This article originally appeared in Hypebeast Magazine #36: The Platinum Issue

Tucked away in the basement of a studio in Central London’s Soho neighborhood is a 10 by 20 room where big ideas escape its small confines. Wires snake across the floor. Synths and keyboards are stacked one on top of another like books in a messy study. At the center of it all is dubstep innovator turned Grammy-winning producer and vocalist James Blake: tall, thoughtful, and quietly in command. Four keyboards surround him in a semicircle, with two more resting nearby. At first glance, it’s hard not to think, does he really need that much gear? But once he starts summoning his signature, rich Blakesian melodies, the answer becomes crystal clear.

A cluttered workspace can be the mark of a cluttered mind. But the opposite is also often true. There’s comfort in the chaos: a junkyard cacophony of floating notes, references, and half-finished thoughts from which new ideas emerge. This tiny, cluttered room is not the room of someone unsure about their craft. This is the space of an artist who, at this point in his career, is confident, clearheaded, and settled in his practice.

Blake’s genre-blurring sound and ethereal production style have made him both a critically acclaimed solo artist and a sought-after collaborator. Over the past decade-plus, he’s worked with the likes of Beyoncé, Frank Ocean, and Kendrick Lamar to name a few, crafting soulful beats and textures that are unmistakably his. He’s released hits, won awards, and played massive festivals. But at this moment, sitting in his intimate basement studio with engineer Bob Mackenzie, he seems focused on something else, something closer to home.

“I think I’m just more aware now,” he says, looking up from his synth-flanked perch, his voice low and even. “Earlier on, I was chasing things. Now, I feel like I’m circling back to what I really care about.”

Blake isn’t just talking about music, either. Our conversation naturally drifts to streaming culture and the music industry, prompting his gentle demeanor to sharpen. Without raising his voice, he simply says, “There are a lot of systems that don’t value artists.” His decided tone tells me he speaks from experience. “You can make something that moves people, that takes years to find the right shape, and still feel invisible in the economy of it all.”

Blake has been inside the music machine long enough to know how it feels to move from one end of the spectrum to the other. Through it all, he’s one of the rare people who managed to remain honest, both in his emotion-driven music and how he navigates the industry.

With a new album on the horizon called Trying Times, out this March, there’s a palpable sense that Blake, now 36, is dead set on doing things his way. He’s going through a reset. He’s reconnecting with his music — no outside voices, no industry flak. The title track does just that: “There’s a very personal delivery, almost felt like it fell out the sky. It happened in 20 minutes. I just love singing it, and I want to sing it.”

“Trying Times,” like much of the music being shaped in this room, feels intimate and thoughtful — a stark contrast to today’s pop landscape, littered with soulless tracks tailored for algorithmic success. Blake’s quietude is evidence of his newly wrought freedom, too. He recently decided to go independent, and even delayed the upcoming record’s release in order to put more thought into how to approach its rollout.

“I feel like this new music deserves a chance to see what would happen if I gave it my all,” he explains.

Untethered by the need to constantly evolve for the public, he’s found room instead to reflect: to consider not just what he makes, but why he makes it. His music has a deliberateness that is more focused than ever before. It’s still very much James Blake, but it arrives with a conviction that suggests he knows exactly where he stands.

The industry may be a mess and streaming numbers may continue to plague musicians. But here, in this warm basement cocoon crammed with synths, keyboards, and two overgrown men, we’re seeing one of the most distinct musical minds of the past fifteen years take his time. He’s choosing his own voice and his own notes, saying something with lasting power that will remain long after the numbers fade.

Maybe six keyboards isn’t too many after all.

KEVIN E. WONG: I SAW YOU SWITCH OUT A COUPLE WATCHES DURING THE PHOTOSHOOT. ARE YOU A BIG WATCH GUY?

James Blake: I think they’re fascinating, like the intersection of all different types of design that I like. I appreciate watches. I’m very granular when it comes to craft, so it makes sense that I’d be drawn to another type of granular craft.

