Graham Coxon
The Golden D
(Transcopic)
http://www.nme.com/reviews/reviews/20000605152222.html
Dad? Damon? Diana? Alas, the D in question refers, somewhat
prosaically, to the chord, so we can ditch any hopes we might
have held of Graham Coxon: Enigma In Expensive Skatewear, and
concentrate instead on the rather more obvious business at
hand. Namely, that the 32-year-old millionaire skateboard
fanatic and celebrity little-boy-lost Blur guitarist has
again nailed his hardcore post-punk colours to the mast, and
hammered them a great deal harder than he did on 1998's
decreasingly memorable solo debut 'The Sky Is Too High'.
If that album suggested that here was a diffident man with
several Fugazi bootlegs, a week's worth of studio time and
his own record label, then this one articulates a similarly
keen sense of desperation and general bafflement with the
modern world as 'expressed' by yer bloke on his skateboard
whose girlfriend is expecting their first child. Fatherhood
looms: quick! Document feelings on record! There might never
be another chance. Question it all later.
You could call 'The Golden D' a vanity project, but then you'd
have to qualify it with sharp Wildean wit: for it paints
crudely and schematically a portrait of the artist as messed-
up, disillusioned, self-indulgent twerp with an unhealthy
appreciation of the mid-'80s US guitar underground, whose
demo-quality doodlings (Graham plays, sings, produces and
paints everything. And all to a rather average standard)
should probably have never seen the light of day. But such is
the likeable lo-fi allure of Coxo, and such is the man's
straightforward professional competence, that most of his
record is, well, it's alright. If he'd taken his time, who
knows? It might've been listenable.
Just as the amateur psychologist could have a field day with
several of Graham's song titles ('The Fear', 'My Idea Of Hell',
'Fags + Failure', 'Leave Me Alone'), so the delivery and
execution of said songs says a lot about their author's state
of mind: basically, this is regressive, sinewy, sub-'Song 2'
nihilist grunge, cathartic and disposable. Music for jumping
down flights of stairs to on your skateboard, and little else.
More interesting are 'Satan I Gatan' and 'Oochy Woochy', the
former a streak of sampled glitchmanship and malevolent
riffage, the latter a playful exercise in slippery jazz loops
and hip-hop skiffle. Plainly, Coxon is enormously talented. But
equally plainly, he doesn't really give a shit.
So why should we? Maybe because this is musically fresher and
contains more ideas than the last Blur album. Maybe because
Coxon has dedicated a horrible thrash-metal track to his
favourite skateboarder, Jamie Thomas. Maybe because he's
covered, pretty amusingly, two songs by ancient Boston post-
punks Mission Of Burma ('Fame + Fortune' and the excellent
'That's When I Reach For My Revolver', which Moby once did
during his rock phase). But mainly, we don't care much either.
This is Graham's thing. On occasion, he rocks hard. 6/10
Piers Martin
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