On the (belated) occasion of Blur's relaunching as a working band, I'd like to examine the secret history of a group often described as the pinnacle of modern art-pop, looking at how their B-sides have complimented their history and the movements around them. A secret history to be mapped out like Damon’s associative skeletal, phantasmagoria’s on the historical cloth-map land of never-England on ‘This is a Low’. This is Blur’s ‘low’ lights.

You probably know the origins one way—a collection of blue-eyed megalomaniac drama-school misfits, louche francaphone boho’s and mumbly instrument savant daubers, plus a ginger guy from Colchester council in pyjama trousers create a rackety bag-of-bones collective of a band sounding like everything ‘from Handel to the Wedding Present via the Pixies and Specials AKA’. Proceed to play Camberwells a lot with some clatterly splutter-directed pogoing songs about being ‘long legged’ soaked in one pound mixers and half-digested ambition, loosely glued together by a bubbling talent still milky and fluid.

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