The one I’m wearing at the moment is a Vacheron Constantin 1921. It’s one of my favorites just because it was given to me by [rapper] Dave. During the pandemic, I got stuck in the studio for months while working on his album We’re All Alone in This Together. It’s a record I really, really love. When it was finished, he turned up at my door and had this box with him — a gift.

At some point during the recording sessions, I’d said to him, “That is one of my favorite watches.” And he just logged that. So now anytime I see somebody with a really nice watch, I’ll say, “Oh, that’s actually one of my favorites.” [laughs] But really, this one means a lot to me. There are some watches you’d never sell. This is one I could never part ways with.

WHAT ABOUT FASHION? ANY BRANDS THAT YOU’RE SUPER INTO RIGHT NOW?

I’d say Martine Rose is probably one of my favorites. Studio Nicholson is the one that I wear the most. It depends what I’m doing, but for everyday wear I’m into Casey Casey. For events, I like Prada. It’s split between what I will get sent and what I go out and buy myself. What I go out and buy myself is often on the more eclectic end of things.

I SAW YOU DID SOMETHING WITH ZEGNA. YOU WERE THE MUSICAL ADVISOR FOR THEIR SUMMER 2026 FASHION SHOW. WHAT DOES THAT ENTAIL?

It’s a made-up term. It’s a made-up job. In the past, I’ve provided them with music in advance. But for this one, I was actually performing and improvising during the presentation, which was cool. It really brings you into the moment, playing piano and singing. That’s the liminal space where I find the most exciting moments happen. As a performer who’s been doing this a while, you have to make it fun for yourself. The idea of improvising in that setting is kind of scary, but it’s also very in-the-moment. Alessandro [Sartori] is respectful of artists, so he was the right person to do something like that with.

WHAT DO YOU THINK IT IS ABOUT YOUR MUSIC THAT LENDS ITSELF WELL TO FASHION?

It’s almost like seeing your music live another life, right? Because you’re creating sonic space alongside this experiential space they’re creating. The last time I was at a show and they were playing my music, it was Bottega Veneta Spring/Summer 2025 in Milan. It was a Matthieu Blazy show. They used “When We’re Older.” I remember being very moved by watching these amazing silhouettes and seeing these beautiful people come across the runway while it played.

“GODSPEED,” OFF OF 2020’S COVERS, IS ONE OF MY ALL-TIME FAVORITES. IT WAS EVEN MY WEDDING SONG. YOU WORKED ON FRANK OCEAN’S ORIGINAL AND THEN MADE YOUR OWN VERSION. HOW DID YOU APPROACH THE COVER?

Well, first off, it’s sweet that you went down the aisle to a breakup song. I commend your bravery [laughs]. Secondly, I love that song too. That’s why I covered it. I always had a version in my head that sounded the way I did my cover, and I wanted to put that out there. When you’re working on music that’s not your own music, there’s always the “what if” of the alternate version. Rather than disrespect the original by creating another version in a similar vein, I thought I’d sing it on piano and do it my way. It ended up taking on its own life.

YOUR MUSIC OFTEN GETS DESCRIBED AS POETIC, EXPRESSIVE, AND INTRICATE. DO YOU SEE YOURSELF MORE AS A POET, A TECHNICIAN, OR A DESIGNER?

We’re all a unique DNA imprint. Starting from there gives us the freedom to be any of those things — whatever we’re interested in. I was always interested in writing poetry, but I wasn’t particularly a poetry reader. In the context of songwriting, poetry felt like something I would do more for emotional release. But it ended up being fertile ground for crafting songs.

