It’s a depressing indictment of what the Brits (brought to you by Master Card) has come to represent, and sadly ironic given Coxon’s association with an era when the Brits actually mattered; when every kid in the country sat in front of their televisions waiting torturously for the envelope to be opened.These days, the only thing tackier than coverage focusing on a couple of bum notes in a live performance and what the stunningly irrelevant James Corden may or may not have said, is the garishly dolled-up statuettes themselves.But hey, as Graham himself puts it, “if you put something on ITV, this is going to happen.” For new record you’ve utilised a lot of drum machines and synthesisers; what was your motivation for that move, and do you find it as easy to express yourself that way?
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Coxon tends to release his solo material to minimal fanfare: most people would be taken aback when informed that is his eighth full- length.
He’s as close to an underground hero as you’re likely to find in the impossibly overhyped world of UK guitar music.
But despite a gathering buzz for this latest effort, over the weeks preceding our interview, his face had become synonymous with a ridiculous furore surrounding what was intended to be a celebratory Blur performance at the Brits, hijacked in a whirlwind of deplorable red-top sensationalism.
His solo career shuffled reluctantly into life, showing itself as a means to vent a passion for music very separate from that which made his name.
Expressing his love for more obscure strains of American alternative rock and punk, early efforts like , the material still stomped its feet firmly on trashy garage rock ground.
Now, having churned out solo efforts at impressively regular intervals, including 2009’s startlingly introverted and critically lauded blues/folk piece , meanwhile, allows its brash riff to collide headlong with an instantly memorable chorus harmony, neither of Coxon’s dual sides able to fully placate the other, both forced to compromise.A microcosm of the album’s aesthetic, the hypnotic swagger of is the obvious gateway into the record, electronic elements adding a poppy shimmer rather than a robotic absence of humanity, but very rarely does the album revisit its undeniably hook-ridden and bright-eyed enthusiasm.With his singular yet wildly varied guitar plastered over so many instantly-recognisable moments in a 20 year career, a queue of household names waiting to sing his praises and so much made of his understated, everyman persona, one could comfortably drown under the weight of writing on the subject of Graham Coxon.Trying to say something new or interesting about him seems almost moot. Somehow, even with that inbuilt history, and with the word ‘Blur’ once again a staple in the musical lexicon, Coxon remains an idiosyncratic and intriguing individual.Continuing to skirt the underside of the radar with his brave and frequently surprising solo material, there’s still more than enough to talk about with Graham Coxon.While you may think the role of guitarist in a band of such lofty standing lends itself seamlessly to stepping to the forefront of the stage, it takes little knowledge to see how far Coxon stands from the archetype.