James Blake, Hammersmith Apollo, review: a ‘religious experience’ for soft-hearted souls
James Blake, pop’s most influential beat maker, may just be the most self-effacing figure in the business. You wouldn’t think, watching him perform side of stage at his own sold out show last night at the Hammersmith Apollo – his drummer in the centre – that this was the Mercury Prize and Grammy winning artist responsible for some of the most dominant sounds in the charts, from Kendrick Lamar’s Black Panther soundtrack to Beyonce’s Lemonade and JAY-Z’s 4:44.
If he hasn’t collaborated with a superstar, he’s no doubt inspired them – echoes of his nocturnal, trance-inducing electronics, haunting piano ballads, distorted falsetto vocals and melancholy lyricism can be found all over songs by Zayn Malik, Justin Bieber and Frank Ocean.
Since breaking through with his self titled debut album in 2011, he’s been sampled by Drake and fawned over by Kanye, while Madonna said his music “made her jealous”. The 30-year-old Blake has come a long way since his early days producing dubstep from his bedroom in North London suburbia.
For a man that still likes to hide behind his keyboard, last night Blake gave a powerful turn, with a spectacular, near-blinding light show. Simply supported by a multi-instrumentalist and drummer, each man neatly arranged on separate podiums in a stageing reminiscent of Kraftwerk, Blake’s vocals were the main attraction.
Not that he knew it – as rapturous applause met his spine-tingling renditions of hits Limit to Your Love and Life Round Here, flamenco-inspired Barefoot in the Park and slinky rap track Where's the Catch, Blake cowed his head into the crook of his elbow. “I’m so English I look away from positivity,” he joked, before thanking the crowd (which included Game of Thrones’s Maisie Williams) for listening to his fourth album, Assume Form, released in January. “Or at least, I assume you’ve listened to it,” he faltered, charmingly.
Dedicated to his girlfriend of three years, The Good Place actor Jameela Jamil, Assume Form felt deeply personal for Blake, whose lyrics are unashamedly romantic, and candid about his struggles with depression.
The Apollo, an intimate and mostly seated venue, was the perfect place to hear them. In fact, such is the veneration towards Blake’s fragile sound that, during Lullaby For My Insomniac, members of the crowd hissed at others to be silent.
As Blake’s voice rose around the room in waves, listeners, eyes wide, phones away, were completely still, as if the slightest motion might disrupt the moment. When the music ended, some rather zealous fans referred to having undergone a “religious experience”, while soft-hearted souls found tears in their eyes. Blake briskly took a single bow, and vanished before the applause was over.