From the life of Leisure to inside the
As BLUR prepare
for 2009's biggest comeback, Uncut goes behind the scenes
of the sessions that produced their classic albums and reveals the
conflicts that nearly destroyed them.
Blur headline this year's Glastonbury for the first of their summer
reunion shows, it will be nearly a decade since the original lineup last
appeared together onstage.
The occasion will offer not just a chance to hear once again the songs
that made Blur one of the best-loved British bands of their generation,
but more crucially also mark a very public reconciliation between singer
Damon Albarn and guitarist Graham Coxon, who famously walked out on the
band during the 2003 sessions for their final studio album, Think Tank.
When that split finally came - with Coxon battling alcoholism and the
rest of the band increasingly disillusioned with their roles as the
Pearly Kings of Britpop - it seemed irrevocable. By then, the festering
acrimony that had soured their last days together had become
unmanageable, as we discover via the candid accounts of Stephen Street,
William Orbit and Ben Hillier, the producers of their classic albums,
who were often astonished eye-witnesses to the creative tensions, tears,
tantrums, drugs and wild living that inspired much great music and
simultaneously tore them apart, creating a rift that has only now been
Released August 26, 1991
Highest UK chart position: 7
Passing through the hands of no less than four producers, Blur's debut,
for Food records, is patchy. On one hand, "There's No Other Way" is a
blatantly-contrived indie-dance anthem, while the eerie, six-minute
"Sing" at least suggests Blur are capable of better, more substantial
work. Former Smiths producer Stephen Street guides us through the
STEPHEN STREET: I first went into
the studio with Blur in early January 1991, at Maison Rouge Studios in
Fulham. We did "There's No Other Way" - that was the start of what
turned out to be a very long working relationship. They'd sent this demo
down to Food's office, and I went down there to meet them. I remember
Graham was quite shy. When we were in the studio, he wouldn't play in
the control room, he'd sit bunched up in the corner by his amp, put his
headphones on and play. But he perked up every now again. Graham could
say things just by the mood he throws. He wouldn't be as vocal as Damon,
ever, but he could still get his point over. Damon, on the other hand,
was an extrovert, always going for it. If there'd been two of either of
them, it would've been a disaster. What struck me then about Damon - and
it's really always been the case, even now - is how driven he is. He
wanted to be a pop star, but he was insecure about his voice back then.
He always wanted to double-track it and have reverb, like Lennon - in
both cases, they didn't start off as confident as they became later on
in life. A man with a plan who didn't know what it was? Yes, you could
say that. They'd had a lot of problems with an old manager in the early
days, and so because Dave Rowntree was a little bit older and more
mature than the others, he was more in charge of business decisions.
I used to try
and keep decent working hours with the boys, there weren't any all-night
sessions. It was nice to finish about 10, go for a beer and unwind,
discuss the day, and one ahead. Graham was interested in that shoegazing
scene, and I remember going to Syndrome, that basement club in Oxford
Street where all the Creation and 4AD bands hung out. It was like
Goldsmiths Students Union bar [where Coxon and Alex James had met],
transferred to central London. I went down there with Alex, who was
about 21 years old at the time, to have a beer. Alex already had that
certain coolness - I guess you could say he was a little like the John
Taylor of the band. Was Graham propping up the bar with Kevin Shields? I
can't remember that, but Graham was more introverted, you could usually
find him sitting in the corner, smoking and talking.
definitely under the thumb at Food. There was no freedom to do what they
wanted, and that rankled. Bit by bit, they managed to find their
independence, but that was a way off from here. And thing weren't always
antagonistic between them and [Food label bosses] Dave Balfe and
Andy Ross. I think, to some degree, they were grateful for the chance
they were given.
Modern Life Is Rubbish
Released May 10, 1993
Highest UK chart position: 15
As a response to grunge, Modern Life...
showcases Blur's new aesthetic: an evocation of modern British life that
forms the template for their next three albums. Behind a sleeve
depicting a Mallard locomotive, Albarn sings about being lost on the
Westway, Sunday roasts and shopping in Portobello Road market.
