JAMES BLACKSHAW INTERVIEW

They say it's hard to interview or meet a hero, but this talk with James Blackshaw disproved that theory. I've got an MP3 of the conversation that I might edit and post up, but here's the potted/tortured journalese version.

He's in his late 20s. He lives in Hastings, but used to live over in Levenshulme. He plays the 12-string guitar and piano. These are facts, but it's not the facts that are the most interesting things about James Blackshaw.



Here's the heavy editorialising; The Glass Bead Game, his seventh, is the finest record of the year – possibly the decade. So pitch-perfect and nuanced are its compositions, it's made some of my friends purchase 12-string guitars to emulate Blackshaw's deathless sound. As a long-time owner of one, it's made this correspondent completely give up.

“Generally, I'm more attracted to instrumental music.” His albums to date have voices on them, but they don't sing words. They humanise the gnarled, knotted emotive qualities in Blackshaw's work, but they don't reveal themselves completely. “If you add words, then to some degree, you're going to dictate the mood of the music.”

Ambiguity is central to James Blackshaw, not naked truths. You own the meaning as you listen. Take the gut-wrenching 'Key' from Glass Bead...; yes, there's ecclesiastical music there. There's definitely something of the '60s avant-garde and the folk-prodigies Blackshaw adores such as John Fahey or Robbie Basho there too.



To nail Blackshaw down as the sum of his influences would be myopic; there's an emotive quality that here can't be bottled or sentimentalised or replicated for Joe Public. Sure, he's soundtracked a couple of FilmFour advertising spots, but it was as much a surprise to him. “My mum called me up and said she swore she heard my stuff on an advert.”

The reason you're likely not to have heard any of his music has little to do with its accessibility or melodic nature; indeed, plays in the Student Direct office have been met with unanimously positive murmurings. Blackshaw is signed to US indie Young God; whilst good for critical credentials, it does nothing to impact the UK marketplace. “I make money by touring and living cheaply.”

So has he ever considered going for financial gratification, pushing his music under the noses of The Man? No. “I pretty much find that whole industry totally abhorrent. Obviously, I don't think something like X Factor as anything to do with music at all, nor any of the awards like NME or Mercury. It's all about the industry.”

Not that he's worried about his own long-term future. “There'll always be people who love music enough to put it out there without worrying about a profit. The internet is also amazing. We can barely comprehend life without it now, too.” Does he not worry that some people develop a sense of entitlement about music if they continually have access to music – more specifically, his music – for nothing?

“No, I think it's pretty low down on the list of things to get pissed off about. Of course it could be taking money away from an artist who needs the money to either make another record, or pay rent – or even eat – but I think in the long-term people will come to understand these issues better.” See: brilliant and trusting.



That week, some friends & yr corresp. decide to make the daunting journey over Snake Pass to get to Sheffield to see him play in a small vegan cafe. Much as his records, it's a tour de force of understated brilliance. In an October air icy with the oncoming winter, his circular melodies warm the hardest of hearts. Every note floats upward into the rafters and hangs tantalisingly, melancholy and reflective, not a single one wasted.

“I'm blocking November and December off to work on the new album.” There's a long, detail-heavy conversation, in which he documents what this might entail; playing electric 12-string for the first time. The sort of massed open-tuned guitar treatments made famous by Rhys Chatham and Glen Branca. Possibly even vocals, which he's worried about. He should trust himself. He's one of the finest musicians around and he doesn't seem to know it.