The Fall

No, it isn't as good as that, but getting anywhere close is proof that Damon Albarn remains a musical alchemist, turning what could easily have been crude and leaden into something that often gleams like gold.

Made on an iPad during the band's autumn tour of America, this hastily constructed, bleepy sketchbook of a record is a delight.

Though there's no smash hit leaping out, with its consistent unity of atmosphere, The Fall is the most cohesive Gorillaz album yet.

Packaged together here, The Fall does not feel like a proper Gorillaz album, but more like a musical scrapbook of the tour. Fortunately for us, even Damon's scraps are worthy of a casual listen.

So there aren't any retreads of 'DARE' or 'Clint Eastwood' but it is a stunning album from start to finish.

While it is impressive how much Albarn squeezes out of a piece of equipment that most would assume isn't up for the task, this is ultimately a tour-bus album--several songs are even named after the cities in which they were likely conceived.

Genius, as you know, is all about the detail. The backing vocal on 'Revolving Doors' – if you're still struggling with the 'song' thing, this and 'Amarillo' offer consolation in the form of two of Albarn's loveliest unfinished melodies.

An electronic album that manages to sound intimate, late-summer warmth turning to autumnal melancholy, and a cartoon band that suddenly seems a little fragile.

Albarn isn't trying to say much, but The Fall is pretty consistent, from the country-radio sampling dub of "The Parish of Space Dust" to the Rust Belt planet-rock of "Detroit."

There are a few moments of brilliance, like Bobby Womack's spirited crooning on "Bobby in Phoenix." Hopefully that energy will spill into their next effort--in a studio.

The strange, yet awfully satisfying, collection of tracks certainly won't attract new listeners to the Gorillaz catalogue, but synth-infused pop tracks like "Revolving Door" or "Hillbilly Man" will appease most listeners.

Mostly, this is Albarn making one for the headphone-obsessed in his fan base, a soundtrack for kicking back in the back seat and watching the world drift past.

The Fall winds up a little ephemeral, its pleasures as fleeting as the scenery passing outside the windows of a tour bus.

In form as well as content, The Fall is more like a pet project than a full-fledged release.

It shouldn't work, but ultimately it does, which is pretty much The Fall all over.

Given that Albarn recorded the album solely using iPad applications, and that this seems to be a ubiquitous suffix to any discussion of the album, it's difficult not to dismiss The Fall as a gimmicky concept album or even a shameless 45-minute Apple advertisement, but there are just about enough interesting moments here to dispel that cynical view.

It's a sequel of sorts to Democrazy, but sounds infinitely more accomplished--undoubtedly part of the technological point that he's making here. [Mar 2011, p.91]

It's your quintessential on-the-road/off-the-cuff indulgence, a sometimes successful merging of traveling-band existentialism and boredom-killing filler.

There are a lot of innovative ideas, some strong moments, but also a good amount of filler. If you give it a spin, though, you'll probably find some hidden treasures in these songs as well.

Despite the emphasis on atmosphere that pervades the album and that seems like a necessary byproduct of its creative technology, The Fall may be the most earthbound Gorillaz album yet--and at times, therefore, the most banal.

The sluggish vibe on The Fall was obviously part of Albarn's intention in creating a meandering sonic travelogue, but you end up wishing he'd pressed the gas pedal a little harder.

It opens the door to tantalising, exciting possibilities, but it's also fragmented, distracted and indulgent.

Strictly speaking, it's a Gorillaz album in name only. You could commend Albarn on one hand, but then slap him with the other; the use of a 'rolling studio' and the latest in technology is inspired, but it ultimately represents the downfall of the album.