// The Gorillaz Mellow Out On Cracker Island

The virtual band’s eighth studio album takes a trip to paradise.

The album’s marketing campaign is full of cult inspired imagery, and by the end of the first song you feel like you’ve had one cup of spiked Kool-Aid too many.

For those unacquainted with the band Gorillaz, here’s a crash course. What began in 1998 as a “virtual band” created by Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett has since evolved into a sprawling multimedia art project that has lasted for over two decades. The band’s lineup consists of four fictional members: Murdoc, 2-D, Russell, and Noodle; all of whom have backstories that are expanded upon in music videos, comic strips, and the like. Together they’ve dabbled in a wide variety of genres, and collaborated with a dizzying array of pop icons, from Elton John to Snoop Dogg to Lou Reed. Their latest album, Cracker Island, is significantly more mellow than their previous work — and at times it’s a bit too mellow.

Having said that, the album’s opener, “Cracker Island” is anything but boring. It’s a pulsing funk roller-coaster of a song, fueled by a hypnotic Thundercat bassline. Albarn and Thundercat’s spacey vocals, combined with rambling lyrics about “the collective of the dawn” make you feel like you’re being drawn into a pleasant trance.

Kofte and Chill Books //

The album’s energy takes a nosedive on the next two tracks: “Oil” (featuring backup vocals from the legendary Stevie Nicks), and “The Tired Influencer.” By the time we get to “Silent Running” the vibes are so chill they’re almost sleepy. Luckily the next song, “New Gold” brings the energy back up. The chorus (sung by Tame Impala’s Kevin Parker) is deliciously infectious. “Baby Queen” is a dreamy recount of Damon Albarn’s real life meeting with the Princess of Thailand adorned with psychedelic synths and echoey vocals. “Tarantula” is somehow both funky and melancholic in a way that works. Both songs are enjoyable, but the production is noticeably clean and radio-friendly, a sharp contrast from the grimy hip-hop sound of the group’s earlier work.

Speaking of their earlier work, the album’s eighth song, “Tormenta,” has officially usurped the most popular Gorillaz song “Feel Good Inc.” on Spotify. This is probably thanks to Puerto Rican superstar

(and Billboard’s Top Artist of 2022), Bad Bunny, whose smooth vocals are the perfect addition to this tropical track. “Tormenta” is probably the last high point on the album before “Skinny Ape” and “Possession Island” end the album with a whimper instead of a bang. For those craving a little more hip-hop, the deluxe version features tracks like “Controllah,” “Crocodillaz,” and “Captain Chicken.” After listening, it makes sense that those last two were cut from the final album, but in my opinion “Controllah” didn’t deserve to be snubbed.

Cracker Island, while a pleasant listen, isn’t the most ambitious Gorillaz album out there. The funkier, bassier tracks like “Cracker Island” and “New Gold” are sure to become fan favourites, and slower tracks like “Baby Queen” induce a feeling of pleasurable tranquillity. But between these high points, the album meanders. The synth-pop production blends many of the songs into a homogenous and flavourless smoothie. If this album is meant to evoke a vacation getaway, it does a decent job. But like all vacations, the longer you’re away, the more you start to wish you were back home.

Taleen Voskuni writes a heart-warming story of queerness and how that integrates with the deep cultural roots of Armenia.

GIANNA DINWOODIE

Taleen Voskuni, an Armenian author, writes her debut romance novel Sorry Bro, centred around protagonist Nareh “Nar” Bedrossian and her journey on the path to self-discovery: both of her heritage, and coming into her queer identity. Previously engaged to San Francisco tech mogul Trevor Milken, Nareh realises this is not the man she wants to spend her life with, and instead meets the mystical Erebuni at an Explore Armenia event her mother convinced her to attend.

I first encountered Sorry Bro by chance while scrolling aimlessly on social media and was immediately intrigued by the plot. A book about queer Armenians? That was not something you saw every day. I was so excited that I immediately preordered it and waited idly for it to arrive, hoping I wouldn’t be burned by yet another upcoming young adult (YA) novel. Finally getting to read this book was incredible, and everything I hoped it would be.

Voskuni’s writing style does the plot justice. The book is written from Nareh’s point of view, providing insight into her struggles with coming out in a traditional Christian orthodox Armenian family, but also her qualms with how she views her identity as she was not born in Armenia.

For generations, Armenians have had a large diaspora population due to various wars and migration, and Voskuni tackles the topic incredibly. “Explore Armenia,” in the novel is a week-long “conference” that includes a series of cultural events such as: Shourchbar (traditional Armenian choreography); and a cooking class where they make a variety of classic dishes like mutabal, kofte, sarma, and sini kofte; and a brandy tasting. Through these events, Voskuni highlights how a large portion of Armenians struggle to stay connected to their roots and how they are able to overcome their insecurities surrounding not feeling cultured enough. Also, Voskuni dealt with the intricacies of identity and culture beautifully, and did not shy away from “controversial” or heavy topics. Frequently drawing reference to genocide delicately and respectfully through different characters having a mature discussion about their different viewpoints

Nareh, in a fit of despair about Trevor, tells her mother she wants to try dating Armenian men again, and is convinced to go to these events to meet potential suitors. However, unbeknownst to her mother, she meets Erubuni instead and is taken aback by her intelligence and beauty. This part in the novel has to be my favourite, as from here we get a “will-they-won’t-they” situation, made more intriguing as Nareh is not out to the general community. She faces internal struggle as she is unsure of Erubuni’s sexuality and is scared of the potential fallout that may occur if she tries her luck and finds out Erubuni is straight. Not only does Nareh discover that she may find her true love, but also discovers that she enjoys being surrounded by Armenian culture. I related to this, as Voskuni mentions how Nareh battles with feeling “Armenian enough” or “American enough” as she was born and raised in San Francisco, but still had all the culture of being raised by Armenian parents. I think it’s admirable of Voskuni to write about this relatable struggle of many diasporas as it contributes to how many Armenian readers raised outside Armenia can engage with the novel.

I particularly enjoyed the integration of casual Armenian dialogue and traditional proverbs at the beginning of each chapter — a dialect and proverbs that I spoke and heard coming from a similar background. It warmed my heart to see the inclusion of western Armenians and brought me near tears. It was also nice to see English translations of any Armenian dialogue for non-Armenian readers who may have picked this queer romance. Also, some characters spoke in “broken English,” which was humorous as it reminded me of some of my family members — many of which have English as their third or fourth language.

I confidently recommend this book. The characters were fleshed-out and unique in their own ways. I look forward to seeing what comes next from her and hope her next book is as good as this one. Even if you aren’t Armenian or aren’t on the LGBTQ+ spectrum, I still think this novel is worth the read. It is lighthearted, charming, and hard to put down.