STEPHEN STREET: When we started
doing Modern Life..., it felt as if the band were very much on
their last legs. "Popscene" came out as a single [March 30, 1992]
between the two albums, but it failed. They had to come into the studio
to get per diems every day, to get money to eat. There'd been a
horrendous experience playing around America, when they were constantly
being asked what part of Manchester they came from. So, as a reaction,
they suddenly kicked back against American music, which was huge at the
time. They tied their colours to the English flag and I remember Damon
saying, "This is the way it's going to be now. We've learned from our
mistakes. We've been to America and done out touring. Now we're going to
do things our own way." It was the necessary step they had to take, of
course, to get to Parklife. But, funnily enough, Damon didn't
dwell on the idea of Englishness in the studio. He simply felt it was
all there in the music.
He was still
writing a lot about characters at this point, rather than himself,
although "Blue Jeans" was actually him, talking about a day shopping in
Portobello Road. I do wonder if it's about Justine [Frischmann,
Elastica's vocalist/guitarist who Albarn had been dating since early
1991], too. You can hear it in the warmth of the lyric, and Damon's
singing. It conjured up a lazy day with nothing in particular to do in
Damon's life in west London. "It won't stay this way for ever..."
It's not the best life in the world, but it's not bad, and he's happy
with that. We had to record so many songs, because back in those days,
you had a 7-inch, a 12-inch, and two CDs. I remember sitting down with
Damon once and saying: "Do you realise how many songs you've published
One day, Dave
Balfe came in for a listen to the album and said, "It's crap, it's
commercial suicide. It'll sell to a few NME readers, and that's
it. "They were pretty taken aback by his hostility, but it did make
Damon go "Fuck you," and write two more cracking songs for the record,
"Chemical World" and also "For Tomorrow", which he wrote at his parents'
house in Colchester on Christmas Eve. The album came out, and I remember
them playing a lot of these songs at the Reading Festival in 1993, in
the Melody Maker tent. The crowd sang everything back to them and
I thought: 'This album's touched a nerve. And if we can hang on, and
make the next album cracking, it'll do the business.'
They were low,
after Leisure and "Popscene", but they loved being in the studio.
There was a lot of positivity, although they were struggling a bit
financially. Damon had moved in with Justine in her flat in Notting
Hill, so he wasn't that badly off. There was a general feeling that
we're going somewhere with this, this is good work. There's life in the
old horse yet.
April 25, 1994
Highest UK chart position: 1
Working titles originally included 'Sport'
and 'Soft Porn'. A perfect balance of brash pop ("Girls And Boys",
"Tracy Jacks"), although Parklife's highlight is "This Is A Low",
a meteorological-inspired epic as dramatic and changeable as the British
weather itself. Britpop's rallying cry, Parklife is released less
than three weeks after Kurt Cobain's suicide.
STEPHEN STREET: By the end of it,
they certainly got to enjoy Parklife's success. After all those
years of struggling - suddenly they found that everybody loved them.
They had money coming in, time to buy a property each. They were going
off to more parties, especially Alex, who was hanging out with Damien
Hirst and Keith Allen. But Graham was very strongly against all of that,
and it started a rift between him and Alex.
When we went
back into Maison Rouge in August 1993, it felt like we were being
allowed one last throw of the dice after Modern Life Is Rubbish.
There was a sense they were getting somewhere, they seemed happier, they
certainly weren't as shell-shocked as they had been back when we started
one of the first tracks we recorded. They'd played it at Reading that
summer, and they'd played it at the Astoria [June 4, 1993], too,
but they were thoroughly sick of it by now. Damon was trying to do the
vocal, but he was very unhappy with it, so they kept dismissing it,
putting it to the back of the queue. Anyway, they'd invited Phil Daniels
in to recite a poem over this one track, "The Debt Collector". Both
Damon and Graham were huge fans of him in Quadrophenia and Mike
Leigh's Meantime, and they were both very into their Mod culture,
too - Graham particularly, has always been a very sharp-dressed man, in
that '60s sense. In the end, Damon couldn't come up with anything for
"The Debt Collector", so it stayed an instrumental, but we thought, why
don't we get Phil in here to do "Parklife"? So, Phil came in with a very
long, straggly beard and long hair, looking nothing at all like a Mod.
