SPILL ALBUM REVIEW: DAMON ALBARN – THE NEARER THE FOUNTAIN, MORE PURE THE STREAM FLOWS

Damon Albarn
The Nearer The Fountain, More Pure The Stream Flows
Transgressive Rercords

The Nearer The Fountain, More Pure The Stream Flows sharply diverges from Damon Albarn’s well-known recordings with Gorillaz, Blur, and The Good, the Bad, and the Queen. Originating as a group of orchestral works inspired by Iceland, the tracks on Albarn’s second solo album are less ‘song’-oriented and do not necessarily operate as 11 fully-formed statements. Its title is lifted from a poem by John Clare, and while the disparate elements of Fountain combine like poetry, what it means is a mystery.

Belying the black-and-white photography of its art direction, the noises on Fountain are vivid. They include pianos, Wurlitzer and Elka Space organs, Mike Smith’s show-stealing saxophone, brass horns, phantom chirping sounds, and what sounds like a drum machine in an old-school Casio keyboard. “Darkness to Light” chucks all of these, plus a surprisingly emotive Albarn falsetto, into a loungey waltz.

Albarn’s voice is rarely a powerhouse of expression. Its strength is the vulnerability in his languid delivery, but on the title track and “The Cormorant,” it backfires. Searching for the melody, Albarn sounds disembodied. Impassive lyrics reveal nothing about his melancholy pathos: “I think she knows I’m a pathetic intruder into the abyss/And I have watched her too from the stony beach…before the storm, elsewhere sometimes…”

For the addicted, the heartbroken, the sick, and those in pain otherwise, the word “medicating” instantly personalizes “Polaris.” Bereft of details informing what conflict is referenced or any resolution, however, the song is arrested in stasis when it could have been transcendental. “Royal Morning Blue” thankfully gives us a bona fide chorus and string-backed verses broken down from “Break It Down Again” by Tears for Fears. It’s an apt comparison. Roland Orzabal similarly composed the Elemental album with impressionistic grooves and unanswered musical questions, but for many listeners, Fountain will not coalesce quickly enough.

Hopefully they’ll hear the instrumentals, which harbor Fountain’s most daring music. “Combustion” is a brassy saxophone stonk of dissonance verging on funky. “Giraffe Trumpet Sea” could be the body of water where Albarn’s melodic sense disappeared, several nautical miles from a harmonium, a marimba, and an odd time signature. The majestic “Esja” conjures the dynamic landscape of opposing forces that is Iceland, as it does Fountain—bold, abstract, adrift.

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