REVIEW: BLUR: NO DISTANCE LEFT TO RUN
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AMONG the wave of classic (and not-so-classic) acts to jump on the reformation bandwagon in recent years, not many manage to actually sound better than they did in their heyday.
But anyone who witnessed the triumphant return of Blur at a string of sold-out live dates last summer - and that includes your humble reviewer - will confirm that this emotional return was about much more than boosting the bank balance.
BLUR: NO DISTANCE LEFT TO RUN, then, serves as a heart-warming testament to four friends burying the hatchet and doing what they do best together -namely making era-defining experimental pop music that soundtracked a generation.
Whether it was 150 punters packed into Rough Trade record shop or 30,000 people pogo-ing in unison in Hyde Park, there is no denying the power of these lovingly documented reunion gigs.
Rest assured, all the action is captured in glorious HD and spine-tingling slow-mo but it's the bits in between that chart the band's rise from Baggy pretenders to Britpop kings and beyond that throw up the real treats.
A decade on all four members look startlingly good, providing refreshingly candid interviews which are interspersed with a wealth of rare and unseen archive footage - much of it highly inebriated and far from flattering - to counterbalance the comeback.
What hits home the hardest, however, is just how good the songs are and how fresh they sound today - from Leisure in 1990 to 2003's Graham Coxon-less Think Tank.
No Distance Left To Run is unlikely to change your mind if you've never quite found it in your heart to love Damon Albarn like you did Jarvis Cocker or Liam Gallagher.
But the sight of the much-maligned singer breaking down in tears as the massed thousands join in a communal sing-a-long of Tender at Glastonbury offers some degree of closure for a band torn apart before their time - not to mention their many fans. - MATT HUMPHREYS
Released at cinemas on January 19.
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