But within a few takes, we had it. It suddenly gave the track life
At that point,
Blur had to demo everything to get authorisation from Food to record
tracks. Damon had already demoed "Girls And Boys", and when he heard
we'd started work on it, Andy [Ross] was quite adamant, "Sorry, lads,
you don't have permission." But we were convinced it could be a Top 5
single - and, of course, in the end, it launched Parklife. It was
a very bold step doing this, it could so easily have backfired. Graham
and Alex are quite vividly fighting against each other on it - Alex is
trying to be as funky as possible, and Graham's playing a great, moronic
guitar line. We had such fun making it. All of us in the recording area
were shouting: "GIRLS! BOYS!" Damon had to have a chart up, because he
got so confused which way round it was - "girls do their boys like
The band were
pretty much in their own little bubble at this point. Justine came in to
do the original vocal for "To The End"; apparently, she also came up
with the line "There's ants in the carpet" at the start of "End
Of A Century", after her and Damon's flat became infested with them.
"This Is A Low",
though, is what took Parklife to another level. The backing track
had been hanging around for quite a while, and we'd been nagging Damon
to come up with a lyric for it. Everything else on the album had been
mixed by then, this really was the last to go. Alex bought Damon a
present, a handkerchief with a map of all the shipping districts around
the UK. Alex told me that when they were on that awful tour of America
they'd all listen to the Shipping Forecast on the radio to remind them
of home. It just inspired something in Damon, and he came up with this
beautiful lyric, I think the night before we recorded it. "This is a
low - but it won't hurt you..." It was literally the last afternoon
in the studio: we were mixing the song, and he came in and did the
vocal, strumming the guitar very lightly as he sang. He was on his way
to hospital to have a hernia operation. He wasn't actually there to hear
it finished, and I got a very weird phone-call about 7pm in the evening
from him, post-op, sounding very drowsy: "Has it turned out OK?" It's
taken on a life of this own, this song, because of the way they've
played it live. There are two or three guitars going off at once near
the end. I was always impressed by the way Graham was somehow able to do
that live, putting the best bits from every single line and turn it into
a solo. I think Damon put off writing that lyric because he knew how
good the music was. It's certainly one of the highlights in Blur's
canon, it's their "Wonderwall", if you like.
The Great Escape
Released September 11, 1995
Highest UK chart position: 1
The last part of the English trilogy,
The Great Escape finds Blur in retreat from Parklife's
success. Relationships - both internally and particularly Albarn's
relationship with Justine Frischmann begin to deteriorate. Meanwhile,
the Blur vs Oasis "war" becomes national news as "Country House" pips
"Roll With It" to the No 1 spot. Any celebrations are short lived.
STEPHEN STREET: After Parklife,
there was a lot of pressure to follow it with another hit album, so
The Great Escape was made in a rush. We weren't able to focus in the
way we had before. For instance, right in the middle of making it, they
had to break off to get their Brits, and they kept going off to collect
this or that award as part of this ongoing success of Parklife.
But, at least, the band were calling the shots by now, which gave them
confidence. Balfe had been a sticking point in the past, but he was out
of the picture now [Balfe sold Food to EMI in 1994 and moved to that
very big house in the country].
The LP was very
much about Damon observing characters - "Charmless Man", "Mr Robinson's
Quango", "Country House", "Dan Abnormal". He was feeling dislocated by
fame, and the knock-on effect of that is that his song writing became
too impersonal on The Great Escape. He told me he'd be walking
down the street, and
Oasis fans would shout "Wanker!" at him. That said,
as a band, they were enjoying their success, things were going good for
them, but for Damon, especially, as the frontman, it must have been a
bit weird. "Country House" was one of those character songs, and much
maligned. What tipped the balance was that inane video. And I hated
The Great Escape's cover, too. There were wrong moves like that
being made. I think "Best Days" pretty accurately sum up how Damon felt
at the time: "All on their own down Soho, please take us home..."
This is him thinking, 'I need to let people know how I feel.' He was
weary of it all by now, the fame and the partying.
opened up about his feelings, there weren't many who could match him
lyrically. You can see that on "Yuko And Hiro". It's about two people
who are finding it hard to spend time together "We're never together
- I love you forever". As soon as we started working on it, I said
to Damon, "It's about you and Justine, isn't it?" It's very poignant
which is why I suggested it should be the final track on the album. It's
very apt that the very last song on this trilogy should be about these
two people, and the struggle that they were obviously going through.
