Blur’s return at Colchester Arts Centre was a triumphant reminder of Britpop’s power

“Hello, welcome, cheers, f****** awesome to be back,” shouts hardy-looking Alex James, 54, fists pumping, as three-quarters of Britpop’s old peculiars amble into the room.

There’s guitarist Graham Coxon, 54, as unwithered by age as James, the bassist-turned gentleman farmer. Here’s ruddy drummer Dave Rowntree, 59, taking time out of his busy schedule (solicitor, Labour councillor, computer animator, Beagle 2 Mars mission advocate) to hop on the reunion carousel.

But where’s Damon Albarn? James mutters something about the 55-year-old frontman being delayed by Brexit. Or the Channel 4 news evening bulletin. A very middle-aged start to a rock and roll press conference.

Blur, if you hadn’t heard, are back. The band have already announced comeback shows at Wembley Stadium this summer (both dates sold out in minutes), as well as an international tour.

Then on Thursday, they revealed the existence of a new album, The Ballad of Darren. Now, 24 hours after that announcement, they’re in Colchester to play at the 400-capacity Colchester Arts Centre, the opening night of a short, four-show warm-up tour, and their first gig in eight years. (It’s also a homecoming for Albarn, Coxon, and Rowntree, who all grew up nearby).

They take to the stage to a roar of excitement from the lucky 400 attendees, serenaded by the theme from Seventies soap Crossroads. Opening song St Charles Square opens with Albarn seeming to declare “I fcked up” and is, in a very good way, a howling dirge, Coxon’s guitar playing at its crunchy best.

It’s one of two new numbers in the 110-minute set, with new single The Narcissist – a familiar but no less thrilling blast of peak Nineties Albarn pop – eventually following deep in the encore.

The Ballad of Darren, Blur’s first album since 2015’s The Magic Whip, was an undertaking so secret that, within their record company, it was referred to as project Pizza Box, and only became known to elements of the staff as recently as March.

Speaking before the gig, Albarn reveals that the album’s demos were written in hotels and venues during last autumn’s Gorillaz tour of North America, and recorded “in a lot of dodgy conference rooms”.

“In fact, the only way I really could do this was [to be] totally divorced from all the import that making a new record would have,” he says. “I wanted [to] just not think about it and write from the heart.”

With the best will in the world, of all the Britpop stalwarts currently engaged with the resurrection shuffle – Pulp and Suede are also abroad in the land – in musical terms it’s Blur’s reunion that matters.

The new album was so secret that, within Blur’s record company, it was referred to as project Pizza Box. Copyright: Reuben Bastienne-Lewis

It’s big news: big enough to also merit a press conference at Colchester Castle, even if it’s actually the third (or fourth) time they’ve returned to the fray.

After arriving a minute or so after his band mates, Albarn describes how the rough and ready writing process helped the album come together.

He maintained that feeling once back in the UK before he and the rest of Blur “literally just crashed into the studio” at the start of the year, where they worked with indie-rock producer extraordinaire James Fordham (Arctic Monkeys, Depeche Mode).

It all bodes well for The Ballad of Darren. But onstage at the Arts Centre, its the band’s back catalogue that sets the room alight: 21 songs that serve as stunning reminders of Blur’s kaleidoscopic brilliance.

The 21 songs from the band’s back catalogue were a stunning reminder of Blur’s kaleidoscopic brilliance.

Credit: Phoebe Fox

From the era-defining pogo of Parklife and Girls & Boys, to the elegiac luminescence of the one-two-three punch with which they close the show (Tender, For Tomorrow, The Universal), via the utterly lovely Coffee and TV and still utterly head-shaving Song 2, the reborn Blur sound 34-years-young.

They clearly feel it, too, the onstage smiles ricocheting between all four of them. The familiar whiff of contrariness that Albarn occasionally emanated at the press conference was fully gone, blasted to the converted church’s vaulted ceiling by a fully committed, crowd-invading performance from the frontman, infectious intra-band bonhomie and rampaging, singalong fan fervour.

Wembley will be wild.