James Blake- James Blake

There's something exciting and interesting about musical genres (and subgenres) hybridizing. True, musicians can still ring out some amazing music from firmly established sounds, but it's usually when new sounds and ideas are derived from the combining and re-jiggering of old ones that some of the most thrilling music is made. For instance, the late 80s/early 90s Madchester and 'baggy' scenes in England saw bands grafting 60s derived indie rock with then-new electronica. And of course, the explosion in musical genres during the 60s speaks for itself. But recent hybrids often burn themselves out quickly or reveal the shallowness of their sound when bands fail to rekindle the magic on follow-up albums. When was the last time you heard anyone talking about trip hop or dance-punk?

Still, this isn't to besmirch those joyous and novel records which seem to come out of nowhere to delight your atrophied musical worldview. James Blake's debut album has been such an occasion for me. Grafting together influences as complementary but disparate as dubstep, R&B, the vocoder-heavy vocals of Daft Punk (or perhaps Kanye West's 808s & Heartbreak is a better point of comparison), and Jamie Lidell's Multiply, also a kind of one-man samples-and-loops thing, though Lidell leans more toward funk and soul. James Blake could also be considered a first or second cousin of the xx's self titled album, if only because that record's minimalist white-people R&B helps contextualize this record (something Blake has acknowledged in the press).

Blake combines all of these together in his own unique way, crafting one of those accidental masterpieces which sneak up on you until, after enough listens, you're hearing the songs in your head while doing the dishes or waiting for friends at a bar. By paring his music down to the barest of bones, he achieves a downright Low-esque minimalism though in an entirely different genre. His cover of Feist's 'Limit To Your Love' starts out absolutely skeletal, a barely-there piano and his unaffected voice eventually joined by skittering drum beats and altered vocal samples. The next track, 'Give Me My Month', does away with any electronic elements at all, the record's most naked moment, a piano-and-vocals ballad which sounds like a less falsetto Antony.

Some complaints have been leveled at the repetition of some songs, particularly 'I Never Learnt To Share.' Blake may extend its sole lyric beyond its limit, but repetition has always been a hallmark of minimalist music. Criticizing this song for repeating a single vocal phrase for too long is missing the point; the production and way all of the sounds progress until the electro-grind peak belies the fact that James Blake is as appropriate for headphones as it is the usual R&B method of putting it on a boombox surrounded by candles as a seduction aid. Not to mention this is one of those cases where one's distaste for a song has more to do with not liking something instead of the fault lying with the song or the artist. But I digress.

I suspect that this record may be a one-off triumph for Blake, since it's difficult to imagine him going anywhere with this sound now that he's simultaneously invented and perfected it. This is the promise and the curse of hybrid music, I suppose. Just to be clear, this doesn't diminish how outstanding James Blake truly is. It's an album which makes you realize there is still much territory to explore in music. Even though, in theory, it sounds similar to other things you're familiar with, the actual product sounds original and fresh.

5 Poorly Drawn Stars Out Of 5

The National- High Violet

Much like The Walkmen, The National are a band who never elicited much interest in me based purely on reviews and word of mouth. In this era of sub-genres and sub-sub-genres, I've developed something of a mental block against bands who have a timeworn, classicist sound that can't reliably be labelled anything other than rock or indie rock. There's something...plain and uninteresting about them, or so my logic goes. And then I actually listen to them and end up loving them. It may have taken until 2010 for me to get around to The National, but they jumped to the top of my long, long list of bands to explore in further detail. High Violet is simply that good, though you may have to take my recommendation on faith.

That's because on first listen, much of High Violet passes by without making an impression. It feels like eleven versions of the same idea, with a seemingly limited palette of sounds and tempos further compounding the problem. Sticking with the album, however, soon overturns these notions. What hooked me, and what has continually kept me coming back, is the album's sheer sense of craftsmanship and songwriting consistency. The National's last album came out in 2007, and while they didn't spend that entire span of time working on High Violet, you'd believe it if someone told you they had. This is an album that was labored over, every element of sound molded until it was just right. The lyrics brim with interesting, sometimes abstract imagery, avoiding cliché and obvious sentiment but still connecting with the listener.

On High Violet, The National sound like the result of an experiment to combine the emotional resonance and cresting majesties of, say, Arcade Fire with the chilly, atmospheric production of the first Interpol album. 'Anyone's Ghost' could pass for a Turn On The Bright Lights outtake, with its up-front post-punk bass and lyrics about going out at night with headphones on, Matt Berninger's airy baritone aimed as much at his feet as it is the microphone. Album closer 'Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks', meanwhile, bears the lonesome high melodies and surprisingly solid hooks of a lost Bon Iver track (he may be doing the backing vocals for all I know, since he guests on the album).