They were also pretty sick of the competition with Oasis by now, and
they didn't want to have anything to do with Britpop any more. I
remember Damon saying, "I tell you what, life's too short. I don't want
to be remembered for the Blur-Oasis war. It's bigger than that", so he
completely retreated. We went to the Met Bar and "Some Might Say" had
just got to No 1, and Liam [Gallagher] came up to Damon and said:
"Fookin' No 1!" He was waving a finger in Damon's face, really bolshie.
and Damon just said, "We'll see, we'll see." The gauntlet had been
By this album,
the conflict between Graham and the rest of the guys was really
beginning to develop. Graham would bring stuff like Dinosaur Jr and
Pavement into the studio, and quite rightly felt that no one was
listening. But, you couldn't make "Charmless Man" sound like Pavement.
I'd say, "Graham, it's not relevant..." And he'd yell back: "Not
relevant!" The vibe was, let's keep the Parklife ball rolling.
Sometimes I had to lay down the law, if he was being particularly
awkward. Once he got so drunk in the Townhouse studio, I ended upsaying,
"If you've got nothing positive to say, Graham, go home." And he did.
Released February 10, 1997
Highest UK chart position: 1
Very much Graham's album, with something
of a ground zero to its title, Blur finds the band leaving
Britpop far behind to explore more experimental terrain, like
"Beetlebum" and "Essex Dogs". There is, though, the small matter of
"Song 2", a two-minute 'throwaway' that finally breaks Blur in America.
STEPHEN STREET: Blur had decided that commercial pressures
and writing hit singles wasn't going to be the main consideration any
more. Damon was much more prepared to write in the first person, rather
than about interesting characters. The mood in the studio was very
different to when I'd first worked with them. Graham had got used to
expressing his distaste. He'd fallen out with Alex as he didn't approve
of Alex's company in Soho. So Damon asked me to go and see Graham, to
talk about it. So I went to visit Graham in his new house in Camden, and
he just didn't want to go anywhere. He was very hurt, and he was
drinking a lot. That tension with Graham was important to the quality of
work initially, it kick-started things. And then I think, because he was
so disaffected, we thought: 'Let's listen to Graham more. Let's get to
the core of what the band's about.' It was a case of let's try not to
upset Graham, because if he was upset, he could bugger off, and you
wouldn't see him again. But once they got in the studio, they were fine,
like brothers again.
where everything fell into place. We went to Iceland to record for a
couple of weeks. Damon wanted to get away from London, and he loved it
there. He did his vocals late afternoon, and we went out for dinner that
night. When I listened back to it the following morning, I was nearly
moved to tears. Damon was very proud of it, too, it's the moment when he
defined his voice.
about heroin, which I didn't know when I recorded it. But one night
Damon and me were out in Iceland, coming back from a club in the early
morning - and in Iceland in mid-summer, it's starting to get daylight
again. I remember him telling me he'd perhaps taken some heroin, and I
got very angry. I raced ahead, and he realised he'd upset me. I never
thought he was the kind of person who'd need to do that. I said to him,
"You don't have to take that shit to be artistic. Don't think you have
to." He just stood there looking sheepish.
you can hear in Damon's singing at times was obvious, he'd had enough of
playing the game. It was the LP where there were no outside pressures -
only internal. Damon and Graham had been in each other's pockets for so
long, then you've got the relationships between their partners, and
themselves. Graham had an ex who was dating [Damon's future Gorillaz
partner] Jamie Hewlett, who Damon was now hanging out with. Damon
and Graham came into this record damaged, and were healed by making it.
Yes, it saved the band, though only for a little while, of course.
Released March 15, 1999
Highest UK chart position: 1
Working with the celebrated William Orbit
[producer on Madonna's Ray Of Light] appears to encourage Blur to
push even further into denser and more cerebral musical territory. Many
of the album's songs find Albarn baring his soul about his recent split
from Justine Frischmann, while Coxon's relationship with the band
becomes increasingly fractious.
WILLIAM ORBIT: After Blur, they wanted to go in a
different direction. It was as if Blur were experimenting with chaos.
There was a battle between Damon's more experimental direction, and
Graham's punk one, and Graham prevailed. If that tension had been
growing on previous LPs, it came to a head here. Damon gave an awful lot
to Graham, he was more than fair, and Graham just was not having it. He
was peeing on the parade. It was like, why did Graham even come? He
wasn't being shackled. You could see Damon was upset. He'd try not to
let it show, but he thought he was going to be hurt. Graham was showing
his power. When Graham looked back on that period, he said Blur had to
put up with him being "insane with anger"? Yeah, that sums him up. When
he was drinking, he would scare people, become a bit psycho. He's one of
the most all-round creative forces and colourful guitarists, for his
sheer range of emotion. And that applies to the whole of his life,
they're all the same thing.
