Humanz

If you’re a fan, you won’t be disappointed. ... If you’re new to the zoo, prepare for a 20-track musical trip you won’t forget in a hurry.

Humanz is a giddy celebration of unity in difference, the sound of eccentrics, weirdos, outsiders and freaks partying together in defiance of convention. It is music where anything goes, as long as it’s got a groove and a heart.

This is intelligent party music, but it’s also headphone listening. Production is manic and plays at an attention deficit (though really these songs are crafted with a mandala-concentration, rich in samples, styles, and sonic layering).

From the hyperactive ‘Momentz’, which sees De La Soul returning to the fold once more, to the creepy, intense Grace Jones-featuring ‘Charger’, Humanz is by far the weirdest Gorillaz album ever released, and a struggle to get through in one sitting. There’s a certain cohesion here though, largely focused around dissatisfaction and rallying together.

Humanz’s flaw is what gives it its energy: like the scattered flashes of (mis) information flying out from every handheld and household device, the album throws it all at you in one gloriously delirious barrage that has no real anchor. Richly energised and energising, it’s not only infectious for the listener.

The album seems pleasingly scattershot as it bounces from guest to guest.

The ideas are still coming in such abundance, it seems to occasionally prove a struggle to marshal them. There are substantially worse problems for an artist to have than that.

Though by no means as complete and satisfying as Demon Days or Plastic Beach, there are enough intriguing moments to make Humanz a worthy addition to Gorillaz’s cartoon universe.

Although it lacks the kind of Apple-friendly jingles that have made them such a smash, it makes up for it with palatably overarching political themes and sequencing that gives it the wildly entertaining feel of a circus show.

A boundlessly inventive and occasionally quite bonkers record that draws heavily on the input of its myriad guests. [Jun 2017, p.88]

They have created their most youthful album yet; a vibrant record which paints a picture of the near future so vivid it seems convincingly real.

So strange, it’s fantastic.

What Humanz lacks in memorable hooks, it makes up for in fist-clenching spirit--and We Got The Power sums that up best. [Jun 2017, p.113]

It may not inspire a revolution or magically fix the problems of the Trump administration, but it's a comforting and rewarding listen.

Humanz, Damon’s fourth record as Gorillaz, is not his best, but it didn’t need to be. It’s a comeback record that’s less immediate and sugary than Plastic Beach, less iconic than the self-titled or Demon Days. It is a party record that sounds like it was made at a party rather than for one.

Amid a series of electronic soundscapes that incorporate club, dance hall, R&B and hip-hop rhythms and textures, Albarn packs the album with songs that speak to the instability of uncertain times.

All of this isn’t to say that the album is bad--Albarn’s dialed in, and the guests are meticulously curated--but rather that it seems dwarfed by its role as part of a larger concept, the music mostly valuable for its possible real-world applications in videos, on tours, as action figures and video games, and all of the other manufactured, disposable pop culture ephemera for which Gorillaz was designed.

The lyrics on Humanz might be Gorillaz's darkest, but the album has lots of bright music.

Humanz is another strong entry in Albarn’s lengthy and brilliant catalog. At its best, it doubles down on what Albarn has done right all along while also pointing in new directions he can go.

Some of the band’s unique flavor still remains, as in the collaboration between Albarn, Pusha T, and Mavis Staples on “Let Me Out,” an unlikely match that wonderfully locks together. But without a unified sound or story to focus on, the album sometimes falls into the modern sinkhole of too many options presented at once.

When [Albarn] stays away from the light and the mic, Humanz shines.

With so many talented people involved, Humanz was always going to have its moments, and it is undoubtedly an engaging, intriguing and bold record. Yet when compared to Demon Days or Plastic Beach, one cannot help but feel just a little underwhelmed by the songs here.

Albarn's curation is sharp, and he keeps things moving quickly, so the energy rarely flags, even over 26 songs (on the deluxe edition). If it's an uneven LP, it's fairly brilliant by mixtape standards, which may be the best way to measure it.

Humanz is good, because Gorillaz are good, and it distinguishes itself by probably being the band’s most party-orientated record, which is great. But ultimately it feel like Gorillaz are now more curators than provocateurs, locked into a classy, comfortable groove.

A listener might be impressed by the scale of the experience, but ultimately there is something missing--intimacy?--missing. [Jun 2017, p.30]

All the masks and cameos aside, this still feels like a Damon Albarn solo project, a place for him to treat the studio like the welcoming arms of oblivion, and for us to join him.

With a bit more focus, Humanz could have been an essential part of Gorillaz’s narrative. Instead, it’s a scatterbrained frenzy of emotion--which is what’s to be expected of anything immersing itself in the chaotic, logic-free nonsense of the world post-election.