試練の時――ありのままに、そして諦めずに立ち向かう音
James Blake returns to something quieter, and somehow more direct
ラフィ・マーサー
There’s a moment, early on in Trying Times, where the music doesn’t arrive so much as it appears.
Not built. Not introduced. Just there.
A voice, close enough to feel like it’s been waiting for you. A piano line that doesn’t resolve as much as it hovers. And underneath it all, that familiar James Blake tension — the push between control and collapse, precision and vulnerability.
But something is different this time.
Not radically. Not in a way that announces itself. But if you’ve been listening to James Blake for long enough, you feel it almost immediately.
He’s not hiding anymore.
That’s the simplest way to put it.
Because for years, Blake’s music has lived in the spaces between things — between genres, between emotional states, between clarity and distortion. His voice often treated as texture as much as message, his production folding in on itself, asking the listener to lean closer, to work a little harder.
But Trying Times doesn’t ask in the same way.
It offers.
There’s an openness here. A kind of care that feels deliberate. As if the music has been stripped back not to reveal complexity, but to reveal intent.
And that’s where the album finds its weight.
The obviousness of it.
Not obvious in the sense of simple or predictable. But obvious in the sense of honest. Direct. Unhidden.
The piano plays like it has nothing to prove.
The vocals sit forward, not buried.
The spaces between sounds feel considered, but not overworked.
It’s a subtle shift, but an important one.
Because what Blake seems to understand here is that intimacy doesn’t come from obscurity.
It comes from clarity.
You can hear it in the way tracks unfold — slowly, but without hesitation. There’s less of that fractured, deconstructed rhythm he’s known for, and more of a steady, almost human pacing. The kind that feels like breathing rather than programming.
And in that, something else emerges.
Care.
Not sentimentality. Not softness for the sake of it. But a genuine sense that these songs are being held, not just made.
That matters.
Because in a world where so much music is designed for speed — for skipping, for scrolling, for background — Trying Times does the opposite.
It stays.
It asks you to stay with it.
Not through complexity, but through presence.
There are moments where the production still bends — where synths drift just slightly out of reach, where the low end carries that familiar Blake weight. But they don’t dominate. They support.
The centre of this record is the voice.
And more importantly, the feeling behind it.
There’s a kind of emotional maturity here that doesn’t need to dramatise itself. No sudden peaks, no forced crescendos. Just a consistent, quiet unfolding.
And that’s where the album becomes something more than just another release.
It becomes a companion.
The kind of record that doesn’t demand a moment, but fits into one. Late evenings. Headphones. A room that’s not quite silent, but close enough.
It’s not trying to overwhelm you.
It’s trying to meet you.
And maybe that’s why it works.
Because in stripping things back — in allowing the music to be more obvious, more direct, more caring — Blake hasn’t lost depth.
He’s made it easier to reach.
Which, in its own way, is a risk.
There’s nowhere to hide in clarity.
But Trying Times doesn’t need to hide.
It knows exactly what it is.
And more importantly, it knows how it wants to be heard.
Slowly. Fully. Without distraction.
The kind of listening that feels almost unfamiliar now.
But once you settle into it, you remember.
This is what music can do.
Not impress.
Not perform.
But hold you, just long enough to feel something shift.
And in times like these — that’s more than enough.
よくある質問
What defines Trying Times as a James Blake album?
It retains his signature minimalism and emotional depth, but shifts toward clarity and openness, allowing the listener in more easily than before.
Is this album more accessible than his earlier work?
Yes — it feels more direct and less abstract, making it easier to connect with while still maintaining his distinctive sound.
What stands out most in the production?
The restraint. Everything feels intentional, with space used as a core element rather than an absence.
ラフィ・マーサーは、音楽が重要な役割を果たす場所について執筆しています。
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