James Blake:James Blake

9/10 dropps
A&M Records / ATLAS; 2011

James Blake’s debut is minimal, soulful, tender and captivating all at once. The album is heavy on the electronics, composed of samples layered upon other samples, tight and precise drum kits, wavering synthesizers, and resonating bass. As abundant as that description may seem, I don’t really think words can accurately articulate the sensations James Blake is able to create throughout his songs. “The Wilhelm Scream,” the second song on the record, is a testament to Blake’s song-crafting capabilities. The song opens quietly with a synthesizer and proceeds into drums popping like musical fireworks. This effect continues to build and build upon itself, slowly but surely, until it culminates in a pulsing wall of sound. All the while, Blake is gently croons, “I don’t know about dreams, I don’t know about my dreaming anymore. All that I know is that I’m falling, falling, falling.” It’s incredibly sincere and gentle, but vastly powerful at the same time.

Repetition and building are themes crucial to Blake’s music. Each and every song truly needs to be heard in its entirety to understand the subtle transitions and changes that Blake uses to reach the apex of each track. “I Never Learnt To Share” capitalizes on repetition, with Blake hazily singing, “my brother and my sister don’t speak to me, but I don’t blame them” infinitely throughout the song. This horribly depressing thought goes along with the music itself, which in this case is a slow, trudging, beast founded on a sparse, almost non-existent rhythm. It may sound absurd, but Blake manages to build around silence and pauses like a well-versed jazz musician. The song ultimately incorporates drums until finishing with the bass swelling to epic proportions, breathing life out of your speakers.

“Limit To Your Love” was released a while back ago as a single, but it is one of the best moments on the entire record. Blake reshapes the Feist original into a soul piece spliced with dubstep. The song begins with separated and distant piano playing and Blake’s voice at its most human. A minute in, the song fades to silence and the bass booms and dances violently, but in a way that adds purpose to the song. It’s something to work up to, building and building until everything is incorporated together – piano, bass, cymbals, drums, and vocals. It’s both danceable and sensual, but it is entirely dressed in darkness and a sense of pain.

Truthfully, Blake seems to grab inspiration from all sorts of sounds and artists. There are hints of the dreary anguish of Bon Iver’s For Emma, Forever Ago at times, especially in the two-part “Lindesfarne” piece. Blake also showcases the tendency to veer towards the minimalist dubstep realm of acts like Burial. Extending further past that, the record incorporates R&B, soul and jazz music. It’s a culmination of styles and techniques from an incredibly talented and young producer. “I Mind” displays his ability to edit and control different tracks, as he clips, warps, and layers his voice as a sort of instrument for the song. The choir-esque vocals on album closer, “Measurement,” are outstanding, and the quiet, trudging bass gives the choir with something off which it can bounce.

The record isn’t the most accessible one you might find, but after spending time with it and working to understand the subtlety of Blake’s music, there is a lot to discover. This debut demonstrates Blake’s tremendous capabilities both as a producer and an artist – as someone who is able to express a wide range of emotions and sounds through largely electronic and artificial ways. He manage to make it all incredibly beautiful at the same time.

-Wilson De Gouveia