“Head to Head: James Blake”...................Mercer & Pickart

James Blake

James Blake

Ian Mercer David Pickart

Illustration by Sam Watson I feel a strange brand of respect for James Blake that is much like my opinion of the show Twin Peaks. Both pieces of art never make any compositional or structural sense, but the sheer creativity of their absurdity is enough to keep me from turning away. Take, for example, “The Wilhelm Scream” and “I Never Learnt to Share.” Throughout these tracks, the smallest kernels of R&B melody are ceaselessly repeated while James slowly builds straight-up strange beats underneath. The former becomes a reverb-soaked echo chamber while the latter becomes a deformed fist-pumping techno banger, but the completely-at-odds gospel vocals from the start are never abandoned. This structuring (coupled with utterly unpredictable percussion) shouldn’t work in theory, but its underlying creativity in execution keeps the project sincerely enjoyable. On the vocal side, the album employs some of the best auto-tune that I can think of. This praise isn’t exactly difficult to earn, but it should still be recognized because of the fact that Blake is one of the few to have found the secret to its use: moderation. He’ll layer many vocal tracks on top of one another, but only auto-tune one or two. It’s an effective tactic that gives his voice resonance without descending into T-Pain territory. Sadly, the album doesn’t have much of an arc to it. The best tracks are the first three; there are four weak interludes, and by the end, it’s lost quite a bit of steam. Luckily, the singles are capable of standing alone, so don’t be afraid to cherry-pick. Due to James Blake’s reputation as a highly experimental artist, I started listening to his debut album with the expectation of having my musical sensibilities challenged. This turned out to be a fair judgment - in terms of instrumentation and structure, the album is indeed full of curveballs. What I didn’t expect, however, was that an album as experimental as JamesBlake could also be so mind-numbingly boring. The album’s tedium stems from two main sources: Blake’s repetitive songwriting style and his unwillingness to depart from his signature sleepy production aesthetic. In terms of songwriting, to quote Buster Bluth, it seems like James Blake “gets off on being withholding.” He has a beautiful voice, but he chops and re-pitches it beyond recognition. He’s a talented musician, but he sticks mostly to stabbing out dissonant chords on an electric piano. Likewise, he could probably write a full verse melody, but he usually just writes a few bars and repeats them for several minutes. Blake’s production style also wears out its welcome quite quickly on the album. The atmosphere of hazy synths and glitched-out drum machines works well for the first few tracks, but the rest of the album is just more of the same. I wouldn’t mind it as much if the music was a little bit more lively, but each track drags along at the same sluggish pace. This patient rhythm is integral to Blake’s sound, but it makes it hard for me to enjoy his music for more than a few songs at a time.

My Verdict: Pacing aside, James Blake is a strong R&B? Electronic? Gospel? album that is worth a listen, if only because of the ineffability of its genre and originality of its style. Labeling it is pointless, so just let James’ croon wash over you. My Verdict: Although James Blake’s style is undoubtedly unique, it’s not one that can sustain my interest for the duration of a full album. As one of the slowest-moving records I know, I’m tempted to try listening to James Blake when I need help falling asleep. I’d just be worried about what sort of dreams I’d have.