James Blake

Being ranked second on the BBC Sound Of 2011 poll is a pretty big deal these days, but in spite of the fanfare that surrounds the annual countdown, it’s no guarantee of a solid album. Just ask The Twang. Actually, maybe don’t ask The Twang. They might sing for you.
For 22-year-old James Blake, making the shortlist of the Beeb’s poll is just one of a hundred big-ups bestowed on the London producer over the past 10 months.
Blake kept voguish musos guessing in 2010 with three excellent, but hugely varied EPs – the spooky The Bells Sketch, the throbbing Klavierwerke and the rather genius CMYK, which saw Blake work his sampling magic on music by R&B divas like Kelis, the late Aaliyah and Brandy.
Still, this upstanding trio of records hasn’t exactly made Blake a household name. Those who do know the rosy-cheeked innovator’s work are likely to associate him with dubstep – a genre so underground that Blake is probably as mainstream a mascot as it’s going to get.
But so what if loudmouth pop vixen Jessie J did him out of both the BBC top spot and the Brits’ Critics’ Choice award? Give her debut single ‘Do It Like A Dude’ a spin and you’ll have her figured out in 60 seconds. James Blake is something else. A head-scratcher.
Stunning from the first breakdown, James Blake opens with the mysterious ‘Unluck’: a bumping, grinding and hissing hodgepodge of noise that sets you up for 38 minutes of perplexing electronic sorcery. Piano-led Feist cover ‘Limit To Your Love’ is the clear crowd-pleaser, while second single ‘The Wilhelm Scream’ buries a hummable tune under a mass of deconstructed beats.
With its morose subject matter and sparse funk, Blake’s debut picks up where fellow Londoners The xx left off. His emotionally-loaded tracks will go down well with lovers of Bon Iver and Antony And The Johnsons, while the somersaulting Vocoder on ‘Lindesfarne’ will tickle fans of Imogen Heap’s ‘Hide And Seek’.
Those already acquainted with experimental neo-soulster D’Angelo (yes, him with the abs…), should spot the troubled songwriter’s influence a mile off. But it’s entirely appropriate that D’Angelo’s Voodoo is an inspiration for the young Brit – much of what Blake does is pure witchcraft.
The eponymous LP is the first time we’re allowed to lap up Blake’s voice, which was clipped and muffled to death on previous releases. His distressed boyish croon is made of pure soul, with the occasional hint of gospel. It’s beautifully fragile on ‘I Never Learned To Share’, proudly regal on the Nina Simone-esque ‘Give Me My Month’ and utterly forlorn on ‘Why Don’t You Call Me?’. On closer ‘Measurements’, our electronic bandleader even harmonises with half a dozen other James Blakes.
At times, the vocals are the record’s glimmering star. At others, they’re stifled by dense sampling. Yet this struggle between the workman and his tools is precisely what makes James Blake so special. You’re never quite sure who’s going to come out on top, but you’re happy to stick around for the battle.
The piano lines are equally compelling (Blake is classically-trained) and, when added to the jumble of rupturing melodies and exploding beats, call to mind countless musical whoah! moments: Aphex Twin using the violin as a trip hop platform, Outkast remixing Rogers And Hammerstein, James Blake letting on like he’s playing the spoons.
So there you have it. A couple of dozen listens later and I’m still not sure if man or machine finished first. All I know is I’ve got 11 hugely impressive tracks on my hands, each one haunted by a tortured narrative (see lines like “My brother and my sister don’t speak to me/But I don’t blame them”).
As debuts go, this one is powerful, engaging, and yeah, a bit odd. It jars, it unsettles and it stirs up lots of questions, but it’s this more-ish discomfort that makes James Blake such a beautiful anomaly.