James Blake - James Blake

There’s a danger when so much hype is placed upon you, that you are never quite able to live up to it. But that’s not something London singer-songwriter James Blake has to worry about, because his self-titled debut is sensational – and in all the right ways.

Most of you will have heard his inspired cover of Feist’s Limit To Your Love on the radio, but placed in the context of the album, it sounds even better. The bass throbs away when you least expect it, and if you’re listening on good quality speakers, it really is something else. This isn’t just music you hear, it’s music you feel.

James’s vocals lie at the heart of this; they’re soulful, packed with emotion, and the way he multi-tracks them throughout the album, laying one layer on top of another presents a unique and attention-grabbing experience for the listener. The layers slide in and out of each-other, coming forward then falling back like waves, the sound of a distant idyllic shore.

Tracks like To Care (Like You) are classic chill-out, and those looking for a simple categorisation of this album will find it there. Despite all the singer-songwriter stuff being bandied around, this is a laid back electronic album at its core – tripped out beats and bleepy synths painting minimalistic soundscapes. The important thing though is that James’s personality and soul is what takes this album to the next level; that gives it that personal element, reaching out beyond the CD player and into the air itself. The top 10 UK chart placing the album has already achieved is testament to that personal connection being made.

This is an unpredictable album – it will never do what you expect it to do. See Why Don’t You Call Me? as a prime example. It starts off as a simple, piano led ballad. Even the name seems steeped in classic love overtures. But then halfway through, the techno-wizardry kicks in, the James Blake magic as it were, and the tracks skips and jumps away with itself, chilling altered vocals breathing out over stabs of icy static.

In its most outré moments, like the almost entirely acapella Lindisfarne I, vocoder is thrown into the mix – threatening to make the album seem almost too cold, too mechanical. But it never does. Instead the robotic touches only add to the charm; they are part of the mystique, part of the wonder and awe that James Blake casts on the listener. His debut is without doubt an intensely beautiful album, instilled with a distinct sense of identity. And it lives up to every single inch of the hype.