This article was first published on CLUAS in April 2006
French Letter: Perry Blake
Blake's Heaven in France? Aidan on the French success of Irishman Perry Blake...
I
braved the paddywagons around the Sorbonne last week to head to my favourite
Parisian book- and record-store, Gibert Joseph halfway up the boulevard Saint
Michel. There, I found a display for the new release by an Irish singer
described on his album's promo sticker as 'le dernier dandy romantique'
('the last romantic dandy'). This wasn't the
new Van Morrison record,
then.
"The
Crying Room" is the sixth studio album by Perry Blake, a Sligo-born singer who
has built a solid following around Europe from his base here in France. Before
you start racking your brains as to whether he's one of the Tubbercurry Blakes
or maybe something to Mossie and Noreen Blake out the Ballyshannon road, his
real name is Kieran Gorman. The future P. Blake Esq. spent part of his formative
years in London before releasing his eponymous debut album in 1998. Though
concentrating on the continental market, he returns to Ireland regularly for
recording and shows.
Anecdotal evidence has it that Blake is more famous in France than in Ireland. I
recall a Sunday Times interview in 2004 where he told how he was unable to walk
down the street in France without being stopped by fans. Now, my French friends
in Dublin hadn't heard of him, nor have my friends here in Paris. Perhaps I
haven't been hanging around the right boulevards. Nonetheless, the French music
press are generally enthusiastic about Blake; "The Crying Room" has received
excellent reviews in widely-read magazines like Les Inrockuptibles, Téléama and
the French edition of Rolling Stone.
Far from the Jack L/Neil
Hannon 'romantic dandy' suggested by his album's blurb, Blake cuts a serious
figure. His music calls for descriptions like melancholic', 'ethereal' and
'atmospheric' - all immaculately-crafted synth soundscapes and breathy vocals
similar to David Sylvian's solo records. Lyrically he tends towards the Met
Eireann school of writing about stars and skies and days and nights, a bit like
the TV3 weather forecast presented by Keats and Shelley. In general, think of
Damien Rice crossed with
Tindersticks (the latter's Dickon
Hinchcliffe is a regular Blake collaborator), with the emphasis on the former's
artistic pretensions.
Blake's hand-to-the-brow sensibility is mother's milk to a certain constituency
of thirtysomething French music fans who gush about 'serious artists' and sniff
at commercial 'pop'. The 'Téléama' review was particularly flowery, gently
chiding Blake for his previous 'prétensions radiophonique'
('radio-friendly efforts') before lauding his new record as 'une ode à l'espace nu, au temps suspendu, aux ciels de
traînée ('an ode to unadorned
space, to suspended time, to skies of vapour trails') - a fellow
weather-forecaster, by the looks of it.
In this, of course, there are plenty of fellow travellers in Ireland. So how
come Blake remains low-profile in the Shangri-la of serious singer-songers?
Well, as Blake told the American webzine 'Chaos Control' in 2003: "Most Irish
bands/songwriters seem to treat me as some kind of outsider who doesn't play by
their rather insular rules. To be popular in Ireland first is usually a sign
that one is doing something wrong. There are exceptions, of course, Damien Rice
being one [...] I think generally the French like more melancholic music [...]
but mainland Europe has always been quick to champion less mainstream artforms
than, perhaps, the UK."
There you are - if you're Irish, put down that Perry Blake record and just back
away from the counter!
