Album Review: Blur - 21

21 years ago, Blur released Leisure. If the music industry, or indeed the music listening and buying public, were anything like today, there's a good chance it would have sank into anonymity, and Blur would have disappeared with it. Not that Leisure was a poor debut, in fact it was considered to be commercially successful at the time and remains a formidable first record, but it wasn't an indicator of what was to come. It could not have heralded their future as Britpop legends and Damon Albarn as the pretty boy face of a generation.

The 21 box set is the mother load. Not only are all seven albums remastered and presented in reissued vinyl format, but each album is accompanied by discs compiling b-sides, demos, live renditions, unreleased tracks, remixes and other odds and ends. There's something intimidating about being presented with this much music in one go, 21 years worth of creating, recording and performing – sometimes not with all members present.

Over the years, Blur have occasionally been reduced to a few cheap standbys, becoming known just as the band that battled Oasis for British chart victory, or that 'woo-hoo' song. When they began, they were a foppish four-piece with matching bowl haircuts (except for drummer Dave Rowntree, that rebel), fresh out of art school. Leisure wears its shoegaze influences on its sleeve, though infused with pop sensibilities that make songs like She's So High, There's No Other Way and Bang still hugely popular amongst fans and in the live arena. The beauty of the extra discs are revealed instantaneously, listening to the demo version of Wear Me Down, it becomes clear the band had an even denser sound in mind originally. B-sides like the soft Inertia and the fast-paced I'm All Over fall in line with Leisure's theme, though the latter and Mr Biggs give some indication as to the more Kinks-ian direction Albarn would take his vocals and lyrics. Add a rare live recording of Day Upon Day, and already the bonus material is surpassing expectations.

Modern Life Is Rubbish came off the back of Blur's first American tour, well-documented as being an unsuccessful venture that left the band resentful of the USA and their management. They came back to the UK defeated and on the verge of being dropped from Food Records, and with that impetus Albarn took charge, penning songs that seemed more inspired by the rich history of British pop and rock 'n' roll. Graham Coxon's guitar skills were on full display, crafting epic melodious songs. The bombast of For Tomorrow summarises all of this perfectly, jangly guitar pop with an irresistible bass line from Alex James and Albarn waxing lyrical about Primrose Hill. Blue Jeans talks of buying air-cushioned soles at Portobello Markets, Sunday Sunday satirises the British family lunch tradition, there's mentions of barbecues in Villa Rosie; if there was an ode to living in Britain, it would be found on MLIR. Its bonus material sees Popscene in its rightful place, a song that until 2009's Midlife had never been catalogued in the Blur discography. B-sides including Bone Bag, Peach and Hanging Over are given a home outside of the CD single releases from 1993. Listening to songs like Badgeman Brown, heavy with reverb and dense guitars, it becomes clear that though these sounds were dropped for their second record, they weren't forgotten, as would be proven later on with their self-titled record.

Despite their efforts to reinvent Blur, MLIR didn't actually do that well in the charts. 1994's Parklife soon rectified that, spawning hit singles Girls & Boys, End Of A Century, Parklife and To The End. This record is considered to be Blur's opus, their finest moment, 52 minutes of perfect pop songs reflecting on the modern Londoner's life. It strikes a precarious balance between being infinitely sorrowful and serious (This Is A Low, To The End) and tongue-in-cheek amusing (Parklife, London Loves). Somehow it's also the record that produced the most ridiculous b-sides, including the horrifying Red Necks (clearly meant to be ironic, but hard to stomach nonetheless) and Alex's Song, wherein James' voice is autotuned to high pitch hell. Just as the title track on the record was tongue in cheek, so the humour flows through to the bonus material.

Now let's take a moment to reflect on Blur's trajectory. At this point they've released three albums with little more than a year between each, consistently reinventing their sound and maintaining a crazy work ethic of touring, recording and promotion. The stable hand of producer Stephen Street has ensured quality control and a steady development without losing touch of what makes Blur so unique; Albarn's voice, Coxon's guitar gymnastics, James' laidback bass work, Rowntree just staying out of everyone's way. Then Britain explodes. Cool Britannia is the talk of the town, Noel Gallagher's being invited to 10 Downing Street to meet Tony Blair, Liam's on the cover of Vanity Fair with Kate Moss wrapped in the Union Jack, and Blur are being blasted as one of the biggest names in the newfound genre of Britpop, alongside Oasis, and to a lesser extent, Pulp, Elastica and a host of other names.

Then came The Great Escape. There's no denying it's a messy record, jumping between hefty pop tunes like Stereotypes to the sad balladeering of Yuko And Hiro. Yet it was the record that sparked the Blur vs Oasis battle in the papers, with Country House, a song inspired by their ex-manager Dave Balfe, and the band's first number one. Albarn was entering a darker time in his life; fame was making his day-to-day life unmanageable, he spoke of being unable to walk to the supermarket without people singing his own songs at him, taunting him. His girlfriend at the time, Justine Frischmann of Elastica, had drug problems that were tearing their relationship apart, something that would be explored in 13. His relationship with Coxon was fracturing over creative differences, which would manifest in a huge musical shift on their next record.

