Assume Form

Though James has worked with some of the most gargantuan names in the industry, he’s always suffered from bouts of loneliness as indicated through his music up to this point. Despite this, in between The Colour In Anything and its succeeding leg of work, James found love in the shape of Jameela Jamil, and we first saw a peephole glimpse of the positivity it has sparked in him on the preluding cut, ‘If The Car Beside You Moves Ahead’. Though it would wind up as just a stand-alone single, it nonetheless alludes to Blake’s long-reclusive experiment electronic phase with startling, staggered vocal edits that urges the listener to lean in to decipher the coded lyrics.

James Blake’s newest album Assume Form, is a true revelation of himself. No longer is he piecing together a sprawling collage, but honing in on a watertight eleven song set that culminates into his most cohesive body of work. Even by observation of the artwork that faces this record, it represents a progression of his state of mind. Where before he was obscured, distanced or in another dimension, he is now front and center. He is truly unveiling himself to us, pulling back the intentionally foggy layers that were once present, like he is pulling back his hair on the cover. Lyrically, the album continues this flux into positivity, and while it is hard to distinguish upon initial inspection, the sonics are still textbook Blake.

The songs that make up Assume Form fluctuate between joyous turning points and abrupt shivers of doubt, yet introduces itself with undoubtedly the weakest limb of this body of work. The title track is paradoxically directionless, never settling on a complimentary set of ideas. Its chorus has little impact since it is not built up to or anticipated, it simply appears from the ether. James doesn’t flow from section to section as much as he hops from one to the next, the same way a Concorde used to spread across distant lands - subtle strings come in for a verse, an irritating vocal loop for another. Blake doesn’t greet them fluently, instead actively pushing each element away as if he’s purposely keeping them separated.

‘Mile High’ is undoubtedly the most tantalizing track on paper through its star power - a collision of James, psychedelic auto-crooner Travis Scott and ominous super-producer Metro Boomin. The product of studio time with these three is, however, not exactly the blockbuster collaboration one would expect. Instead of bringing out the best in each other, compromise takes its toll on the sonic eccentricities of each other’s sound, prefering to step into a dull grey area rather than into one another’s world. The wild jungle of sounds of Scott and Blake’s previous collab ‘STOP TRYING TO BE GOD’ is light years above this, let alone miles. It certainly sets a vibe thanks to Metro and his production cauldron, stirring in rattling percussion, a woozy bassline, and ethereal vocal calls. But disappointingly, the result is drab moodiness rather than the flashing fireworks we should expect from these names combined.

In his moments of doubt, James can offer tense tidal waves that send him away from shore. ‘Tell Them’ demonstrates what could have been with the previous track, one again employing Young Metro’s rattling percussion, but this time with alt-soul talent Moses Sumney. His liquidated vocals soar past Scott’s dreary autotune, especially at the tip of the refrain, cutting through the volts of synthesizer and shattering the glass strings crescendos. Metro adds more punch to this track, finding the balance between James’ style and his own understated hip-hop groove, lacing crushed drums into the backseat, supporting the song as it glides along. James’ vocal woons and harmonies are incredibly potent here also, as he reflects on the fling he had on his previous song and how his conflicting mind holds him back: “In the snake pit so long, I've got posters up”.

Finally evading the crowd of feature guests that pack the first part of the record, James becomes numb to the serenity at the true bulk of Assume Form, beginning with ‘Can’t Believe The Way We Flow’. James creates a rainforest of sound, brimming and overflowing with aural wildlife, his vocals guiding them like Snow White. Excitement courses through the nervous system as the drum snares switches the rhythm up from the initial vocal sample hinting at a less stimulating, more plodding tempo. Deep vocal chasms pollute your headphones, layering over each other like tidal waves, the instrumental is so eloquently molded. Plus, the song James pens matches the standard too, one that really harnesses his bewitching falsetto, and one where you are living and thriving in the happiness Blake is experiencing on this album, the daily surprise of being with someone you love.

James asks two questions to himself later in the saga, ‘Are You In Love?’ and ‘Where’s The Catch?’. He is at his most irresolute state, lost from the contentment he seeks. The former is refreshingly minimal, how the organ plays with the electronic synth glissandos. It allows for James to fill the song with his thoughts, the most pertinent being a continuation of the title, ‘Do your best impression for me’. The second part of the story’s emotional climax is ‘Where The Catch?’, a song that sees Andre 3000 steps off his golden throne to bless us mere mortals with a golden verse, no sweat drips from his crown. Blake’s vocals are aching, the song is propelled by a well-balanced kick-drum, cutting through the escalating piano that provides an audio backdrop to the tension James feels, tension that he is creating himself and will soon realise and rise from.

‘Don’t Miss It’ provides a hopeful closing statement, James giving us advice about appreciating the world around us as if he’s experienced it all so we don’t have to. The warbling pianos sound as strained as the vocals, actively displaying emotion rather than being an unnecessary production trick to blanket Blake’s hidden tribulations.

A gushing epilogue to the record forms with ‘Lullaby For My Insomniac’, a song James literally penned to help someone to sleep, serving as a meditative, albeit quiet ending to Blake’s most upfront and positive album so far. It’s also a return to form for him musically, and the two aren’t strictly linked, it just so happens that Blake has finally developed a form of beautiful concision, taking a few of his many sounds and realms, focusing on them, and using them to project his current state of bliss.

Although Assume Form does miss out on those electronic freak-outs, what we get in return is an album that puts songwriting first, using it the launchpad for the atmosphere circulating around it, as well as the satisfying conclusion to a narrative arc that spans James Blake’s entire career so far. Spring has sprung.