This is no sonic onslaught. More akin to a quiet night at home rather than the pub-rock extravaganzas of records past, Think Tank stands true to itself. It is Blur at their most cerebral, their most potent. No longer driven by Coxon’s bold and distinct guitar work, the majority of Think Tank’s songs are slow and thoughtful punctuated by imaginative basslines, melodies and percussion. Forced to evolve and soldier on without a vital proponent of that vintage Blur sound, Albarn and his cohorts have gone for a experimental musical direction.

The album’s opener Ambulance, a slow electronic ballad, wanders aimlessly; a lazy and directionless track accentuated by Albarn’s uninteresting vocal delivery. Out of Time, the lead single, picks up the slack. Not since Beetlebum, when that unforgettable opening riff graced our eardrums, have we ever heard a pop song that was so interesting, beautiful and achingly sentimental. The thudding and infectious bassline, the soaring melody and understated guitar licks are coupled with a backing orchestra of Morocco’s best and finest to create a pop song that unravels and mesmerizes as the layers peel away and we are left in a puddle of our own mess.

For every dizzying height, however, is a terrible low. Crazy Beat, an incomprehensible concoction of punk, pop and funk sounds like a pub sing-a-long remixed by Fat Boy Slim. Thankfully, the rest of the album is undeniably affecting. Good Song and Sweet Song revel in their minimalism. With only a hint of guitars, these gorgeous ballads showcase Albarn’s undeniable knack for melody. They meander wistfully, crafting tales of love and hope as Albarn’s beautifully understated voice weaves through the song like a serpent in the bush. Then, as the bassline rings out in your ears, it hits you. This is not the Blur of old. This is a Blur desperate for musical and creative recognition. A Blur who’d much rather be compared to Radiohead than to Oasis.

On the Way to the Club and Brothers and Sisters follow and comprise the summerhaze portion of the album, the former sounding like a cactus wilting in the desert. Cue, then, the obligatory punk rock thrash out. We’ve Got a File on You is a welcome minute of chaos and destruction that recalls the days of old school Britpunk a la The Clash and The Sex Pistols. Admittedly, as the album moves from the warbled melancholy of Caravan to We’ve Got a File on You to the South American jungle vibe of Moroccan Peoples Revolutionary Bowls Club it feels as though Blur have seemingly dropped any notion of cohesion. Somehow, it holds together like a beautiful mess, a testament to the strengths of Blur’s musical experimentation.

The album closer and Graham Coxon’s sole contribution, Battery in my Leg, is the perfect conclusion to Think Tank’s musical pastiche. It is human fragility encapsulated into a song, an ode to anything simply because the emotions it evokes are universal. It begins life as a quietly humble piano ballad then, almost as if we were channelling Mr. Albarn himself, he croons, ‘put a rock beat under everything’ to which the drums kick in and our hearts stir. It’s musical genius. It’s post-modern art. It’s a testament to everything we love about Blur.

Think Tank, rather than being comprised of hit single after hit single, is a proclamation of growth, musically and also in attitude. It is to Blur’s credit that despite their self-conscious anti-stardom they have managed to create a record that is both compelling and accessible. They have also managed to create something that sounds timeless and universal. As Damon and his cohorts have matured so has their music. They have abandoned baffoonery for introspection and overt emotion for understated hopefulness. Think Tank is a creative and expermiental triumph. Who needs Graham Coxon?