Pulsing repetition and loud cacophony try the patience of the listener, but quickly disappear, replaced by quiet moments of melodic charm. In fact, if one ignores the song list, one might believe the album consists of twice as many songs. Keyboard interludes pepper the song list, each one a wink, suggesting a melody that might have been the primary melodic riff of a Blur tune of 1994 or 1995.

But this is not a collage of samples borrowed from other artists and then passed off as original work. At the end of the century, much ink has been spilled over this type of postmodern borrowing. Blur has a different agenda. They are putting stress on traditional pop music boundaries by using their imagination and their own creative history. With 13, Blur has on their hands the kind of grand failure that will seem visionary at some point in the future. Or not. And that, of course, is the true mark of any avant-garde work.