I declare James Blake a young master of the stage, destined for
greatness and utterly impossible to pin down.
The dark,shimmering bass of the wilhelm scream guiding you
irresistibly in, like the pied piper of hamlin, if he did experimental
electronica.
The dark, fuzzy bass that lurks in shadows, then proceeding to wash
over you in one gargantuan somnambulent wave. That feeling of utter
calm.The starstruck, motionless, and silent Whelans audience has yet to see
his like or will likely see his like again for many a blue moon.
By Ian Fleming
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