James Blake

The word ‘hype’ doesn’t come close to describing the scenes outside Whelan’s tonight. On the street, punters are shamelessly offering their grannies in exchange for a golden ticket, desperate to gain access to this James Blake show. Given that the gig sold out within 20 minutes just a month ago, the unlucky ones (and their unfortunate grannies) may as well call it a night.
Blake’s self-titled debut album is the source of all the excitement. A mysterious meeting of soulful vocals and blippy noises, it earned him a zillion ‘One To Watch’ accolades upon its release in February. Equally though, it’s made fans eager to step behind the wizard’s curtain – to try to understand this young enigma.
Hence – inside the venue – anticipation buzzes. When Blake timidly arrives on stage, a rapturous applause is offered, followed by the proverbial pin-dropping silence. Having both confused and thrilled the masses simultaneously, it seems that now the proof of this 22 year-old pudding (no offence, James) is in the live show.
And so it begins, with album opener ‘Unluck’ setting the tone. Blake’s undeniably beautiful voice is pit against sparse dub beats, while he doesn’t so much subtly dabble with AutoTune as make sweet, sweet love to it. The result is a wonderfully unsettling and futuristic fusion of man and machine – with Blake’s vocal accompanied, enhanced, and often overpowered by the dubstep beats vying for our attention. He is as at ease with the gorgeously sparse one-man-and-his-piano stylings of ‘Give Me My Month’, as he is with the ‘Oh dear, I think my head is going to explode’ drum ‘n’ bass vibrations of EP track ‘Klavierwerke’.
But that, dear reader, is the nature of the Blakien beast. He is both tender balladeer and badass dubstep master, and the fact that it’s often hard to distinguish where one ends and the other begins is all part of the magic. Case in point, the folk robot (‘faux-bot’ anyone?) effect of the especially lovely ‘Lindisfarne II’. Close your eyes, and the song’s Vocador shenanigans – teamed with gentle guitar – conjure up some kind of mechanical Fleet Foxes. Steal a peek, and nope – it’s definitely just Blake, his vocal warped beyond recognition.
Fittingly, he finishes his set with the sublime ‘The Wilhelm Scream’, whereby his voice is gradually overpowered by all manner of echoey and blippy effects, until finally, and abruptly, he’s done. There’s no gushing thanks, no encore – but also, no doubt that James Blake has lived up to the hype... and then some.