vinylfanatics.com

**The Nearer The Fountain, More Pure The Stream Flows**
★★★★☆

Damon Albarn has always been a restless musical spirit, but his latest solo venture finds him in an unexpectedly contemplative mood. "The Nearer The Fountain, More Pure The Stream Flows" arrives as perhaps his most introspective work yet, a far cry from the Britpop anthems of Blur or the genre-hopping cartoon chaos of Gorillaz. This is Albarn stripped down, aged like fine wine, and gazing inward with the wisdom that only comes from decades of musical exploration.

The album's origins trace back to Albarn's time spent in Devon during the pandemic, where he found himself isolated and reflecting on mortality, nature, and the passage of time. Unlike the collaborative frenzy that typically defines his projects, this feels deeply personal – a solo piano meditation that occasionally blooms into orchestral grandeur. It's as if he's finally allowing himself the luxury of stillness after years of perpetual motion between bands, operas, and multimedia projects.

Musically, this is Albarn's most classical-leaning effort, drawing heavily from his work in contemporary composition and opera. The influence of his collaboration with the BBC Symphony Orchestra is palpable throughout, creating soundscapes that feel more akin to Max Richter or Ólafur Arnalds than anything in his previous catalog. Piano serves as the album's backbone, but it's the subtle orchestration – strings that swell like morning mist, brass that punctuates rather than dominates – that gives these pieces their emotional weight.

When considering Albarn's trajectory through his three most pivotal albums, the evolution becomes striking. "Parklife" (1994) captured him at his most exuberant and socially observant, crafting character studies of British life with cheeky wit and infectious melodies. That album's music hall influences and narrative songwriting established him as one of Britain's most astute musical storytellers. Fast-forward to "Demon Days" (2005), where Albarn channeled global anxieties through his virtual band Gorillaz, blending hip-hop, electronica, and alternative rock into a prescient commentary on the digital age. Now, with "The Nearer The Fountain," we find an artist who has moved beyond external observation to internal excavation.

The album's standout tracks reveal Albarn's newfound vulnerability. "The Nearer The Fountain, More Pure The Stream Flows" itself unfolds like a gentle river, with piano arpeggios that cascade over subtle string arrangements. "Daft Wader" – perhaps the album's most accessible moment – hints at his pop sensibilities while maintaining the record's contemplative atmosphere. Meanwhile, "Polaris" serves as the album's emotional centerpiece, building from sparse beginnings to a cathartic orchestral climax that feels like watching sunrise over water.

"Particles" showcases Albarn's gift for melody even in this restrained context, while "Royal Morning Blue" demonstrates how effectively he can paint with musical colors, creating impressionistic soundscapes that evoke specific moods and memories. These aren't traditional songs in the verse-chorus sense – they're more like musical diary entries, capturing fleeting emotions and observations.

The album occasionally suffers from its own ambitions. Some tracks drift into pleasant but forgettable territory, lacking the hooks that made Albarn's previous work so memorable. "Combustion" and "Esja" feel more like sketches than fully realized compositions, suggesting that perhaps not every musical thought needed to make it onto the final record.

Currently, "The Nearer The Fountain" stands as a fascinating chapter in Albarn's ever-expanding musical novel. It won't convert casual fans expecting "Song 2" or "Feel Good Inc.," but it reveals an artist unafraid to age gracefully and explore new emotional territories. The album's legacy will likely be as a bridge between Albarn's pop past and whatever classical future awaits him.

This is music for quiet Sunday mornings, for contemplation rather than celebration. It's Albarn proving that reinvention doesn't always require radical departures – sometimes it just means having the courage to sit still and listen to what emerges from the silence. In a world of constant noise, "The Nearer The Fountain" offers something increasingly rare: space to breathe, think, and simply be.