my family have grown up with. ‘I do this really annoying thing when I’m watching telly where I’ll sit there trying to pull out a hair from my beard. What else do you do that embarrasses her? ‘Every time school holidays start, it feels like work is finished and I can take a bit of a holiday.’ I walk around in my pants, which my daughter finds highly embarrassing. I’m not taken very seriously, in a good way. What’s it like living with a teenage daughter? I just enjoy looking someone in the eye more.’ Is it not getting to a somewhat manic level? I’m not in fear of this stuff, for the record. ‘When I watch my daughter on Snapchat, almost every single syllable is accompanied by her sending a facial expression. Where are you getting all this material from exactly? Much of ‘Everyday Robots’ seems inspired by the pervasive influence of the internet, but you don’t do social media. Being an attractive person is something you can’t possibly be conscious of. I don’t do what I do by accident, I do it by necessity. It’s an egocentric project, in the true meaning of the word!’Īre you egocentric? It must be hard not to be if people are so attracted to you. We agreed from the start that it would be a really melancholic and introspective album. ‘The blunt answer is that Richard Russell asked me to make it. What made you choose this point in your career to release your first solo album? Who cares? It’s just heartening to know that a national icon wanders round the house in just his pants. Maybe it’s the after-effects of a colossal bender (timed to coincide with his 14-year-old daughter’s half-term). Maybe it’s because he’s kept schtum for so many years. It’s almost too perfect, in fact: today Damon is oversharing in all directions. These should be perfect conditions to discuss ‘Everyday Robots’, the 46-year-old’s first solo album and a deliberate attempt to lay himself bare, from his childhood in Leytonstone to the complications of having ‘a cheating heart’. I suspect he’s prone to teary hangovers? ‘Oh absolutely,’ he replies, with a stare and a moist gob of egg on his shirt. Today, though, he’s a hero who looks like he might cry into his canteen breakfast. When Blur roused Hyde Park to celebrate the end of the 2012 Olympics, it felt like national hero status had finally been conferred on their frontman. Albarn thrived behind the cartoon façade of Gorillaz, becoming a global player and showing how his remarkable songwriting could transfer across seemingly endless genres. A more humble and earnest musician has since emerged. Yet his brashness, his conflicting bookish v blokish persona and the hubris of ‘the battle of Britpop’ with Oasis had turned many against him by the end of the ’90s. Blur’s ‘Parklife’ (released 20 years ago this week) made Albarn a huge star.
After two decades as a guarded British cultural icon, Damon Albarn may finally be opening up. What is surprising, however, is the honesty that follows. It’s hardly a scoop to find a rock star with a debilitating hangover. ‘I’m going to be a nightmare today’ is his early forecast. The only thing sharp about him is his suit, matched by sunglasses to cover bloodshot eyes. This stadium-rousing frontman and generational poster boy is a gibbering rag doll of a man when I approach him, standing awkwardly in a long corridor like a naughty child sent out of class. It’s 10am at a rehearsal studio in north London and Damon Albarn is hanging on for dear life. Damon Albarn | Time Out London – April 2014
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