Plastic fantastic, The Citizen, April 2010
GORILLAZ’S MURDOC EXPLAINS THE GENESIS OF THEIR NEW ALBUM, ‘PLASTIC BEACH’
YOUR last public performance as a band was in April 2006 with the Demon Days live shows in New York. How do you feel now, looking back on those shows?
Murdoc: Wonderful. A five-night run at New York’s legendary Harlem Apollo, stomping ground of every great from James Brown to Richard Pryor and beyond. Couldn’t have been a better setting for us. We had all the guests from the Demon Days album there, including the likes of De La Soul, Ike Turner, Dennis Hopper... We put all that lot with some animations, pre-recorded appearances, an explosive live band. Even without my usual self-administered trinkets and tinctures I would’ve have found that experience quite, er, “psychedelic”.
But then the band went their separate ways - did you instigate that?
Murdoc: Well, I instigated my own disappearance, certainly. I didn’t really care what the others got up to. Once the door slammed shut on Gorillaz that evening, for me that was it. I was sick of the sight and smell of the whole band.
I just want to have a long “Lost Weekend”, and somehow I managed to string it out for about three years. I think I just wanted to purge my soul of all things Gorillaz. I mean the last time I saw Noodle she was being shot by helicopters as she parachuted off the floating island in the El Manana video. And Russel… As you know, he had his big, bad breakdown – seeing demons shooting out of the speakers. And 2D? Well, I don’t know or care what he got up to. He probably went back to his Dad’s fairground in Eastbourne to work on the arcades. Hang on. Tell a lie - I remember operating on him at Kong Studios. I chloroformed him and then stole all his organs.
January 2009: you turn up unannounced on a live national radio station in the UK with collaborator Damon Albarn and play three new demos on-air. In hindsight was this a clever idea or not?
Murdoc: It was a great chance to play some of the demos. I unveiled three tracks. Tracks in progress: Stylo, Electric Shock and Broken. They seemed to go down well. Why did I do it? I wanted to test the water; see who was listening; see if the fans were still out there for us. Look. There was a coded signal in there. I needed to let someone know that I was ready to make the shift over to Plastic Beach. Playing those tracks was the signal. That I was at the radio station and that my man, my contact, needed to meet me outside. But as soon as I left the studio a hail of bullets tore up the inside of my car. These other guys knew where I was at. All hell broke loose.
With everyone now back on your trail, it’s time to go back into hiding. Was this the time that you realised you could solve your problems by putting Gorillaz back together?
Murdoc: Gorillaz is my band. I don’t really have to “put it back together”. I am Gorillaz. See when Gorillaz is up and running everything’s sweet and dandy. I’m bulletproof. I can pay off the debtors, make swanky videos, and swan around the globe like I own the place, all the while playing my dirty thick black bass over some fantastic music.
It makes all my rubbish seem justified. My rudeness gets put down to entertainment. In fact people even pay for it!
YOUR last public performance as a band was in April 2006 with the Demon Days live shows in New York. How do you feel now, looking back on those shows?
Murdoc: Wonderful. A five-night run at New York’s legendary Harlem Apollo, stomping ground of every great from James Brown to Richard Pryor and beyond. Couldn’t have been a better setting for us. We had all the guests from the Demon Days album there, including the likes of De La Soul, Ike Turner, Dennis Hopper... We put all that lot with some animations, pre-recorded appearances, an explosive live band. Even without my usual self-administered trinkets and tinctures I would’ve have found that experience quite, er, “psychedelic”.
But then the band went their separate ways - did you instigate that?
Murdoc: Well, I instigated my own disappearance, certainly. I didn’t really care what the others got up to. Once the door slammed shut on Gorillaz that evening, for me that was it. I was sick of the sight and smell of the whole band.
I just want to have a long “Lost Weekend”, and somehow I managed to string it out for about three years. I think I just wanted to purge my soul of all things Gorillaz. I mean the last time I saw Noodle she was being shot by helicopters as she parachuted off the floating island in the El Manana video. And Russel… As you know, he had his big, bad breakdown – seeing demons shooting out of the speakers. And 2D? Well, I don’t know or care what he got up to. He probably went back to his Dad’s fairground in Eastbourne to work on the arcades. Hang on. Tell a lie - I remember operating on him at Kong Studios. I chloroformed him and then stole all his organs.
January 2009: you turn up unannounced on a live national radio station in the UK with collaborator Damon Albarn and play three new demos on-air. In hindsight was this a clever idea or not?
Murdoc: It was a great chance to play some of the demos. I unveiled three tracks. Tracks in progress: Stylo, Electric Shock and Broken. They seemed to go down well. Why did I do it? I wanted to test the water; see who was listening; see if the fans were still out there for us. Look. There was a coded signal in there. I needed to let someone know that I was ready to make the shift over to Plastic Beach. Playing those tracks was the signal. That I was at the radio station and that my man, my contact, needed to meet me outside. But as soon as I left the studio a hail of bullets tore up the inside of my car. These other guys knew where I was at. All hell broke loose.
With everyone now back on your trail, it’s time to go back into hiding. Was this the time that you realised you could solve your problems by putting Gorillaz back together?
Murdoc: Gorillaz is my band. I don’t really have to “put it back together”. I am Gorillaz. See when Gorillaz is up and running everything’s sweet and dandy. I’m bulletproof. I can pay off the debtors, make swanky videos, and swan around the globe like I own the place, all the while playing my dirty thick black bass over some fantastic music.
It makes all my rubbish seem justified. My rudeness gets put down to entertainment. In fact people even pay for it!