Blake Lee is a name you probably don’t recognise. However, if you’ve seen Lana Del Rey live you might recognise him, as Lee is Del Rey’s guitarist and her musical director. He’s one of the reasons why her live shows are as good as they are. But this isn’t about Del Rey. It’s about Blake Lee, as he’s released his glorious debut album ‘No Sound in Space’ on KMRU’s OFNOT label.
When I first heard about this album I thought “Oh, here we go. Another collection of earnest singer-songwriter ballads awaits me”. Imagine my surprise when I pressed play and heard synths, woozy guitar, I think that’s a guitar, with percussive clicks and no love-lorn lyrics. After listening to opening song ‘Amour’ I pressed play again, to ensure I imagined it up. I hadn’t. ‘In a Cloud’ is full of luscious synths. Under this are two, maybe three, simple layered guitars. Each are a few notes each but create a filigree web of tender music. There are pangs of melancholy throughout, but they’re never a true downer. It’s like remembering someone, or something lost but smiling at the happy memories.
The album was first recorded at the tail end of COVID and over two years Lee continued to create, edit and tinker with his creations. This might be why the album is tinged with sadness yet peppered with hope. ‘Moving Air’ feels incredibly hopeful with its translucent guitars and synths. The album features two collaborates with KMRU. While Lee and KMRU’s music isn’t identical their styles meld effortlessly and it’s hard to pick out either musician.
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‘Miura’ opens with swells of serene feedback and muffled melodies. Through this, keyboards and guitars try and cut their way out, but the fug is too dense. At first, we only get scratchy motifs. Around the halfway mark the cloud’s part and things become clear. The next few minutes are some of the finest on the album. As the mist swirls and tries to engulf us the new motifs become more pronounced. Tinkling and creaking sounds appear, and disappear, before ‘Miura’ fades out. It’s impossible to know what Lee is and what is KMRU, but we have vague ideas. One thing that is on display is how well they work together. Hopefully, this yield a joint album one day.
The highlight of the album is the final three songs. ‘Pan AM’, ‘I Can Feel It’, and ‘EXP’. While they don’t seem to contain a joined narrative there some threads join them together. ‘Pan AM’ starts claustrophobic. Disjointed vocal field recordings are underpinned by woozy guitar. Very My Bloody Valentine inspired, but instead of building to an explosion of sound, it stays understated. ‘I Can Feel It’ kicks off with neon synths. A third of the way through bass starts to make an subtle appearance. Around the halfway mark there is a Vangelis-esque synth motif, giving the song a cinematic vibe. ‘EXP’ is the crown jewel on the album. From the opening moments you know it will get LOUD. It gradually builds into a squall of white noise, reminiscent of My Bloody Valentine. In scope, scale, and decibels. It’s hard to work out what is being played, or what is even going on, but it sounds amazing! The outro just quivers in its noise and confusion.
As the album is mostly devoid of lyrics and words, apart from a couple of field recordings, we only have the song’s titles, and the music, as clues as to what is going on. Movement feels like a keen theme. ‘In a Cloud’ and ‘Moving Air’ reminds me of the feeling of waking up on an aeroplane and for a brief moment not knowing where I am. ‘Waiting’ and ‘Pan Am’ feel like being in a queue for a plane, train, or coach. ‘EXP’ is that sound of aeroplane engines firing up or turning off. The title could be a reference to the first Alien film’s tagline “In space no one can hear you scream”, as the album is claustrophobic and menacing in places, but it’s also strangely tender and playful. Such is Blake Lee’s deft touch.
‘No Sound in Space’ is an exquisite album. It floats effortlessly between ambient, electronic, shoegaze, film score, and avant-garde genres. Instead of getting bogged down in ‘big ideas’, Lee keeps things breezy by never forgetting that melody is king. Yes, there are moments, especially near the end that sound like a the end of the world, but even they are melodic. What makes ‘No Sound in Space’ a delight is that for all the swaths of dystopia, you can hear the hope. Throughout Blake is having a blast. He’s loving making his guitar sound like a synth. Loving collaborating with KMRU and releasing his inner Mica Levi. This is an album that demands to be played again and again. With each new listen you hear something new. While there is no sound in space, thankfully there is plenty of killer ones on this magnificent debut album.
9/10
Words: Nick Roseblade
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