REVIEW: James Blake By James Blake

I would think that designing a house and producing a record have distinct similarities. A foundation of sorts, walls, polished windows to let the light in - the architecture always says a lot about how the architect wants his or her creation to be experienced. I have just moved into a new place that is totally devoid of the usual necessities (a washing machine, pots and pans - the internet!). The empty floorboards are waiting to be filled with the things that indicate new life. And James Blake has done something very similar through his debut LP.

2010 saw Blake flash brilliantly onto the horizon with a collection of quickly released EPs. The Bells Sketch, CMKY and Klavierwork EP each presented something new and unique to the world of music, through his vocally-warped approach to traditional post-dubstep and minimalism. What this tripartite journey didn’t reveal to us was that the boy could sing.

The self-titled record begins in a similar vein to his EPs, where the hanging silences are just as important as the precisely landed samples. It seems Blake is eager to surprise, only revealing his mature soul-infused voice - (the fact does nothing to explain his mere 22 years of existence) – in second track 'Unluck', where he pines for the “treated walls” of his childhood. His gifted songwriting truly reveals itself in heartbreak anthem, 'The Wilhelm Scream' - “I don’t know about my dreaming any more/all that I know is I’m falling”; succinct in its explanation of how a boy falls in love with a girl (i.e., slowing spinning in mid-air until gravity kills you). The heartache continues in the slow burning cover of Feist’s 'Limit To Your Love', followed by the sparse piano-driven ballad, 'Give Me My Month', which asks to “let (him) see where she has gone”.

Blake is a music school graduate, which explains why the record owes as much to Southern gospel and British coastal-folk as it does to the grime-infested early work of producers such as Burial. 'Measurement' implores the listener to “watch their faith in prayers”, lyrically mimicking the salvic tones set in the song’s astute choral layering. 'Lindisfarne I and II' pay indirect homage to fellow vocal-manipulator Justin Vernon (of Bon Iver), with their up-in-the-woods mentality and earthen song-craft. Alternatively, 'I Mind' proves that despite his wild sonic exploration, Blake does not shy away from the dance floor - the track’s moody syncopation will move you!

I’m writing this review and the record player has just stopped spinning. The wooden house is emptied of sound. It’s amazing what you begin to hear when the music stops. James Blake knows this, and has created something really special with this knowledge. “Beacon don’t fly too high”, he repeatedly implores in 'Lindisfarne II'. If the kid is referring to himself, then he is shit out of luck - this is one star whose rise is only beginning.

Written by Theo Sangster.