During junior high, a large portion of my spare time was spent at the mall. It was here that my core group of friends (Mitchell, Ryan and I) were able to experience a small taste of freedom for a few hours until one of our parents picked us up and returned us to their home; at this time we would usually spend the night. The freedom afforded by these trips offered many opportunities for assorted wayward acts that included but were not limited to spoiling our dinner in the food court (although we seemed to frequent the Scotto’s Pizza located upstairs so, by Mallrats logic, that really would not be considered part of the food court), re-arranging the large potted plants which were generously amended with wheels allowing them to be easily pushed by twelve year olds and misusing the payphones by making prank phone-calls to a girl named Tracy who we had met at a school dance held in the school Mitchell’s mother taught in. I, personally though, chose to spend most of my time buying CDs.
I was hungry for new music all the time and any spare change I came upon was scrimped and saved to the effect that I could purchase multiple CDs each and every week. My parents did not approve of this wasteful habit and so I took to fitting CD cases in my pockets. Due to their unfortunate shape and size, this was never an easy act but I became an expert. I could fit two CDs in each pocket unless I was wearing Cargo pants in which I case I could fit between four and five before I had reached capacity. I learned how to adapt my walking so that I could comfortably maneuver while concealing my purchases but it was never comfortable to sit down. When we were picked up by Ryan’s or Mitchell’s parents, it was always a relief because I did not need to be quite so vigilant.
One weekend in sixth grade, the three of us decided to skip the Friday night school dance and instead go to the mall before returning to spend the night in Mitchell’s house. As was customary, I spent at least an hour going through every single CD that Sam Goody had in stock (within a few years, I knew their stock better than they did as I will explain in a future article). I decided to purchase a few albums including The Great Escape by Blur. Blur was my favorite band at the time and their records were usually difficult to locate in my local music stores. This guaranteed my purchase of any album by them that I did not already own.
At this time, neither Mitchell nor Ryan were quite as familiar with Blur’s work as I was and when we returned to Mitchell’s basement, they asked me what type of band they were; I explained that they were British and they said “la la la” a lot in their songs. I decided to preview the album and instead of starting at the beginning I skimmed the tracklist to select “Dan Abnormal” as an entry point (for reasons unbeknownst to me, I was always attracted to the songs which I imagined to be the quirkiest). Much to our hilarity, the song opened with a myriad of ‘la’s which immediately proved the accuracy of my description. Our amusement subsided as we next listened to “Mr Robinson’s Quango” and we were intrigued by the 60s spy allusions present in the song’s horn section. We were sold on the album’s merit when the third song we previewed was “Best Days”, a song that on first listen sounds like a familiar classic.
We did not discuss the album much at that time but the following year it came up again during a school field trip to what I remember as a science and technology museum in Trenton. Our personal CD players (which many of us had just received as a gift on a recent birthday or holiday) dominated the bus ride. At some point during the trip, Ryan asked to borrow one of my CDs and he chose The Great Escape; I remember his appreciation of Blur greatly increasing after this. I recall him specifically being drawn to songs such as the New Wave influenced “Entertain Me”, the Bowie-esque “He Thought of Cars” and the idiosyncratic sound of “Yuko & Hiro”. On the bus ride home, we discussed Blur and I told him about a quote I had read from Dave Rowntree (Blur’s drummer) stating that the best way to impress a woman was to use the word ‘barometer’. We both solemnly acknowledged the wisdom in this advice (though it should also be noted that neither of us were meeting many girls at that time).
The Great Escape has stayed with me to become my favorite Blur album. It does not have the critical accolades of some of their earlier works like Modern Life is Rubbish or Parklife and it does not have the mature songwriting of some of their later work such as their self-titled release or 13 but it has so many memorable moments and a true sense of fun which is rare in a lot of music, particularly from successful bands in the middle of their career. It is an album that uses many synthesizers and horns but never stops sounding like a pop-rock record. It is an album that is not afraid to experiment with different styles and textures yet still retains a strong sense of purpose and focus. Most importantly, it is an album that served as soundtrack to one of the most essential portions of my life. Whenever I look back on those middle school days (which often seemed so terrible while they were happening) I remember the freedom I felt, the friends I had and the music I heard and I feel content.