But Graham made
it work, he kept the game up. We got tracks like "Bugman" because we
harnessed Graham's rage. Sometimes by subterfuge. Graham would play the
wrong notes, every time we were recording. Then, as if to say, "Just to
let everybody know I can do it..." every time the tape was rewinding,
he's do it perfectly, so I kept the machine rolling. "Bugman" showed
Graham could get people in the whole room to pay attention, like Jimi
Hendrix. They are the grittiest guitars. And, of course, when you've got
a roomful of blokes getting into playing this evil sound, he was loving
it. They were all smoking lots of cigarettes. It was loud and intense.
And then I'd go home for vast ProTools sessions, all through the night.
Most of the record was like making a movie - scenes sewn together. But
unlike a movie, it didn't have a plot.
And you've got
to understand, that the band were all experimenting with heavy partying.
It was all done in the heat of the summer. I can remember turning up on
beautiful morning to Mayfair Studios. It was 10am, and sleeping in the
doorway of the pub where he'd been drinking all night was Alex. It was
so different to what I'd expected. Jamie [Hewlett] was definitely egging
things on, taking them up another notch in the party zone. Believe me,
everything was intense. I listened to "Bugman" recently, and thought:
'Fuck! What is this? What on earth were we on?' You can be very drunk,
and random, and things can happen. People can go to a very dark space,
and surprise themselves. Damon's got some prescience about the things he
does. He was waiting patiently for us to catch up. Were his
nerve-endings exposed? That's a good way of putting it.
company were worried they'd gone off the rails. Andy Ross would do
anything to get in the studio, but he was verboten by Damon. But when
Damon said they could hear "Tender", they had what they wanted. Damon
knew it was a hit when he sang it. Damon and Graham were united on that
one. Damon wanted to bring in the London Community Gospel Choir for the
harmonies at the end. We went to Reykjavik to do part of it. There was
spiritual intent to that song, and in Iceland Damon was bright-eyed with
it in the studio. He was hurtling back and forth from the control room,
backing up his harmonies with spiritual zeal. He was talking in those
terms. Damon and Graham both believe in the power of transcendence
But then there
were moments when you could see he was shattered by the split with
Justine that much of the album is about. That emotional kaleidoscope
informed him. You can be running around, feeling your mojo, but really
you're crying. There was this explosion of music and emotion, and I
can't pick them apart. The split was a stimulus for him. I can remember
walking in Reykjavik behind Damon, and noticing how the woment would fix
on him, like a magnet going through a field of iron filings. And I think
Damon was feeling that. We had a very full-on experience in Iceland. We
drank a lot of alcohol. Damon seemed to be on a roll most of the time.
Feeling his chops and spreadings his wings. All of the things he was
about to do, like Gorillaz [whose debut EP, "Tomorrow Comes Today",
was released in November 2000], were bubbling under. Damon was
trying to examine what was going on. He was worried and puzzled about
Graham. The relationship with Graham was the stronger dynamic than with
Justine in making the record.
Distance Left To Run", though, Damon was in floods of tears as he sang "It's
over". He was very emotional. He was on a rollercoaster. Sometimes
he'd be very dark. He'd run around kissing everybody, and be brilliant.
And then there'd be some days when he would go into the pain, and be a
really hurt person. When he was crying as he sang, that was as deep as
he got into that sort of mood. It was something that you don't mess
with. Somebody's having an experience that's not even cathartic. He's in
it in the here and now. And when it's a musical thing, there's this
extra, beautiful dimension.
That wasn't the
only time he burst open like that. There were lots of times. He was
exuberant. Rollercoasters and spontaneity are Damon's nature anyway.
God, I remember when I first saw him, at a really muddy Glastonbury. He
was running down the front, took all this mud and was smearing it on his
face as an act of kinship with everybody. It was only after the show
that people pointed out that mud was probably descended of human faeces,
and it freaked him out a bit and he had his face disinfected. He's so
On "No Distance
Left To Run", Graham was fully supporting emotionally what Damon was
doing, through his guitar. They still had that bond. It was damaged, but
then you see a small thing - like not letting his guitar fall over,
little caring things folk do when they love each other and are looking
out for each other. And in something like that, however, awkwardly, the
bond would manifest itself.
