Whether you love him or hate him, there’s really no one else like James Blake out there. His unique blend of lounge singing, soul and minimalist electronica has earned him both adoration from starry-eyed fans and broad critical respect. His distinct, ethereal style has also resulted in the occasional pushback from detractors, who found his voice too lilting, his songs too repetitive and his beats too jagged.
I used to be one of them — that is, until I heard Overgrown, the much-anticipated follow-up effort from the British songwriter. It’s a warmer, more expansive and far more inviting listen than his eponymous debut, one that demonstrates Blake’s progression both as a songwriter and as a sonic architect. Previous fans of Blake will undoubtedly swoon once again, while skeptics might just be won over. In either case, it’s well worth a listen.
If there’s one thing that can be said about Blake, it’s that the guy was blessed with a truly fantastic voice, with the effortlessness and versatility of someone like Frank Ocean. It’s for this reason that some were so frustrated by his debut album — too often it felt like he was trying to hide his God-given talent under a shroud of cacophonous vocal manipulation. Now, he seems more comfortable in his own skin, and for the most part, he keeps his lush, evocative voice as the focus of each track.
The refined instrumentals also go a long way in placing Blake’s voice at the album’s forefront. In general, the backing tracks are kept calm and relaxed, with looped electronic beats and synth chirps acting as foundations over which the occasional piano or string swells can be used for dramatic effect. Album opener “Overgrown,” which slowly and masterfully builds tension in this manner, is a fine example of the maturity and restraint ever-present on this record.
Blake has said in the lead-up to Overgrown’s release that the record was highly influenced by the end of a relationship. In that sense, the amount that Blake lays himself bare on these songs seems, ironically, both a natural and gutsy move — there’s a great amount of fragility in both his lyrics and delivery, and it pays spades in giving his second record a great sense of relatability and humanity. “I want you to know / I took it with me / And when things are thrown away like they are / Time passes in a constant state,” he pines on “Overgrown,” and as the instruments chug along over his words to a dramatic conclusion, we can’t help but feel the pull of time’s inevitable passing along with him. The mid-album piano break “Dim” further exhibits Blake at his most vulnerable, as he repeatedly begs his lover over an almost folksy piano line: “Please don’t let me hurt you more.”
As such, Overgrown goes a long way in infusing Blake’s undeniable craft with some much-needed heart and soul, and there are a plethora of softly beautiful electronic-soul tracks on here that you’ll likely enjoy, including the aforementioned “Overgrown,” the fantastic first single “Retrograde” and haunting closer “Our Love Comes Back.” The best and most energetic of the bunch might be “Life Round Here,” which wields a charming, arpeggiating synth line, a hi-hat-heavy half-time beat and probably the record’s stickiest chorus.
There are also a couple interesting sidesteps to Overgrown’s generally successful formula. Fourth track “Take a Fall For Me” features a vocal performance from rapper RZA, who in turn spouts the most emotive lyric of the record: “Don’t turn away from me / What will become of me / If I can’t show my love to thee? / There’ll be none of me.” It’s a winning collaboration that makes you wish Blake would venture into the world of hip-hop more often. “Digital Lion,” a collaboration between Blake and electronic legend Brian Eno, also provides an interesting bit of late-album variety, but it ends up a bit too repetitive to work as anything more than just an experiment in production.
The record’s occasional repetitiveness is one of its few weaknesses, as “I Am Sold,” “Digital Lion” and “Voyeur” all seem a bit flat in comparison to some of the more subtly dynamic cuts on the album. You can’t win ‘em all, I suppose. With that being said, though, this is a great sophomore record, one which combines restraint and intensity to fantastic effect, and further secures James Blake as the undisputed master of a category he may himself have created. Overgrown it may be, but it couldn’t be less underwhelming.
