I’ve changed my tune (pun intended). Having just seen James Blake live, in a church, with real flickering candles, I wish to retract my childish and just plain silly comments in my previous post. I have seen the light. James Blake is a god and everyone everywhere should worship him. He can say whatever he wants, whenever he wants to.
I arrived alone at St Pancras Old Church an hour and a forty-five minutes before the gig was meant to start and was greeted by a scattering of equally eager fans. Some sat on benches eating vegan ice-cream others flicked through the Evening Standard for the 100th time; we were all desperately trying to pretend that the prospect of seeing JB live was nothing to us, just another gig in London. But underneath the cutting edge Shoreditch haircuts and Ray Ban glasses hid an eagerness almost impossible to contain. Twitter had informed the world that a ‘handful’ of tickets would be available on the door – we were going to do anything to get them.
Fast forward to 19.30, I’ve been met by two friends, the scattering has turned into a large-ish crowd and we’ve formed a disorderly queue, luckily I’m at the front, sort of. Even luckier, the ticket man decided to stop entrances temporarily just after we had entered. A good start.
The church was old. Signs for ‘Donations’ crowded a lonely slit in the wall, unused. Still, there was a sense that something special was going to happen. We walk into the tiny room and sit on the tiniest of chairs, Strongbow cans clinking, a jarring reminder of the incongruity of it all – I’ve never felt so guilty in my life. 
I was so overwhelmed by the promise of Blake that I had forgotten that gigs have such a thing as supporting acts. First up were Cloud Boat, an amazing duo that were obviously hand picked by James himself. They sounded like him and started the set with a song fittingly entitled I look like myself. The flashing lights that accompanied their mesmerising beats partially blinded the audience – a welcome assault on the senses.
As trickles of guitar skimmed over their minimalist beats, a sea of sound formed around the audience, and we were more than happy to drown. The guitarist used a tool that can only be described as a 21st Century slide, the blue light omitted affirms the decidedly modern feel of the whole affair. We’re in a church, Christ is suffering quietly in the background, a tangle of wires and a clutter of synthesisers and loop machines occupied the main space – this is my kind of service.
Cloud Boat’s next track, Pink Grin, provided the perfect soundscape for Sam’s (or Tom’s – they didn’t introduce themselves) soaring vocals to reach the zenith of their falsetto brilliance. When they finish their set we clap, too relaxed to digest the talent that we’ve just witnessed. (Check them out here, http://cloudboat.co.uk/, and here http://www.myspace.com/cloudboat)
The second band, Catherine Okada, is a folk ensemble. They came with banjo, ukulele and violin in tow, as well as a female drummer (HELL YEAH). Unfortunately they sounded less than memorable – the lyrics of their last song ‘pushed down by the weight of his water’ summarised their affect on the audience. Pleasant enough but uninspiring.
But the moment had come – next on was the man himself. He walks on stage with guitarist Rob McAndrews, aka ‘Airhead’ (check him out here http://www.myspace.com/airheadproduction), and beatsmith drummer, Ben Assiter. Barely saying two words to the audience they plunge right in with Unluck, my favourite track on the album. But it sounded nothing like itself and only when James began to mumble the lyrics did I recognise it. He managed to give a new shape to tunes that the loving crowd have heard countless times before, initiating a game of hide and seek as we searched our minds for the name of each song.
His voice quite literally filled the room, our ears and our hearts – the church’s acoustics created endless reverberation leaving just enough space for us to hear the hypnotic organ-like sound of his Phantom 08 synthesiser and Ben’s bewitching drum machine. I Never Learnt To Share was overwhelming: the keys resonated through the church’s beams, gently lulling us to sleep only to be jolted awake by the bass drum which hung just behind the beat. I lean in to the sound almost involuntarily and so does everyone else – we look like a cult, devoted.
Lindisfarne II sounds most like the track on the album, untampered with and full of pain-fuelled silences. No one dares breathe. No one, that is, apart from the numskull in the back who choses this precise moment to open his can of Coke. Brilliant. However, even the unwanted ‘sprrccht’ of the can seemed to fit perfectly with the song as though prompted by some kind of divine intervention – well, we were in a church. Nothing could ruin this hour and a half that we had to witness some of the most enrapturing music that Britain has to offer.
Just as we were all starting to think ‘Where the hell is Limit To Your Love?’ he bursts into the track greeted by enthusiastic cheers from the audience. At the risk of sounding vague and uninspired, I have to admit that no words appropriately translate the experience. It wasn’t exactly epiphanous, but it was bloody close. The gentle wobble that only fully manifests itself through earphones came alive, pushing up against each and every audience member creating an atmosphere of intensity and sadness.
The cherry on the cake was not the finale that had Cloud Boat re-enter the stage with a trumpet and perform Heat Half Full with Blake – a track full of distant power. Nor was it the fact that Mr Blake re-entered the room alone for an encore playing his twinkling cover of Joni Mitchell’s A Case of You. No, it was the moment when Ben, Blake’s drummer, cracked out the real snare drum in the middle of Limit To Your Love. It appeared intermittently on a few upbeats, but the clean crisp sound of that snare cut straight through the wishy-washy reverb that surrounds it, perfectly nuancing the song and reminding us that this is real music.
James Blake gets up, bows and claps to a deserved standing ovation. His humble attitude that made the gig even more intimate, however, fuelled my concern as to how his personal live performances will translate to the much (much) larger venues that he is sure to grace in the very near future. But, all in all, I had seen the light.
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Check out his collaboration with Airhead here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ZqAg_L6D4Y
