Glastonbury, 1994. Forty-thousand people were hanging on his every word. The sun was setting spectacularly over the fields of Pilton, and Damon Albarn was on top of the world. The kids were pogoing, singing along, and, most importantly, lapping up his between-song banter. Somebody whipped an egg stagewards. Damon artfully dodged it. "I just got my first egg evah!" he gleefully exclaimed. "If yer gonna frow an egg at me, yer gonna 'ave to 'it me," he grinned, pointing between his eyes. "Yer gonna 'ave to 'it me there."

That was Damon at the peak of his powers, charming the world, lovable and gregarious and charismatic in all the ways "indie" bands weren't supposed to be. In a matter of months he'd leave the world of indie behind for good, as the British pop renaissance Blur tried to invent on 1993's Modern Life is Rubbish took hold of their home country. Parklife became the Bible of Britpop and Damon became the poster boy and chief pundit.

By 1996, it seemed, everyone hated Damon. They blamed Blur for Britpop's worst excesses, for pseudo-mods like Menswear and Mantaray and tight-trousered chancers like These Animal Men. But I never forgot that smiling ringmaster in the Glastonbury sunset, and I often wondered who among his peers could have orchestrated such a mass celebration. Oasis? Too surly. Suede? Too ridiculous by half. No, only Damon Albarn had the charisma, intelligence, wit and ambition to headline a national phenomenon. I hope, when he looks back and winces at his days as King of Britpop, that he remembers how great Glastonbury was.

Later in the set, after a triumphant "For Tomorrow" and a grinding "Chemical World," Damon was ready to dust off more material for the punters. "Erm, this one's for the back!" he shouted, apropos of not much. Before he could explain his reasoning, a drunk and disorderly Graham Coxon launched into the piercing riff of "There's No Other Way." It was Graham's way of telling his extrovert mate to put a sock in it, sharpish. Damon go the message, giggled and went back to musical chores.

Graham Coxon, Blur's lovable contrarian, scratchy guitar mangler, professional nerd, and frustrated musical conscience. Just as he saved Damon from his own blatherings at Glastonbury, he saved Blur from the Britpop backlash a few years later. The truth is, without Graham, Blur would have been just too much Damon Albarn, too ambitious, too Type A, too pop. Graham Coxon never delivered a simple solo when a thoughtful countermelody was available, never relied on the basic riff when he could summon a blast of noise instead. His art rock tendencies gave Damon the direction he lacked in the aftermath of tabloid stardom, and his punk rock instincts birthed the only Blur song to ever register in America, "Song 2."

Alex James' main contribution to Blur has always been his refusal to give a flying one. Alex has always understood his job. In the pop days, he was meant to look good, smoke a lot of cigarettes, and flirt with the girls in the front row. (That night at Glastonbury, Damon razzed Alex's sexy bass moves during "Girls & Boys" with shouts of "John Taylor!") In the post-pop days, Alex has taken it upon himself to become Blur's man indoors, writing magazine columns, pondering high art and cultural trash, and getting fat on a career well spent. Once he was asked what Blur would be like without him. "They were rubbish before I joined, mate," was his casual response, and you wouldn't doubt him.

As much as anything, I've always loved Blur for their group personality and their gang mentality. They're that boys-with-guitars band I always wanted to join, and if they hadn't already had an unassuming Dave the Drummer holding the show together, I just might have applied for the position.

They've also written a ridiculous number of great songs. They've made me dance ("There's No Other Way", "Girls & Boys") and they've made me cry ("This Is a Low," "Blue Jeans," "Tender"). They've played three of the four best live shows I've ever seen, and every year and a half they release a record and do it all over again. They've made it feel good to be young and in love with music, and they've done it for more than 10 years now. I figured I owed 'em at least this much thanks.

Read these Blur reviews:
Parklife
Blur
The Great Escape
Leisure
Modern Life is Rubbish
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