Released May 5, 2003
Highest UK chart position: 1
Recorded in the wake of Gorillaz' success,
and with Graham quitting the band early in the sessions, Think Tank
didn't get off to a good start. But, incredibly, the band rallied round
new producer Ben Hillier (Elbow, Depeche Mode) and the resulting album,
with its mix of samples, African rhythms and electronica, contains some
of the most enduring music Blur have created. So far...
BEN HILLIER: The start of Think
Tank sessions were turmoil. Damon had had the success of Gorillaz,
and there'd been back-stabbing from the others. I think Damon was
feeling that Blur was a lot of hassle, and he didn't have as much
control over it as he did over Gorillaz. The battle with that record was
to make it creatively worth his while to work with the other guys again.
And, of course, that didn't really work with Graham.
I think it was
all over by the time we started that record. All it needed was for
Graham to turn up like Graham was, for everyone to say: "It's not going
to happen with him." He was the great white elephant in the corner. He
really wanted to leave, and they really didn't want him in, but no-one
had the nerve to say it. We were booked to start the record on a Monday.
And on the Thursday, Graham checked himself into rehab for his
alcoholism. I was adamant that we carry on. And that
the energy behind the record: we can do this without Graham.
left the band at that point. He came up from rehab for a couple of days,
and we did "Battery In Your Leg". It's very easy to tell when Graham's
into something. If he's really fucking angry, then his playing's really
fucking angry. I think he was elated with that song, because it felt
like it meant he could carry on in the band. But he very quickly became
destructive. It was a relief when he decided to leave, and very sad. It
had a very big impact on Damon, especially, because Graham was like a
member of his family.
A lot of the
songs on that record are about Graham. Damon channelled his feelings
into that album. "Sweet Song" was done when the legal negotiations for
the split with Graham were starting, and that was pretty horrible. Damon
would have been quite emotional when he sang it in the cracked,
vulnerable way he does. Like Graham, Damon can't fake it. The most
successful songs on Think Tank are sad songs like that. The
faster, more aggressive stuff was a relief from what was going on,
whereas the real truth was very sad. The momentum behind the record was
Graham, and the challenge to Damon to achieve a Blur LP without him.
There's a lot of Graham in the record. The after-burn of his leaving
Blur allowed one final Blur album? Yes. That's the best way of putting
It was soon
after 9/11, and the Iraq war was approaching, which was affecting Damon
quite a lot, because he was a big supporter of CND, and a pacifist. We
loved the idea of finishing the record in Morocco, an Islamic country.
And we needed to get away from London and the legal machinations, to
finish things. It was like some great team-building exercise, We built
the studio together, it brought everyone closer. In Marrakech, me and
Damon broke the back of the lyrics. Damon only saw sun if he sat under a
tree to write.
There were also
some musicians we really wanted to work with on "Out Of Time". Groupe
Regional du Marrakech were astonishing. While I was setting the mics up,
they started playing. All the chords sounded fantastic. And I looked out
at the end of the session, and none of them had headphones on! What they
were playing a
to, I have no idea. They must have heard it through the door. The
atmosphere fitted in with the idea that we're locked in this together -
a bunch of outlaws holed up in the countryside, us against them. It was
very much like the Magnificent Seven.
Then, when we
went back, we rebuilt the same studio in Damon's farm down in Devon, and
put the final touches. It was very dark. Horizontal rain for six weeks.
We used to go out on Thursday nights down the pub and get wasted, and
then all jump in the sea on Friday mornings to get rid of the hangovers.
We were all
really excited by Think Tank when it was finished. It never felt
to me like the end of the relationship. I thought because of the state
of flux that Graham was in, he could probably pull it around. And that
if they did become friends again, then they would almost certainly make
more music together. Because it's essential to who they are. Damon needs
Blur, he's a collaborative musician. And it's difficult, if you're
Damon, to find people on your level. I think that's why he got The Good,
The Bad And The Queen together; that was a challenge to him. But they
weren't ever going to replace Graham, and Dave and Alex. Because they'd
earned the right through the years to tell him to shut up, or support
him. Blur challenges him, still.
Typed up by Veikko's Blur Page