Waterfall In Slow Motion

James Blake takes a moment, holds it still,  then lets it drop into  nothing, a silence.
Brave from an artist whose medium is sound. He creates space within the song by delaying the next chord, just enough for it to add almost intolerable tension, then releases it with the light touch of  a piano. He then  shifts gears to a throbbing bass before twisting it round again via echos and static through which, I swear,  you can hear a distant rumbling of a  street  (time code 2.35).  Blake’s austere production makes Feist’s original version seem like a soundtrack to a carnival ride. His fragile vocals keep me mesmerised, transfixed and almost too afraid to breathe. I don’t want to break this spell.


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