Yet even the b-sides are more in the pop tradition of Blur's work.  One Born Every Minute is a catchy curiousity, part-social commentary, part-lament to life's fragility, with novelty horns to lighten the mood. The French versions of To The End are all a Francophilic fan could ask for, even just for Albarn's thick accent. Albarn's personal turmoil is best expressed on the Charmless Man b-side, The Man Who Left Himself, as he sings 'Work forever and still not be done/Close your tired eyes, no one knows you've gone'.  The live songs, recorded at a Mile End are absorbing, especially for a fan who wouldn't have seen the band in their younger years. Albarn's voice is higher and lighter than the more gristled undertones we've come to associate with him. Yet b-side Tame is potentially the best indicator of what was to follow, as Coxon was given greater control in the studio, leading to his love of American slacker rock finally asserting itself onto a Blur record.

Released in 1997, their self-titled fifth album reached the top of the UK charts. It contains their greatest hit to date, in terms of global recognition in Song 2. The record was proof that the band was bigger than the Britpop moniker that sat so uncomfortably on their shoulders. Where their counterparts struggled to move forward (see Oasis' cocaine addled Be Here Now), Blur made an alternative record that played to every band member's strengths. Beetlebum became an anthem with its grinding guitar riff, Song 2 still incites two minutes of aggressive pogoing when played live and You're So Great gives Coxon a chance to share his sentimental side with grit.

Blur weren't afraid of experimentation. They didn't fear rejection from the pop realm, thus they created Blur, a record that delves into dark corners, loses the clean production sheen of their previous works and picks apart personal and political issues without an instance of preaching. It is one of their most cohesive records, thanks to Coxon's insistence to make it sound lo-fi and lose the perfectionist touch. The b-sides are well known to most fans, songs like Bustin + Dronin, Get Out Of Cities and All Your Life were featured on various single releases. There's a bunch of live-in-concert tracks, and some live acoustic versions of songs that prove that the songs hold their ground regardless of production techniques.

It was only two years later that Blur released 13, a record born out of frustration, and the slow dissolution of the whole, with Stephen Street being replaced by producer William Orbit at the helm. Albarn broke up with Frischmann, crafting what is undoubtedly one of Blur's best songs in No Distance Left To Run. Coxon was preparing to leave the band, and the band were getting ready to ask him to leave, as his alcoholism turned him into an angry and frustrated performer. While that period of time in Blur's history is dark, devastatingly beautiful music was created as a result. Who could've known that years down the line, Coxon's resounding 'oh my baby' from Tender would be echoing out across Hyde Park, Glastonbury and every other venue Blur perform in nowadays. The aching is apparent in every song, in the hushed undertones of Battle, in Coxon's monotone words of 'do you feel like a chain store, practically floored?' on Coffee & TV (which incidentally has the best Blur music video ever, thanks to the little milk carton that could). The bonus disc here isn't overwhelmingly impressive, as is to be expected from a fractured time in the band's history, All We Want and Mellow Jam are both exceptional songs, and Music Is My Radar is well known to those who own the classic Julian Opie designed Blur best of. Otherwise there's a series of remixes and one strange synth demo of I Got Law, more indicative of where Albarn would be heading in his own projects, carrying a melody similar to that of Gorillaz' Tomorrow Comes Today.

Finally there's the seventh studio album, Think Tank. Coxon only contributed to five songs, one of which, Battery In Your Leg, stands as the record's highlight as the final track. The record was all about experimenting outside of their comfort zones. Think Tank took the now trio to Morrocco and saw them work with producers like Ben Hillier and Norman Cook. It was critically acclaimed, yet to the fans it spoke clearly of the end of Blur. Without Coxon it became Albarn's baby, though both James and Rowntree contribute backing vocals throughout the album. Now we can look back at Think Tank and see where Albarn was going, as he now stands as a man of many hats – operas, cartoon band, musicals. The bonus disc includes The Outsider and Morricone, both looks into the ways in which the band were working to tie world music influences into pop songs.

The box set is not just the seven records and their corresponding bonus material though. There are four discs full of rarities, bound to make fans giddy with delight. Never before heard Seymour tracks and demos from Leisure all the way through to Think Tank are presented. It's a delight to listen to the rough drafts of what would become boisterous pop songs or gut-wrenching ballads. The bare bones of the songs always exist, though a treasure is to be found in the Parklife demo, where Albarn takes on the verses now synonymous with Phil Daniels, delivered in a thick Cockney accent and much gusto. Also well worth discovery, Sir Elton John's Cock, a glorious ode to the man himself, along with a demo of Far Out that is far more energetic than the James' sung version that ended up on Parklife and Trouble In The Message Centre with a different set of lyrics. 2010's Fool's Day, along with last month's releases of Under The Westway and The Puritan even make their way onto this collection.

21 years worth of material, the rough drafts and the perfect pieces, and so many gems to be unearthed. A magnificent body of work, by a band that despite its past, continues to innovate, but remain cheeky Britpop lads at heart.