There’s just something about desert island stories, isn’t there? As a plot device, the tropical island has on countless occasions been able to develop a most revealing and insightful picture of the human soul. Stripped of any semblance of social structure, the remote island provides a backdrop which is ideal for exploring the innermost desires of men and women – in particular, what they would want to do if they didn’t have systems already in place to guide them towards their actions. The irony is always that the first, most pressing undertaking these stranded, yet totally liberated souls often embark upon is that of an ultimate escape. And when escape fails, the focus has a tendency to shift toward establishing government. From Lord of the Flies to LOST, our castaways almost always begin at the edge of some form of spiritual enlightenment, only to be carried via circumstance back to the very societal evils from which they were supposed to have been freed. The story of Plastic Beach, the third album from cartoon band Gorillaz, is a similar cautionary tale, but it shares more common ground with Dostoevsky’s chilling “The Dream of a Ridiculous Man” than with Lord of the Flies, Like Dostoevsky’s short story, Plastic Beach is an allegorical narrative about a pure and corrupt microcosm, shattered and conquered by the technological terrors of the outside world. Unlike Dostoevsky’s short story, Plastic Beach has beats, orchestras, and more than a few rappers. It is also one of the finest pop records you’re likely to have heard in a while, with or without the elaborate generational narrative concept.

To describe Plastic Beach in one sentence, one would have to find Dennis Hopper and have him recite his part on ”Fire Coming Out of the Monkey’s Head” from 2005’s Demon Days really, really fast. Gorillaz’ latest is, if nothing else, an elaboration on the story the accomplished actor and director once told over the course of a single song; except now that story has characters, romance and a rich and textured plot revealing our plugged-in generation of screen-viewers for what it truly is. What makes Plastic Beach truly remarkable, however, is how much the diversity of the guest talent involved lends to the overall message of the album, and how that in turn complements the complexity of its generational focus. Structured like an opera, Plastic Beach consistently thrives on its theatrics, and never falls victim to them. Having said so much of the intricate and deliberate nature of the lyrical content, it’s hard to imagine there being a collection of catchy, digestible pop songs to propel this narrative behemoth forward; hard to imagine, but impossible to deny. Plastic Beach is easily Albarn’s finest work since Blur’s Think Tank. Far from the half-hatched Brit-hop of Gorillaz’ debut, Plastic Beach is an album that is able to push the envelope without leaving the glittery catchiness of 2005’s Demon Days behind.

Immediately, Albarn and friends set out to captivate us; the minute-long ”Orchestral Intro” carries us away on its whimsical, sand covered seagull wings, courtesy of sinfonia ViVA, to the unknown territory ahead. A surge of horns introduces Snoop Dogg, who gives us a more proper orientation to the album. Snoop Dogg enters his third decade in the rap game on ”Welcome To the World of the Plastic Beach,” and as he rides the relaxed, synth-driven funk beat to its conclusion, one can’t help but wonder if this is what Dr. Dre’s Detox might sound like someday, if it is ever released. Snoop’s delivery probably won’t amaze or surprise anyone who is familiar with his catalogue, but he’s here to greet and welcome, not to impress. It’s when the beat drops out of the mix, and the Doggfather repeats “welcome to the world of the Plastic Beach,” one last time, that the record truly begins.

On “White Flag,” The Lebanese National Orchestra for Oriental Arabic Music looses a playful and dynamic string arrangement before passing the reigns to Bashy and Kano. “No Cast Away, no Survivor/I ain’t lost and this ain’t shipwrecked,” Bashy proclaims atop glitched-out blasts of gated cell phone noise, before making a duly-noted reference to The Sims in the same verse. A line like “sex on the beach/want to try for baby?” is nothing out of the ordinary on a typical hip hop song, but within the greater context of the album, the reference to EA Games’ voyeuristic life simulator comes off as a calculated and deliberate turn of phrase that reveals its true colors with repeated listens.

On ”Rhinestone Eyes,” 2-D (Damon Albarn) finally makes his presence felt, atonally declaring “I’m a scary gargoyle on a tower that you made with plastic power/your rhinestone eyes are like factories far away.” Albarn’s lyrics convey a detached melancholy, as 2-D is unable to compare what he is feeling to anything but a crumbling artifice or an assumed Chinese manufacturing plant. The song, which begins as a downbeat and minimal number, develops into a bleak, mechanical disco dirge before grinding to a sudden stop.

To be honest, first single “Stylo” made an unreliable first impression of the album as a whole. Taken as a single, the Bobby Womack centered, Quincy Jones inspired track seemed like too much of a novelty on first listen. On the album, however, the song carries forward the themes introduced by “White Flag” and “Rhinestone Eyes.” On “Stylo,” everything becomes electric, and 2-D, along with both Womack and an all-too-briefly featured Mos Def are preoccupied with powering on the motherboards. Womack, who appeared on the album at the request of his daughter, proves that at 66, he can still hit the high notes. One can easily imagine the hours in the studio it may have taken to produce the perfect take, but the results are impressive. Lou Reed, the oldest guest vocalist featured on the album, fares decidedly worse, sounding awkward amidst the production of “Some Kind of Nature,” albeit at somewhat intentional levels. As Reed describes his environment, one could easily conjure the image an out of touch grandfather trying to put together an entertainment center for his grandchildren, or arguing with the TomTom he got for his 68th birthday.

