Smear Campaign

Still, all things considered, the exposure has paid off, as the band is now toying with its first major American breakthrough. So far, Blur has sold more than 300,000 copies in this country, more than the group's last two releases combined, and it is easily the band's most approachable outing to date. Blur marks a fresh beginning for the group, and the decision to self-title the CD was as intentional as keeping its sound as far from polished as a perfectionist producer such as Steven Street (Morrissey, the Cranberries) could manage.

Oddly enough, though, Blur retains the feel of a slaved-over affair, as if significant amounts of energy were expended on the disc's pseudo-spontaneity. The one thing that doesn't come off as contrived, however, is the song writing, especially the highly personalized bent of Albarn's lyrics, which are refreshingly cryptic in spots ("Tea, tea and coffee, help to start the day / Tea, tea and coffee, shakin' all the way").

No less a revelation are Albarn's vocals. From the droopy Ian Hunter drawl on "Look Inside America" to the uncanny Bowie imitation that carries the glammy power ballad "Strange News from Another Star" to a rather languid bout of vulnerability on "Beetlebum" (an actual love song, for chrissakes), his singing bends and contorts with the music's every turn. A small arsenal of vocal enhancements and effects lend intrigue to more experimental numbers such as the high-velocity punk rave "Chinese Bombs" and the disturbing CD closer "Essex Dogs," an interesting, if stunted, attempt at trip-hop. That last, with its references to cellular phones, graffiti and terminal pubs, is also an off-color tribute to Albarn's home turf, and it is the closest Blur comes to making an outright social statement.

Albarn and Coxon first met in 1980 as students at the Stanway Comprehensive School, where they sang together in the choir. Coxon had moved with his family to Colchester, Essex, in the late '70s, and he quickly gravitated toward drama and music, learning saxophone before moving on to guitar at age 12. Both of Blur's co-founders come from artistic families: Coxon is the son of a musician, and Albarn's dad, Keith, was a key player in England's late-'60s psychedelic rock scene.

Blur assembled in the late '80s as an unapologetically strange art-punk band called Seymour. By then, bassist Alex James and drummer Dave Rountree (another Colchester native) were in the fold, and the lineup has remained stable ever since. In 1989, the group re-christened itself Blur -- a term well suited to the band's burgeoning smear of creative contradictions -- and signed to Britain's Food Records. Blur's 1991 debut, Leisure, was an odd bird, to say the least, inspired as it was by the group's dual interest in the multilayered guitar noise of My Bloody Valentine and the cosmic conceptual excursions of Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd. But by the release of Modern Life Is Rubbish in 1992, Blur's commentary had become more pointed, its sound cleaner and more reflective of Albarn's pop sensibilities. Come 1994's Parklife, Britain's love affair with Blur was on solid ground, and its follow-up, The Great Escape, went on to sell in the millions worldwide.

Now that Blur has survived -- and, in fact, thrived -- this long without America's help, you have to wonder if superstardom on U.S. terms would be anything more than a hollow victory for the group. Coxon's sour, uncompromising attitude toward Blur's current nibble at domestic success pretty much confirms that suspicion.

"There is no way I'm going to tailor my music for people who watch MTV and wear fucking cowboy boots. I'd rather shoot myself in the head," says Coxon, seething. "Those are the people who are coming to the shows now, making idiots out of themselves -- punching themselves for a couple of fast songs and pissing everyone else off. Then they spend the rest of the show looking confused. If that's what heavy rotation on MTV does, then I'm not interested."

Well, so much for having it both ways. And given his contempt toward the newer members of Blur's domestic fan base, feel free to assign Coxon your own code name. "Ingrate," perhaps?

Blur performs Monday, September 29, at Numbers, 300 Westheimer. Doors open at 8 p.m. Tickets are $17. Smash Mouth opens. For info, call 629-3700.