James Blake
Playing Robots Into Heaven

THE REVIEW

Is refined transatlantic songwriting better or the smoky dubstep from the London underground? To focus on technology or rather prefer the vocal approach? And what if, after all, we simply give in to our artistic impulses without setting a destination?

Over the years, many kilometers have been traveled. Pockets have gradually emptied. Pebbles of various shapes and sizes have been thrown on the asphalt, sometimes dry, sometimes wet. It's a journey in progress where the goal is the journey itself. And the pleasure is the continual discovery and personal growth rather than the result. We're not talking about a measurable sport like football, but of visions belonging to a more intimate dimension. The wanderer here is called James Blake.

"Playing Robots into Heaven" is the latest journey inviting us to join in. A path filled with contrasts in colors and moods. A rollercoaster with steep climbs and refreshing descents. Moving ourselves can make us free, but carrying the burden at times can become challenging. We must walk today; even a few steps each day will matter by the end of the day.

Ten years ago, there was only him in his little room, playing delicate piano notes. Today, that piano has been moved to a deserted nightclub in the metropolitan suburbs. The atmosphere is nocturnal, dark, but never oppressive. The journey is movement and often interaction, but here we reflect, walk, and then dance ("Fall Back" - "Tell me") alone. Outside, a low fog blends with the industrial fumes spewed out by exhausts. There's a big company with dozens of buildings stealing the landscape. The captain of industry is called Burial and seems to be a big shot in the city's establishment.

Inside the venue, the lights illuminate a stage with only instruments and machines. The music plays on a loop without an audience. The lights go on and off, as do the rhythms of the record, which are broken, deconstructed, and mixed with vocal samples and effects. When the king is naked, with electronics taking a half-step back, the path is taken for celestial ascension ("Asking to Break" - "Loading" and "I Want You to Know").

Now the climbs are becoming more demanding, the air more rarefied, and the legs start to feel the strain. From the heights, the urban landscape seems increasingly distant.

Suddenly there is a service door ("Playing Robot into Heaven"). Mr. Brian Eno opens it for us. We enter and are transported into the world of unconsciousness by soporific fumes. We'll wake up the next day. We'll be together with robots in heaven intent on playing for some entity, or perhaps we'll have to start the journey all over again with even more conviction. Either way, we will have already learned something new.