On James Blake and the Power of Lyrics

drop the pin on the mood that you’re in

In a tangible context, this is a lyric from Assume Form, James Blake’s latest album. But can’t it also register as some sort of lover’s cry? A powerful proclamation? A lesson about love and understanding? Maybe all.

It’s January. Midday. Downtown Dallas. Highway 75. I heard this line and forgot where I was going. A rush of blood and fire bounced through my body. It was simple but intricate. Self-sufficient and independent. Exuberant: existing with its own life. It had a heartbeat. I’m already a sucker for lyrics but this one hit — kind of like Cane’s or Velvet Taco in my drunk belly at 2 am.

At its core, it’s an earnest millennial reference. It’s familiar. We drop pins and send locations. We snap our food, post our gym vids and carry on. But I’ve never connected a task this simple with a feeling so far outside of the intended purpose. In just one line it sums up the idea of reciprocity, the power of give-and-take and the importance of a relationship built on equanimity.

Before I listen to any of Blake’s material, there’s an expectation of what I might hear: layers, metaphors, idioms, seductive afterthoughts, creamy falsettos.

This expectation — although maybe a bit vain and self-obsessed — is precedented: perhaps derived from his paradigm of earlier work. On Blake’s 2011 self-titled album, ‘The Wilhelm Scream’ — a spooky proclamation about when the cyclical trials associated with being a committed artist collide with self-destruction — was the first track I heard. In 2013, he released Overgrown with hearty gems like ‘Retrograde’ and ‘Dlm’. When he released The Color in Anything in 2016, I didn’t think anything thereafter could measure up.

By design, Assume Form — both the title track and the album opener — sets off an eerie trip down transparency lane. There’s an urgency in the lyrical fabric that I hadn’t yet discovered.

“[Connecting] motion to feeling,” for what feels like the first time, I was impressed with the candid temperament. There was a desire to want to connect with a world outside of himself. In earlier albums, I can recall a more confined and abstract approach to delivering a message. Of course, it’s easier to blame this fresh disposition on a newfound love.

I will be touchable by her, I will be reachable

“Her” could refer to his new dreamboat of a lover — also my new celebrity obsession — Jameela Jamil.

On a universal level, “her” can mean other things: the world as we know it, the Earth itself, the guilty pleasures we succumb to on a daily basis, our vices, our passions, our dreams, our full human potential. All of these invariably reserve the right to be reachable and/or addressed.

Is it just a song about killing the ego? Or perhaps one about surrendering to that of a love worth saving?

It feels like a thousand pounds of weight holding your body down

In a pool of water, barely reaching your chin

Surprise. A narrator? This voice — something like an inner conscience, weighted like the words he speaks — brought me down in the water with it. I held my breath.

But then…

Now you can feel everything…

I will assume form, I’ll leave the ether

Doesn’t it get much clearer?

Doesn’t it seem connected?

Doesn’t it make you happier?

…Just knowing the sun will be out

I’m breathing again.

These lines, immediately following a bleak and uncanny suggestion of despair, lead me right back to the light. This is where I celebrate the idea of surrendering to the unknown, knowing instead of doubting, and living in the power of uncertainty.

“The plan is to become reachable, to assume material form, to leave my head and join the world,” Blake shares in an interview. Whether he knows it or not, joining the world is something he already achieves in his broad field of collaborations.

‘Mile High’ — the collaboration with Travis Scott and Metro Boomin — is a tasty gem, affirming his ability to merge different styles and genres beyond conventional standards — transcending boundaries of one-dimensional artistry.

In the past, he’s collaborated with names in pop culture like Kendrick Lamar, Beyonce, RZA, Chance The Rapper, Drake — all of which could be considered unlikely unions. But aren’t unlikely unions the new norm? Isn’t this just how blended our culture — and everything else — is becoming?

In his early days, most would quickly label his sound unconventional. But he’s made it part of his signature to break new ground where he can.

‘Into the Red’ and ‘I’ll Come Too’ reinforced my weakness for romance and gushy shit. Blake isn’t usually gushy but I like it.

She watched me lose face every day, rather than lose me

If we’re suddenly discussing loyalty and unconditional support for another human being, this lyric sums up quite a bit. In the age of the Internet, when losing face is just as fatal as any form of online character assassination, a lyric like this — in all its open vulnerability — is refreshing.

‘Don’t Miss It’ was on when I parked the car. This track was already familiar. He had dropped this as a single in May of 2018. The piano consumed me. The lyrics tell a story about the pulling agony of sacrificing something that’s desired for something that’s needed. It was an artist’s song — or, really, any person pursuing something beyond the ordinary. Nonetheless, it resonated.

It was cold and windy outside — the kind of piercing wind that makes you teary unless you have something to shield your face from it. I hadn’t hit the wind yet, but before I opened the door I had to wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. I blame the album. Or maybe those onions I had sitting in the front seat.

*Disclaimer: I understand some of the reviews and opinions on this album aren’t very receptive. Some work really hard to stretch the length of the spectrum on what makes for a “good” album. But really, I just love all things Blake so it’s hard for me to not like this. It’s refreshing and easy on the ears. I respect him enough to appreciate his exploration. I already know what he can do, he’s proven himself. So when speaking about artists whom I’ve grown to revere I learned it’s not my job to scrutinize what they put out. I wasn’t in the studio, I wasn’t in his head. I’m just a listener.