From Melancholy Hill to Majestic Mountain: Gorillaz Live 2026

Noodle runs through a Jungle Book inspired forest, 2-D battles a cyclops octopus, Bruce Willis speeds in a car chase: yes this is a concert review. Creative madness and visual overwhelm is at the mind-boggling heart of Jamie Hewlett and Damon Albarn’s latest live form of the first cartoon band.

When Gorillaz released The Mountain (2026) earlier this year, I suppose a part of me held some stuffy bias toward the potential of a band’s ninth album, but I made two mistakes. Firstly, Gorillaz are better seen as a fluid collective, rather than your traditional band (i.e., Blur, Oasis). Part-human, part-animation, part-Albarn’s passion project, part-genre inclusive experiment, Gorillaz are a cultural phenomenon to be seen as a collection of parts, eras, and influences. Gorillaz is Albarn and Hewlett’s plaything turned accidental global success. My second mistake, as you might’ve guessed, was to underestimate the newest album. Created around visits to India, layered grief, and a constantly changing political landscape, The Mountain (2026) feels like an exploration of different worldly matters, whilst being surprisingly personally reflective and, often, fun. 

‘The Mountain’ title track opens up the set whilst fans around First Direct Arena crane to get a look at what Gorillaz live even looks like. Will we get ABBA Voyage holograms of the famous cartoon caricatures? Or Damon Albarn dressed in odd attire, as ‘Feel Good Inc,’ blasts out the speakers? Windmill, windmill for the land, Turn forever hand in hand. What follows, instead, is something much more grounded, though no less mad.

Damon Albarn is centre-stage, with various musicians around him including flautist Ajay Prasanna and four  gospel backing singers. Gorillaz are generous with their set – interspersing older favourites with a focus on the newest record. The guest appearances are staggering. Just scraping the surface of performers, Joe Talbot, of IDLES, lights up ‘The God of Lying’ whilst Bootie Brown and Yasiin Bey respectively energise an already enamoured crowd. 

At times, the onslaught of photos, videos, animations, internet footage, war imagery, lights and colours, amidst the dense music, is disorientating, hallucinatory, simply too much. But, perhaps this is the point. At one point, someone in a muppet costume (or a real muppet – reality now exists only outside the arena) rolls in a trolley with a large red button labelled ‘Algorithmic Atrophy’. Now the set’s overwhelming content is recognised as the familiar doomscroll or mind-fog at always being one click away from a whole world of information. In contrast, the recurring mountain motif in Hewlett’s artwork for this album seems like a far-off, desired escape. It is poignantly out of reach, shrouded in wistful clouds. If Plastic Beach existed in an artificial reality, The Mountain instead gets closer to a supernatural realm. 

There’s a sense that this set could be tessellated four times over, with just as many hits and deepcuts enjoyed. The Gorillaz universe has become so vast and yet always loyally devoted, I even wonder if anyone would be disappointed if they chose to just play the whole of Demon Days (2005) or Plastic Beach (2010). One track stood out as unmissable though. “There’s so many amazing people in this album … but this song is for one person”, Albarn half-mumbles as he sits down at the central piano. ‘Cloud of Unknowing’ holds the set’s emotional heart, as a picture of the late Bobby Womack plays against his rich recorded voice and videos of fighter-jet filled skies. The link between images in the set is often purposefully uncertain, but a theme of war is near-constant. This segment, however, is a tribute to Womack. Albarn keeps his creative cards close to his chest, but this is a moving moment, even if clouded in unknowing. 

But, no time to get comfortable. ‘Delirium’ takes the set back to its mountainous madness, with Mark E. Smith’s posthumous vocals taking the introduction of death and sending it up. With unused Smith vocals from the days of Plastic Beach (2010), the link between earlier Gorillaz work and the newest record are strengthened. Time works differently in this world, and in the drawn universe of Gorillaz. Where Smith can be somewhat revived, so too can the Gorillaz members be immortalised in animation. Though 2-D is not exactly Damon Albarn (I’ll admit, it gets confusing), there is a poignancy to the embodied artist performing in front of videos of an ageless character. I guess legacy and immortality are always linked to music, Gorillaz just know how to be playful with it. 

A highlight from the set is Michelle Ndegwa’s (vocalist) reimagined lead solo for fan favourite and cultural anthem, ‘Kids With Guns’. A soul and gospel singer best known for her work with Gorillaz, as well as collaborations with artists such as Yard Act, Jorja Smith and Liam Gallagher, Ndegwa brings a strengthened theatricality to the track’s iconic monotonous delivery. 

Support act, Argentinian rapper Trueno, returns to freestyle rap on ‘Clint Eastwood’, a particularly energised moment to close out the evening. The Gorillaz is a growing family, as Albarn tells the crowd, perhaps revealing the key to sustained, international, intergenerational success – bringing others up with you.

The mountainous set is worth the climb, and a whole lot more fun than Albarn’s initial sarcasm would have you believe.

Words by Francesca Lynes

Gorillaz played: 

‘The Mountain’

‘The Happy Dictator’

‘Tranz’

int dark pop

‘Tomorrow Comes Today’

‘19/2000’

‘The God Of Lying’ (With Joe Talbot, IDLES)

‘The Moon Cave’

‘El Mañana’

intro madam

‘On Melancholy Hill’

‘The Empty Dream Machine’

‘Cloud Of Unknowing’

‘Delirium’

‘Andromeda’

‘Stylo’ (Yasiin Bey)

‘Damascus’ (Yasiin Bey)

‘Kids With Guns (Michelle Ndegwa)

intro

‘Dirty Harry’ (Bootie Brown)

‘The Shadowy Light’

‘The Sad God’

‘The Hardest Thing’

‘Orange County’ (Kara Jackson)

‘The Manifesto’ – Trueno

‘Feel Good Inc’ (POs – De La Soul)

‘Clint Eastwood’