It's the end of an era for Blur. Frontman Damon Albarn announced last week at the Reading Festival there would be two more gigs before they take a break and so, here we are, sardined into the Camden Electric Ballroom, London to bid them adieu, for now.|

The most intimate Blur gig in years, by the time the sweaty foursome arrived on stage at five past nine, you've already shared some of your own dew droppings with a few hundred of your newest friends. As they plow through twenty B-sides that see them go from punk-upstarts to pop saviors to spaced-out, lo-fi, starlets, we realize we've not only come here for entertainment. Tonight's hottest gig in all of England becomes a forum for the unspoken sharing of our feelings and what we're feeling most tonight is hot.

As our appointed leader, the floppy haired one, Damon takes breaks between songs to chew out venue staff for not supplying him with enough water to douse our boiling pit as we hang off his every word, and the rest of the band jump spontaneously into a jam of "My Sharona."

If the Brat-pop crown had not been given to Scottish indie-darlings Bis, it would most certainly have been reserved for Albarn who tonight goes flippant at the stagehands, again over the water, and then sets his sights on the technical crew for feedback. But we few hundred are spared the singer's reproof, because tonight, we are his friends; well all save the lager lout shouting "play 'Parklife'" after they finish a chirpy "Fred Needle Street." To which Damon replies, "We can do the same set as Reading if you want. It doesn't bother us." A quick shudder at the thought of last week's boring set and the lynch mob is formed.

For even though we don't know all the words to the punky, "Fried," or "Uncle Love," "I'm Fine" or "Peach," it doesn't matter because this time the chemistry is there, and the band think so too.

Bassist Alex James' blasT posturing is betrayed by giddy smiles, and guitarist Graham Coxon is looking more introverted than ever. Damon puts their feelings to words when he takes a moment midway through to apologize for his outbursts at the crew, saying "I've been in a very bad mood all day. I've been really stressed about this." Graham apologizes himself after his own snotty pop ditty, "No Monster in Me," querying, "Does it sound alright or does the sweat make it all horrible?"

They seem to relish the experience though, even if they are overly concerned with making a perfect gig. We see a bit of every piece of Blur as they careen about on stage, pogoing together, or when Damon takes a moment to stare his starry eyed, glazed-over look into space so some Japanese fans can take his photo.

It's a simple "Thank You, and goodnight," when they leave us smiling, and you can't help but think this really is the end of a glorious era of British pop music. This is a high.

JOLIE LASH
(September 7, 1999)