Plastic Beach is filled with sad and beautiful shores, colorful characters and a tangled lyrical narrative, but where it shines the brightest are the two tender ballads on which Albarn collaborates with Swedish electronic quartet Little Dragon. “Empire Ants” begins with delayed piano arpeggios and ethereal pads, sounding reminiscent of Demon Days’ b-side ”Hong Kong.” The dramatic shift from dreamy lullaby to techno powerhouse that occurs halfway through the track makes for one of the album’s most captivating and rewarding moments. Little Dragon’s Yukimi Nagano laments “your little feet working the machines,” and the music matches her mood and voice perfectly.

At the very center of Plastic Beach is perhaps its weakest moment, the Mark E. Smith vehicle ”Glitter Freeze.” The Fall’s Smith barely rescues the uninspired backing track from the cutting room floor, bringing an otherwise limp song back from the dead with a brief, but inspired vocal delivery. On a record full of pop hooks and songs that reach incredible climaxes one after another, ”Glitter Freeze” by contrast has the aftertaste of a bad first date, and is the only skippable song on the whole album.

On “Sweepstakes,” Mos Def returns to the microphone, taking on one of Plastic Beach’s most complex and difficult productions. Where another MC might have stumbled through the densely layered and sinister progression, Mos Def finds his moment to shine. It’s not surprising Def recently expressed his belief the song might be “the greatest thing I’ve ever done as an MC.”

The titular track on Plastic Beach kicks off the album’s final act with an epic, spaghetti western-sounding intro courtesy of The Clash’s Mick Jones and Paul Simonon. Going in, it feels like it could have been the last song on the album. The Morricone theatrics give way to Clockwork Orange synthesizer squelches, and the song leaps into a delightfully indistinguishable cacophony of pitch-shifted vocals, keyboard arpeggios, bubbling basslines and Nintendo-core synths. All that can be made out in the gorgeously tangled mess is “automated computer speech/it’s a Casio on a Plastic Beach.”

Little Dragon returns for a tender duet with Albarn on “To Binge.” The two toss verses back and forth, pondering the imponderables of two people in love who have differences that will never be resolved. It doesn’t reach the vitriolic peaks of “Empire Ants,” but it tugs all of the same heartstrings.
“Cloud of Unknowing” is the sound of Plastic Beach dissolving into a cloud of doubt and uncertainty. Bobby Womack returns with an inspired delivery, and you will find yourself wondering how this could be the same person who sang “Across 110th Street.” Like “In Blue Hawaii” on Brian Wilson’s SMiLE, “Cloud of Unknowing” is the drawn out, desperate set-up for a surprise right hook. The emotional core it reaches is pivotal to the moment that follows, in which everything, seemingly uncertain, and possibly fucked, fails to be resolved – but Gorillaz get away in a Pirate Jet. And that’s it.

It is easy to tell an album is bad when a lot of different people make the same case against it. When an album gets unanimously championed, it’s often equally difficult to tell if it is really as good as it’s being hyped up to be. Plastic Beach is an album that is going to mean different things to different people. ”Glitter Freeze” might end up being your favorite song on the whole album, who knows? You might just as well find ”Superfast Jellyfish” to be the weakest song on the album. You may never interest yourself in the tangled narrative Plastic Beach so cleverly conceals. You might even have the audacity to hate the Little Dragon songs. But you will find something you like about this album. Why? Because it’s a goddamn brilliant and diverse pop record, that’s why. And if I ever get stranded on that LOST island, I’m going to bump it until my batteries die.

Track List:
1. Orchestral Intro (Feat. sinfonia ViVA)
2. Welcome to the World of the Plastic Beach (Feat. Snoop Dogg & Hypnotic Brass Ensemble)
3. White Flag (Feat. Kano, Bashy & The Lebanese National Orchestra for Arabic Music)
4. Rhinestone Eyes
5. Stylo (Feat. Bobby Womack & Mos Def)
6. Superfast Jellyfish (Feat. Gruff Rhys & De La Soul)
7. Empire Ants (Feat. Little Dragon)
8. Glitter Freeze (Feat. Mark E. Smith)
9. Some Kind of Nature (Feat. Lou Reed)
10. On Melancholy Hill
11. Broken
12. Sweepstakes (Feat. Mos Def & Hypnotic Brass Ensemble)
13. Plastic Beach" (Feat. Mick Jones & Paul Simonon)
14. To Binge" (Feat. Little Dragon)
15. Cloud of Unknowing (Feat. Bobby Womack & sinfonia ViVA)
16. Pirate Jet