Hi all! Welcome back to No Skips, where I choose an album every week that I deem to have no skips and give my commentary on it. James Blake’s self-titled record from 2011 is groundbreaking for its reflections on popular genres at the time such as dubstep, and for officially launching one of the most influential producers of the 2010s. Whether you know his name or not, you’ve likely heard Blake’s contributions to the work of Travis Scott and Metro Boomin, along with the buzz around his recent collaborative record with Lil Yachty.
Sounding like Justin Vernon during his features on Ye’s “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy,” Blake gives listeners an idea of what they’re getting into during the intro track, “Unluck.” The brilliant use of Auto-Tune is a sign of the times before its over-implementation made the tool oversaturated. He produced the entire record, and his production capabilities are admirable from the beginning with this pulsating and complex beat.
“The Wilhelm Scream” is often lauded as the album’s best track and rightfully so. Looking into information about this record led me to find that this impassioned track covers a song by Blake’s father, James Litherland (yet another James). He was part of the band Colosseum, whose prog-rock style may have influenced this song’s progression from fragmented vocals to a bunch of noise.
Keep in mind this record is primarily electronic, though “I Never Learnt to Share” utilizes electric guitar. The composition is drawn out as more instruments are added to the loop, including different takes of Blake’s voice — and yes, the human voice is an instrument. The song reaches a fulfilling climax during the last minute that could’ve fit right on Porter Robinson’s “Spitfire,” also released in 2011.
“Lindisfarne I” is an interesting experiment with vocoded vocals. I’ll maintain the man knows how to use Auto-Tune, though this stripped-back acapella would’ve been better without the vocoder. I’ll let it slide since “Lindisfarne II” follows and improves on the foundations of the previous track. It’s bizarre that this is the only two-parter on the record since it drags out one of the weaker melodies for over five minutes, though the repetition of “Beacon don’t fly too high” is angelic.
“Limit to Your Love” brings more of the human element to the record since Blake’s voice is mostly unfiltered and the song’s melody is largely led by a piano. The lyrical content is dominated by “There’s a limit to your love,” which is augmented by the lines, “Like a waterfall in slow motion” and “Like a map with no ocean.” The aquatic imagery here could’ve been complimented by something reminiscent of the sounds on Ichiko Aoba’s “Windswept Adan.” I should also cover that album in this column, but I don’t have enough time left at this university.
“Give Me My Month” keeps the pleasantness of piano ballads going, though “To Care (Like You)” may be the most emotional track on the record. Blake’s strained singing leads into an incredible vocal loop, and his trademark higher-register delivery makes its foray. The final minute hints at some sort of build-up that never arrives; yet I’m unsure if a climax would’ve fit the song’s vibe. This is definitely one for if you’re in your feels.
“Why Don’t You Call Me” is pretty somber and is the last interlude-esque track that takes us into the final two tracks. “I Mind” is quite the head-bobber despite Blake’s formula of stopping and resuming the track’s momentum. The vocal samples must go through an entire scale’s worth of notes as Blake simply sings the track’s title at the forefront a handful of times.
The simple backdrop on the outro track, “Measurements,” gives the various mantras Blake sings a chance to shine. Out-of-sync vocal takes in multiple pitches give the illusion that he’s backed by different vocalists, but it’s just him. In a landscape where it’s becoming more standardized to sanction the creation of songs to tens or hundreds of people, it’s always impressive when someone like Blake helms all aspects of his music-making.
I may be over-exaggerating the quality of this record as Blake has honed his craft since his formative years, but I’ve always had a soft spot for it. Furthermore, it came out on my eighth birthday, and while I was stuck exclusively listening to my mom’s Pandora radios back then, I must’ve been destined to encounter this fellow James and write a retrospective review of his self-titled record 13 years later.