The Weekly Coos

Continuing to grow and explore new foundational soundscapes has always been part of the intrigue of James Blake’s music. Though centered within electronic music, we’ve heard him construct more productions via different instruments or vocal melodies. Assume Form saw him get more poppy; The Colour of Everything incorporated more soul; it all stemmed from a fantastic debut that took different avenues to create wonderful music. That continues in Playing Robots Into Heaven, though he plays with some of his past strengths, bringing some more experimental constructions with modest cohesion. The songwriting isn’t all proper via verse-chorus-verse, instead playing more to his emotions and allowing his vocals to become more of an instrumental force that synergizes with the sonic layers beneath to create fantastic work. I wasn’t the fondest of Friends That Break Your Heart, and maybe that’d change two years removed, but I am higher on Playing Robots Into Heaven. It’s cohesive with seamless transitional progressions between songs, subtle motifs in the production, and its use of vocals, yet it isn’t perfect. James Blake started something unique and great, but it manages to forget it as the album closes.

Infused with more of an introspective-club-like presence centered on sound, James Blake described Playing Robots Into Heaven as the arc of a rave or high, an “experience that includes a high and a comedown. ‘Asking to Break’ sets that up and then ‘Loading’ starts to bring you up into more of that place, [with] a little bit more euphoria.” These songs are more expressive to the body until they end on pop-like lows where the writing is emblematic, weaving the histrionics of nostalgia and club music to bring more drops in the production after a somber vocal performance. It’s this embodiment of the contrasting feelings we get within the moment; the music gets you hype, but when you sit back and listen outside the conceptual construct, the vocals have more depth. It’s a reason the genre-blending offers something potent to reflect on, like the clean transition from a Trance-Dance heavy production to this wicked Experimental Deep House beat that drives home the captivating thrill of the energy. That same feeling comes when you get whiffs of the Dancehall elements on “Big Hammer,” one of the definitive highlights off the album.

However, “He’s So Wonderful” is the one song where elements of the production don’t fully connect to give you something where it acquiesces. With the gospel notes, I feel it gets ahead of itself by trying hard to blend elements of it with glitch and experimental electronica without really adding much to the mold, especially with what comes before and after it. Like a middling stoppage gap, where, if we’re using the rave analogy, the re-up before the next drop comes, and you’re back on that floor for the next wave, but you don’t want this low-tempo pause. It becomes more glaring when you hear what comes before and after it, the enigmatic and fun “Big Hammer” and the Deep House dominant “Fall Back.” James Blake does well in constructing these unique sounds with his co-producers, especially with most of the songs in the first two-thirds, but his choices after “Night Sky” didn’t feel like they embodied what got set up as the concept. James Blake delivers more traditional vocal performance, which is okay but is a modest disappointment after it finishes. It doesn’t cut the narrative aspect behind the album. In a way, you want the lows to end in more of a fashion akin to what you heard before, like “Night Sky.”

The track I am talking about is “If You Can Hear Me,” before it closes with a beautiful instrumental track; the former is slightly more fundamental and ballad-esque, minimizing the output by “Fire the Editor,” which is more of a traditional, written composition while the production fills the air with club vibes. But even with these thoughts, you hear James Blake at his peak, back behind the boards with essence. Listening to the album is like getting lost in this haze where the highs are reflected around you in sound while the downward arc, as he puts it, is a little more mental, sort of killing that high, but that may just be me. It’s an intriguing pivot t as the songwriting is little more plaid and less ingrained within that atmosphere Blake created on the opening track “Asking to Break.” Though the beginning of the downward arc begins on a high with the twinkly, ambient pop-natured “Night Sky,” it doesn’t stay on the same wavelength. For me, when connected together, it became minimally askew, like as if what you heard with songs like “Tell Me” or “I Want To Know,” the latter of which is more akin to what I expect the album to end on.

James Blake produced much of his work on Playing Robots Into Heaven; however, the co-producers helped him round out the material, most of which are frequent collaborators like Dom Maker and KHUSHI. The former we saw co-produce “Lost Forever” on Utopia by Travis Scott. The latter was one of Blake’s producers for his last album, and though KHUSHI only co-produces one song, “I Want To Know,” the strength of his ambient techniques. Though KHUSHI only co-produces with Dom Maker and Rob McAndrews on it, there is something to their craft where synergy feels natural. So when it comes to the other co-producers, it’s Dom Maker, Rob McAndrews, and Jameela Jamil’s work is the strongest felt. These include “Loading,” “Tell Me,” “Big Hammer,” and “Fire the Editor.” Though the latter is one of the tracks where the construct didn’t work in tangent with the others, the production is light, beautifully emboldening the atmospheric textures that replicate that downward arc he wanted to express within the concept.

I enjoyed Playing Robots Into Heaven more than expected; it’s great. It is a notch above the last album, and much of it comes down to it’s concept, which is solid despite the ending. I love the vibe and what we got for most of the first two thirds, and I wholeheartedly recommend it. Hearing Blake behind the boards more is refreshing, and I will be bumping it frequently, even if I have to pretend I’m at the club in my room.