There’s a moment about two-thirds into The Mountain where everything suddenly clicks, writes Katie McKenna. Track eleven. “Damascus”.
It’s loud, alive and electric. Omar Souleyman collides with Yasiin Bey, electronic pulses wrap around distorted Middle Eastern textures, and for a few brief minutes, Gorillaz sound like they’ve finally cracked the code they’ve been chasing for well over a decade. It’s raw, thrilling and genuinely fresh.
And then the album keeps going.
That’s The Mountain in miniature. An album full of fascinating ideas and rich influences that only sometimes remembers to actually do anything with them.
The opening stretch suggests something special, drifting in on warm, shimmering textures before expanding into something more orchestral, and even romantic. But then, you start to notice a pattern: many of these tracks build an atmosphere, hint at something transcendent, and then simply… plateau.
“The Hardest Thing” into “Orange County” captures this perfectly, setting up a triumphant release only to resolve in a way that feels oddly small and sounds vaguely ringtone-like. Not bad… but certainly deflating.
This sense of ‘near-miss’ hangs over much of the album. Gorillaz lean heavily into global influences, Hindustani and Middle Eastern textures in particular, but often these feel like decoration rather than foundation. At times, the variation amounts to little more than a sitar flourish (how brave) layered over an otherwise repetitive structure.
Damon Albarn’s iconic subdued delivery fits the album’s introspective tone, but across fifteen tracks, the same hushed presence begins to blur. When everything is understated, nothing quite lands.
The guest features, usually a Gorillaz strength, are similarly inconsistent. There are bright, inspired flashes of energy and personality in some tracks, but only a dim flicker in others, contributing to the sense of an album assembling interesting pieces without quite knowing how to arrange them.
The overall pacing doesn’t help. The album’s runtime begins to sag with samey filler, as well as a seven minute track that sprawls without feeling earned. By the back end of the album, the atmosphere begins to blend into something smoother, softer… more tasteless. A kind of sonic paste. Easy to sink into… harder to remember.
But when it hits, it really hits.
“Damascus” stands as one of the most exciting things Gorillaz have done in years, a moment where their love of genre fusion, collaboration and unpredictability finally locks back into place, just like the good ‘ol days of uh, Demon Days.
The problem, really, is everything immediately surrounding it.
By the time closer “The Sad God” fades out, you’re left with the sense of an album that had a fridge full of fresh ingredients, but still chose to get takeaway every other night.