THE MOUNTAIN is in India. Here, on the banks of the Ganges, Damon Albarn scattered his father’s ashes. This is where Jamie Hewlett was hanging around when his mother-in-law suffered a stroke from which she never recovered. But above all, the mountain stands in a country beyond all geographical realities. On their ninth album, the Gorillaz embark on a journey that leads from “Moon Cave” to “Orange County,” from “Damascus” to “Casablanca.”
Anoushka Shankar and Bollywood icon Asha Bhosle lounge in the seats of the coach, as do Paul Simonon, Johnny Marr and IDLES. The sound has – no, no Indian foundation in the strict sense. Rather, he follows an idea of global beats that leaves western pop hegemonies behind, but is also so artificial that any kind of ethnokitsch is avoided. This leads to a spectacle in which the operetta-like (“The Happy Dictator” with the Sparks) stands next to the loud (“The Manifesto”), but also leaves room for melancholy (“The Empty Dream Machine”).
At the same time, with the album the comic supergroup pays homage to some who are no longer alive. Proof features Tony Allen and Bobby Womack. And: What luck that Albarn apparently got more out of Mark E. Smith at the PLASTIC BEACH sessions 16 years ago than was needed: the barked out “Delirium” pushes this otherwise perfectly formed album at least a little towards anarchy. “The hardest thing is to say goodbye to someone you love,” they say in “Orange County.” It’s true.
This review appears in Musikexpress 3/2026.
