Gorillaz’s ‘Song Machine’ Disassembles the Human Heart

Is it really possible to do anything new in music anymore?

It is easy to grow cynical of the tireless machine that is the contemporary music industry. Some call its sonic output plastic, others blame plastic production for housing anything but genuine intention. Critics bemoan a culture that celebrates commercial success over creative fulfillment.

From the fog of today’s music emerges a welcome hand. It is a strange hand, no doubt, but a sure one. Unlike its contemporaries, Gorillaz extends an artistic limb that is older than its younger counterparts yet retains an enigmatic freshness. The band’s unapologetically raw sound and uncompromisingly vulnerable lyrics are diamonds in a sea of dust. Gorillaz’s artistic luminescence is bright enough to convince you they are the new newness, the only assured newness in a modern musical scene that seems to be unsure of what it wants to be.

Their endearingly eclectic discography, from sensational single “Feel Good Inc.” (2005) to the sonically arresting album “Humanz” (2017) proves time and time again Gorillaz does not exist to emulate, nor do they create sound to please. “Song Machine” — the group’s latest project — is no exception.

Despite their technically fascinating composition, what truly makes Gorillaz stand out is their ability to leverage technical creativity as a vehicle for dynamic sound. Thanks to the diversity of featured artists on any given Gorillaz discography, the band boasts a sonic palette that is constantly in flux, providing a rare opportunity to make each song unique, even irreplaceable.

British sensation Gorillaz was formed in 1998 by musician Damon Albarn and illustrator Jamie Hewlett. One of the world’s most popular virtual bands, Gorillaz is composed of a cast of characters that are not corporeal artists, but rather animated individuals. Though membership remains fluid, the four signature characters are Stuart “2-D” Pot, Murdoc Niccals, Noodle, and Russel Hobbs. In addition to releasing music, Gorillaz is also known for releasing dazzlingly-animated music videos, interviews, and cartoons.

Gorillaz boasts a long list of trophies and titles, including a Grammy for Pop Collaboration with Vocals (“Feel Good Inc.,” 2005), over 20 million record sales, and Best British Group at the 2018 Brit Awards. What makes them truly stand out, however, is their refusal to emulate conventional legacies of success in the music industry.

Whether it be the completely virtual nature of their band or their postmodern musicality, Gorillaz challenges its listeners to question what meaningful sound is.

By making the radical creative choice to dress down, not up, Gorillaz achieves a subliminally self-assured, wondrously expansive tone. Interlaced between lazy voices and dreamy sonic landscapes dwells an easy honesty that shines through both sonically and lyrically. Paired with melancholic piano chords and a crooning harmonica, the aching verses to “The Pink Phantom” are poems in their own right:

“You’ve more or less forgotten me this summer,” 2-D croons. “Try to tell you that I love you but I’m choked up,” featured rapper 6LACK confides. “In a sky made of diamonds,” Elton John serenades, “And where the world is flawless / I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.”

This complicated emotionality presents a radical shift from much of contemporary music’s binaristic interpretation of feeling. Some songs submerge themselves wholly in bombastic self-love, an affinity so unidirectional it risks sounding self-absorbed. Other Gen-Z and millennial acts have grown comfortable with a heady sense of melancholia, frequently penning lyrics that are hugely pessimistic, almost carelessly so.

“Song Machine” presents a rare opportunity to sink into a wholly different experience. Rather than subscribe to one avenue of emotion, Gorillaz delightfully careens through diverse boulevards of sentiment. Even in their album’s most melancholic moments, the virtual band manages to cultivate a startling luminescence, a bittersweet euphoria that wells through the sonic cracks of their album.

Perhaps the most notable challenge of “Song Machine” is its waffling between superficial and sustainable fulfillment. This exploration is particularly visible in “Momentary Bliss.” “We could do so much better than this,” Isaac Holman, member of English punk rock duo Slaves, sings. “Mausoleum faces and momentarily bliss / We can do so much better than this.” British rapper Slowthai adds, “It makes me sick to think you ain’t happy in your own skin.” 2-D follows, singing wistfully, “Oh, you need to change your face / You’re gettin’ sold, you’re such a waste / Oh, we could do so much better than this / Swimmin’ in pools of momentary bliss.”

Though “Momentary Bliss” holds infinite interpretations, what is universal is its overwhelming resonance with many, if not all, human experiences. Faux happiness and plastic fulfilment are common phenomena that Gorillaz work to undress in their latest musical installment. In doing so, the virtual band paints a sonic landscape of lucid epiphany.

If anything is in demand during these strange contemporary times, it is creative respite. Listeners are granted the rare privilege of placing their weary minds against the magnificently novel, complex shoulder of “Song Machine” and letting out a sigh of something in between bliss and relief.