Tag Archives: james blake

Seabirds and seabeds

When Hot Chip performed in Manchester on their joint-header tour with LCD Soundsystem, the two bands joined forces at the end of the show for a cover of the Alessi Brothers’ breezy, soft-rock gem, “Seabird”. A couple of years later, a British trio called Vondelpark, with a vocalist whose brotherly mumble resembles that of Joe Goddard, have released their debut album, Seabed, which evokes a rather similar mood. Continue reading Seabirds and seabeds

Modern estival vampires

The fraudulent promise of summer on a wind-blasted, sun-glazed weekend. When I listen to episodes of “This American Life”, the radio show presented by Ira Glass, it feels like perpetual ‘fall’. There are chance sounds and textures in songs from the past that switch up interchangeably with those of the present.

Continue reading Modern estival vampires

Stress, & Lack Thereof

I put it to you that Justin Timberlake is an unlikely hero of mine. But the lustrous, laser-guided R&B of “My Love” and “LoveStoned / I Think She Knows” made FutureSex/LoveSounds a landmark release; no-one even attempted to try and match it. Continuing the idea that Timbaland saves his best production tricks for his near-namesake, we now get “Suit & Tie“. Continue reading Stress, & Lack Thereof

James Blake — “Retrograde”

It’s bottomless, the end of the world. You’re falling, you’re being swallowed up, you’re disintegrating, the universe expands, everything recedes to a singularity. That’s certainly the vision of Lars von Trier in Melancholia, and of Yannis Philippakis in “Moon”.

That’s not what James Blake‘s “Retrograde” is about—though the music video stylishly depicts an asteroid devastating a creepy country house—but that’s certainly what the song sounds like. Those keening, careening synths in the chorus, grating against each other like enraged celestial bodies. The forlorn piano-work, filtered through a decaying, ruined air. And the bass, monotonic, rumbling and tumbling around the lowest end of the audible spectrum when it occasionally chooses to intrude upon the song.

“Ignore everybody else—we’re alone now,” Blake urges his lover, but he’s chased by his own ghostly echo. Then, in the chorus, he has a revelation: “Suddenly I’m hit / Is this darkness or the dawn?” But all around him everything is exploding; the musical fireworks speak of an inner turmoil.

On Blake’s debut LP, there were undoubted weak spots, principally when he settled back on his piano stool, diverted his voice away from the laptop, and came off sounding too meek, too plaintive. “Retrograde” promises a lot: the piano’s there, but it’s smouldering; the vocals are unmeddled-with, but imbued with a lustful sleaze. The song hangs on a wordless, soulful vocal hook, which spirals into an effortless grace, but “Retrograde” won’t settle for mere prettiness and artifice. It’s uncomfortable in its own skin, threatening to run away but never actually doing so—like the title of the album it comes from, it’s overgrown. But distinctly not overwrought.

For your consideration: this year’s alternative, accidentally-festive Christmas banger.
(Following 2008’s “Ready For The Floor“, which was guaranteed to make the post-turkey washing-up go faster, and 2010’s “Hannibal“.)