On the technical front, I think it’s all a necessity. “I want to make that sound — how do I do it?” It’s the same in business — you see a problem occurring and you solve it. It’s either a texture I don’t know how to make, or I’m looking for a phrase, or I’m looking for a way to kind of emotionally relate one thing to something else. I have to figure out how I’m going to do it. I’m a problem solver by trade. As a producer, as a writer, as a mentor to other artists, you’re essentially finding ways to help someone express themselves the best way they can. It often involves emotional problem solving. Sometimes you have to therapize yourself first and make sure you’re in a coherent place, in a place of equilibrium.

IT’S BEEN 14 YEARS SINCE YOUR FIRST ALBUM. DO YOU HAVE A DIFFERENT FEELING TOWARDS RELEASING MUSIC OR EVEN HOW YOU ANTICIPATE THE AUDIENCE’S RECEPTION COMPARED TO EARLIER IN YOUR CAREER?

I don’t feel the same pressure these days. With my current body of work, I think I could safely walk away right now and say, “OK, I added enough noise to the world.” But with my next record, there’s a clarity that will hopefully be refreshing to people. I’ve already pushed it back nine months, and I’m happy to push it back however many more months it needs.

This is a record that I would like to put more effort into actually promoting. I’ve released things in the past and then just posted about it a few times before walking away and letting it do its thing. That’s fine, but I don’t think that’s going to cut it for this album. I feel like this new music deserves a chance to see what would happen if I gave it my all.

MY WIFE IS A MURALIST AND WHEN SHE’S ABOUT TO FINISH A PIECE, SHE BASICALLY CHECKS OUT AND LOSES INTEREST — SHE’S READY TO MOVE ON. I ASSUME THAT’S A SIMILAR FEELING FOR YOU WHEN FINISHING AN ALBUM.

I heavily relate to the way your wife does that. I think by the time an artist is finished with the thing they’re making, it almost feels painful to disconnect from it, give it to everyone else, and then do lots of very unmusical things to promote it. The promo cycle of a record involves so many things that have nothing to do with your music or art.

On previous records, I could see that as a producer and as an artist, I’m almost emotionally impressionistic — even through my falsetto and the kind of way that I’m slightly disembodied across certain things. The overall impression is almost like I’m in the background of my own painting.

I think something that’s different about this new record is that there’s a decision to connect with the voice at the center of it. And a goal to connect with the people in the crowd and to connect directly. I’m not making myself a texture in the overall composition, but rather making myself the messenger. That makes me excited. Otherwise, it’s like why would I put so much effort into showing people a painting that I’m the background of?

CAN YOU GIVE AN EXAMPLE OF WHERE THIS TYPE OF VOCAL STYLE COMES INTO PLAY?

The song “Trying Times” has a very personal delivery. While making it, it almost felt like it fell out of the sky. I just love singing it, and I want to sing it. To be honest, there’s only a few songs I feel that way about.

I felt this way about “Retrograde.” I couldn’t get enough of playing it. I wanted to play every night. I still want to play it every night. I don’t know if it’s how I wrote it or how personal it is, but I will never get sick of playing it.

I feel the same way about “Trying Times.” For some reason, I just get flooded with endorphins every time I play it.

WHY DID YOU DECIDE TO GO INDEPENDENT?

In the past, I’ve really believed in things but been discouraged from pursuing them because I was convinced by other people that there were better options. Then I didn’t put effort into the other option and couldn’t summon the passion, so we’d run them into the ground.

When I look back at certain songs, I think, “Rather than giving 25% energy to this commercial-sounding one, I could have given 100% energy to this one that wasn’t as commercial, but was just a better song.”

The idea of independence isn’t just a buzzword for 2025. It’s an entire mentality that I wish I’d had more of over the years. While I had creative control, there was a spirit of independence missing from my execution that I now regret.

When I embraced the 100% mentality, I started having more creative fun and suddenly felt ownership over the things I make in a way I never did before. That inspired this new lease on life — I really want to get behind this stuff. I’m not just delivering it and walking away. That doesn’t do the music or the audience justice.

