Parlophone
Cracker Island sees the return of Gorillaz, the animated birthchild of Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett. A loose concept record based on a utopian island getaway, Cracker Island features the usual A-list cast of collaborators but feels more centred around the considerable talents of Albarn.
Originally cultivated as an animated alternative to the boybands flooding MTV in the late nineties, Gorillaz have developed into the Harlem Globetrotters of the music scene, no genre safe from the clutches of Damon Albarn. You could fill an encyclopedia with the number of collaborators Gorillaz have pulled in, drawing in talent from across the globe, young and old. Take their last album, Song Machine. On what other album would you see Slowthai and Elton John? The pantheon of stars can sometimes dim Albarn’s talents as he throws the spotlight around his guests, but Cracker Island sees him dip back into the hot seat. The stars are there, but Albarn is pulling the reigns, crafting some of his trademark melancholy melodies.
The feature-heavy nature of their albums can make them hard to pin down. Despite the sheer weight of talent and diversity, Song Machine was surprisingly cohesive, while Humanz suffered from being too bloated. Cracker Island is more reminiscent of the understated and underrated The Now Now, though with a less minimalist sound. However, it is elevated by the sheer talent of Albarn’s guest stars, with Stevie Nicks representing one of his biggest coups. Cracker Island doesn’t reach the heights of 2010’s Plastic Beach as a concept record, but that’s because the concept sometimes seems rather loose.
The album was partially influenced by Damon Albarn reading an anthology of utopias. Cracker Island represents this utopian getaway but with a dystopic twist, where two cults exist alongside each other uneasily. The concept seems vague and disconnected at points, disappearing and reappearing at points. After being introduced to “a made-up paradise” on the title track, it feels like Albarn is preparing to transport us to another world, but some songs divert entirely from the concept. For instance, ‘Baby Queen’ is written about meeting the princess of Thailand back in 1997 when touring with Blur. ‘Silent Running’ with its mention of “searching for a new world”, and ‘New Gold’s “magic cove” alludes to the concept, but there’s no consistent theme.
Much of the album seems to centre around Albarn’s jaded feelings about the current world, a theme Bootie Brown taps into on ‘New Gold’, lamenting “Trending on Twitter’s what some of us are here for”. Technology has often served as a pertinent theme of Gorillaz’s previous records, and it’s a topic that crops again on Cracker Island, “It’s a cracked screen world”, Albarn sings on ‘Tired Influencer’. There are also several mentions of L.A., with the album inspired by a relocation to Silver Lake. L.A. is a sort of utopia in itself, and somewhere Albarn once described as his “least favourite place for the last 30 years”. The two cults competing alongside each other are more than suggestive of his apathy.
The lack of a consistent theme isn’t a criticism of Albarn. Cracker Island is eminently enjoyable and benefits from a cohesive synth-pop sound that makes it feel less rambling than some of Gorillaz’s previous efforts. Thundercat brings some driving bass lines to the lovely electro-funk of ‘Cracker Island’, while the luscious ‘New Gold’ sees Tame Impala bring some psychedelic shimmer and long-time collaborator Bootie Brown provides some sharp verses. Stevie Nicks’s iconic rasp nicely elevates the woozy bounce of ‘Oil’, giving Albarn’s poetic imagery some emotional energy. Adeleye Omotayo’s soulful tones weave neatly around Albarn on the cinematic, eighties-tinged ‘Silent Running’.
Albarn wisely gives global star Bad Bunny the limelight on the sunny, melodic reggaeton of ‘Tormenta’. However, Beck feels like a periphery figure on the tender ‘Possession Island’, a gentle piano ballad that could have slotted in on Albarn’s solo record, The Nearer The Fountain. Albarn stands out equally on his own, though the dreamy ‘Baby Queen’ suffers from some weak storytelling. The child-like bounce of ‘Tarantula’ is oddly engaging, while ‘The Tired Influencer’ showcases those lovely melancholic melodies that Albarn is adept at creating. ‘Skinny Ape’ is the highlight, starting as an acoustic number before this pogoing bass comes in and eventually descending into small bursts of hundred miles an hour hyper pop. It’s fantastically fun, a little bit silly, and immensely catchy, the blueprint for any Gorillaz banger.
Cracker Island may not nail the concept, but Albarn’s songwriting craft and the big names he brings on board ensure it’s an enjoyable ride. It’s one of Gorillaz’s more condensed efforts, finding power in subtlety, concise and coherent; it feels like a record Albarn has controlled. Nobody can do dark pop quite like Gorillaz, and they prove it once again on Cracker Island.