Damon could only hold that loveable cockney geezer pose for so long of course. He always was a soft art-school ponce at heart, his flirtation with football and the dogs ringing about as true as Nigel Kennedy's estuary vowels did. At least Graham Coxon never affected a preference for the bookies over the Booker. He may have nursed a heroic thirst but he's always been a dyed in the wool big girl's blouse and proud of the fact. Unfortunately he also has a mystifying penchant for skateboards and all things lo-fi and unlistenable. He's also rich enough and powerful enough to indulge of these interests in public, oh sweet joy...
'The Golden D' is Coxon's stab second stab at recording the most pointless album of all time and rest assured he's getting there. By his fourth solo long-player I reckon Lou Reed's 'Metal Machine Music' might just sound like Billie Piper in comparison. For petulant sneaker-stamping chutzpah, 'Leave Me Alone' takes some beating. As an insect-repellent it's clattering atonal thud is surely peerless. Unless the whole impetus behind this collection of fuzz and gristle is as some disingenuous tax-dodge its hard to dismiss it as anything more than the vainglorious toe-nail clippings of a cocooned Indie megastar.
The love hate relationship he has with fame gets another tired airing in the cumbersome cover of Mission of Burma's 'Fame & Fortune' but for somebody so uncomfortable in the shrill glare of fan worship he sure spends a hell of a lot of time down the Good Mixer. The first pub in London that all Japanese Blur Babes head for after blowing their first grant cheque in the more day-glo corners of Camden Market, it'd be the last place I'd choose for my local given Coxon's level of celebrity. Stop your fucking whinging and make like an easy life is largely enjoyable why don't you? As vicious circles go they don't get any more unsavoury than this, Coxon's A-list status being the only thing to afford him the opportunity to rail against it.
It has to be remembered though that if nothing else Coxon's solo career acts as a safety valve for all those willfully dissonant impulses that might otherwise pollute the day job. If the 'Golden D' indirectly heralds a return to the tune-savvy Blur of old then it might just be a drone worth enduring.