IT’S HYPEBEAST’S 20TH ANNIVERSARY. IF YOU COULD DESCRIBE EACH OF YOUR ALBUMS WITH JUST ONE WORD, WHAT WOULD THEY BE?

Self-Titled is fractured.

Overgrown is imperfect.

The Colour in Anything is maze or maze-like.

Assume Form is open.

Friends That Break Your Heart is colorful.

Playing Robots in Heaven is reckless.

And this new one, Trying Times, is symmetrical.

It’s interesting hearing them all lined up like that — those words reflect quite well how I feel. There’s also the journey of really finding cohesion and symmetry of body and mind, and seeing it reflected in the art.

When you take a single musician as a case study, it becomes much more obvious. We accept that a musician’s emotional state is tied to how their album sounds, but we often don’t look at the whole catalog and ask, “What are they actually going through in that moment?”

HOW MUCH DO YOU LOOK AT WHAT’S GOING ON IN THE WORLD AND INCORPORATE THAT INTO NEW MUSIC?

All the time. I don’t use the internet very much — I have blockers on my phone so I don’t get lost in ADHD spirals. I think I’m too sensitive to read everything, too sensitive to field everything.

It’s the classic conundrum: Do I see everything and be current, while also destroying my mental peace? Or do I stay out of everything and maintain. Like Kendrick’s lyric, “protecting my soul in the valley of silence.” That’s a high-level goal.

The way I move tends to be in the background of things. Anything I want to remedy or help, I do it away from social media. Unless I’m burning bridges in the music industry, in which case I do it as loudly as possible [laughs].

SPEAKING OF THE MUSIC INDUSTRY, YOU’VE SPOKEN ABOUT A DEVALUING AND DISCONNECT TO MUSIC WITH THE ADVENT OF STREAMING. HOW DO YOU THINK THIS AFFECTS THE WAY LISTENERS PERSONALLY OR EMOTIONALLY CONNECT TO THE MUSIC ITSELF?

I’ve been reductive in the past to just focus on what musicians are paid by streaming. The more holistic view is that tech has actually weakened the musical listening experience. It’s reduced the experience to a solo engagement.

It’s like video game consoles — it used to be about playing together on the couch, now everything’s DRM-protected and you have your own console in your own house with a headset. And that creates more isolation.

It feels like the ceremony of actually putting music out is gone. Compared to the age of vinyl record shops and in-store experiences that actually involve meeting people, streaming feels like the most boring version of releasing music that has happened in history.

AI IN MUSIC IS SOMETHING YOU HAVE EXPLORED. DO YOU SEE IT MORE AS A TOOL OR AS A THREAT? OR SOMETHING ELSE ENTIRELY?

I think it’s all of those. A modular synth can be set up as a generative thing spitting out music I didn’t write, even if I’m a curator of what comes out. Generative music has existed for decades.

On the flip side, it’s possible to replace musicians with AI-generated content. That’s where I draw the line creatively. Models can be trained on music we’ve made, spit out combinations of that, and we’re never paid.

AI was supposed to save us time, and it just seems to be creating more hysteria, less time, more panic, more hours at the computer worrying about it.

IF YOU WEREN’T WHERE YOU WERE NOW WITH MUSIC, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU WOULD BE DOING?

When Peter Crouch was asked what he would be if he wasn’t a football player, he said, “a virgin.” [laughs] I think if I wasn’t doing this, I could see myself being a watchmaker. It feels pretty akin to what I do, and it’s something I could easily find myself becoming quite obsessed with.

WHAT STILL DRIVES YOU TO CREATE?

There’s that Norm MacDonald quote: “It is when the dice are in the air, and as long as they are there, time stops. As long as the red dice are in the air, the gambler has hope. And hope is a wonderful thing to be addicted to.”

That’s kind of how it feels for me with music. It’s this throwing of the dice, this moment of what might happen. This is especially true when collaborating. That feeling of what might happen is a version of group manifestation. I don’t think that will ever not be exciting to me.