Inside the weird and wonderfully subversive home of Gorillaz where iconic band are brought to life

GORILLAZ: HOUSE OF KONG

Copper Box Arena, London

★★★★★

IN a discreet corner of London’s Olympic Park, you’ll find a vast, dingy looking metal warehouse.

The word KONG is picked out in big red capital letters above a menacing statue of Pazuzu, a demon-god entity from ancient Mesopotamia, only this one is unceremoniously covered in stickers.

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Welcome to House Of Kong, the endlessly weird and wonderfully subversive home of Gorillaz.

You may think of 2-D, Murdoc Niccals, Russel Hobbs and Noodle as a virtual band — product of the fevered minds of musician Damon Albarn and artist Jamie Hewlett.

But this immersive exhibition, which opened its doors yesterday at the Copper Box Arena, is the physical embodiment of their 25-year history.

So visitors get the sights, the sounds and, er, the smells that created the legend.

Having been given a sneak preview, I was sworn to secrecy about many of the surprises in store, but I can give you a few juicy details.

With headphones on, I am invited by a tour guide down a dimly lit, wood-panelled corridor with a sign at the end — again in bold capitals — which implores: “REJECT FALSE ICONS”.

The first room I enter is devoted to what is called the “miscreation” of Gorillaz, through Hewlett’s dazzling drawings.

I see how the cartoon band’s final line-up was arrived at, how a whole world was built around them and finally how they came to life through animation.

I hear the story of their wild ride into the world of music — beginning with the self-titled debut album (2001), then continuing with Demon Days (2005), Plastic Beach (2010) and so on.

This part of the exhibition is fascinating but relatively normal. It didn’t quite prepare me for the bizarre (secret) scenes about to unfold.

Without giving too much away, I get lost in total darkness at one point and have to be rescued by an assistant with a torch.

Shocking pink

At least a panic attack didn’t kick in — and I’m putting it down to a bit of Murdoc Niccals mischief.

I can also add that I was very impressed with the large, original model of Plastic Beach, the shocking-pink floating Gorillaz HQ in the South Pacific made of humankind’s detritus.

And by the time I exited through the gift shop (in time-honoured Banksy-inspired fashion) and emerged blinking in the sunlight, I felt like I was ready for a lie-down (although not in a darkened room!)

On the poster, Murdoc describes it as “an exhibition like no other.” I would add the words, “and then some”.

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