The songs of High Violet have an orchestral and cinematic underpinning that feels like a natural development from The National's last album, Boxer. 'Runaway', in fact, is begging to be used in a movie during the post-break up montage sequence of a 20-something romantic lead. This is also a nocturnal album through and through, but more in a “I can't sleep because I've got a lot on my mind” way than a creepy, brooding way. Which is why Massive Attack'sMezzanine and The xx's self titled album kept coming to my mind while listening to High Violet. They all share a certain atmosphere and vibe that goes well with those nights where you can't sleep because of something (or someone) that's on your mind. It wouldn't be much of a stretch to picture Massive Attack's take on the aptly named 'Sorrow', a dour lament about lost love. But no, these songs belong to The National. It's hard to imagine anyone else delivering the stunning middle three songs of this album, 'Afraid Of Everyone', 'Bloodbuzz Ohio', and 'Lemonworld', or the sounds-weird-in-concept-but-is-nowhere-near-that-morose 'Conversation 16', with its dream-like lyrics that somehow encompass romance, zombies, and suicide.

High Violet is not the most immediate, flashy, revolutionary, or controversial release, but it doesn't want to be. Instead it's just a damn fine piece of music, one that may not instantly win you over, but—you'll have to take my word for it—one that is also worth the time and effort to enjoy.

5 Poorly Drawn Stars Out Of 5

Album Of The Week: The xx- XX

I wonder, has there ever been a study that determines whether people tend to prefer singers from their own gender? I ask because I've been listening to a lot of PJ Harvey and The Velvet Underground this week, and it's got me thinking about this very subject. For a time I despised Nico's songs on the first Velvets album, but now I love her voice and welcome the change from Lou Reed. Meanwhile, for some reason I have to consciously think "I want to listen to a female voice today" to get around to PJ Harvey, Sleater-Kinney, etc. I don't know why I divide music along gender lines, and I probably shouldn't. The point is, bands who have both female and male singers present something of a solution to my problem, since I don't think of The xx as either a "male" or "female" band, just as I don't think of the first Velvets album as "belonging" to Reed or Nico.

I have to assume that The xx is wrapped up in gender politics and interaction between the sexes, since so many of their songs on XX are about love, whether it be having it, losing it, or wanting it. I'd like to think their name is a reference to the XX and XY chromosomes, but it's likelier that they couldn't think of a good one and chose 'xx' to denote a blank space. This same reserve and borderline apathy is abundant in their slow, mellow music. There's a "late night, in the night club/upscale bar, romantic tension" atmosphere to their music that's borrowed from the first Interpol album and Junior Boy's So This Is Goodbye, but The xx never reach the emotional peaks of either band, only really lifting Interpol's guitar tone and reverb-heavy effects. No, their music is more detached and minimalist, as if a post-punk band dropped all punk influences and brought in some R&B, in particular a focus on vocals. Furthermore, if you added a beat and a couple jazzy samples to 'Shelter', you'd be at least halfway to Portishead, or any number of other trip hop/downtempo electronic groups.

The xx's music may remind one of post-punk, trip hop, and R&B, but after a couple listens to this album, an astonishing sense of originality arises. Don't misunderstand me; they're not one of those left-field bands who sound like nothing you've ever heard before. But no one, that I've heard of, anyway, has put the pieces together quite like this. It's even more astonishing that the band are in their early 20s, because the self assured performances, pristine arrangements, and IV-drip melodies are the kind of thing most groups have to work their way toward. Though not as affecting (at least to this heart) as, say, Low's Mimi and Alan, the female/male co-vocals on tracks like 'Heart Skipped A Beat' are truly amongst XX's best moments. Despite the withdrawn, minimalist music, there's a real sincerity to the singing on this album even if, on the surface, it sounds monotone and indifferent. It's like how admitting to someone that you love them can only be done with a neutral voice, otherwise you'll sound too desperate or too insincere. Or you're expecting to get your heart broken when the other person doesn't respond in kind, so you play it off as irony.

While XX is one of the best albums of 2009, it's hard to imagine that whatever they come out with next will have quite the same impact or refreshing sense of originality. Not that their sophomore effort is fated to be bad; they could comfortably make a career of perfecting or slightly altering the little corner of the world they've carved out with their debut. But The xx seem like one of those "lightning strikes once" phenomena, where a band's first release is so distinctive and self assured that there isn't much room for things like maturity or change without completely altering the formula of what makes them so good. But, hey, whatever. XX is great, and that's all you need to know.

Video: The xx- Crystalised

Hey so, other than Girls and Cymbals Eat Guitars, the other big "out of nowhere" indie band from '09 for me is The xx. Oddly enough I haven't done reviews of any of these bands yet, but that'll change soon. Anyway, give this video a watch/listen and you'll have a good idea of what their album sounds like. It's pretty much just 40ish minutes of this, which is to say, addictive, compelling, and downtempo post-punk/indie rock.