Dean: John Blek’s aching folk music is comfortingly familiar

The singer-songwriter never goes out of vogue, and certainly not in this country. A rich tradition of folk and balladry has carried into a contemporary penchant for rustic, open-hearted acoustic finger-pickers. The biggest selling album in Ireland of all time? It’s almost certainly not one you’re thinking of. The answer, if you can believe it, is Englishman David Gray’s 1998 LP White Ladder, an album that at the time codified the public’s idea of the (white male) singer-songwriter, both here and in the UK.

So, here comes John Blek. Or, to be more accurate, once more he returns, as his recent album The Midnight Ache is, by my count, the twelfth full-length Blek has released as either a solo artist or as the leader of John Blek & The Rats. Longevity has not made him a household name, like, say, Damien Dempsey; none of his records have had the ubiquitous presence of Damien Rice’s insanely popular 2002 album O. 

Blek actually seems to operate as a studio professional supporting other artists as much as a front-and-centre star. His website doubles as a shop window for the studio Bigger River Recordings Co. in Cork, which is available to book right now, should you require any of its audio services. In fact, it was working in this role that inspired the recording of The Midnight Ache.

“This album took me by surprise,” Blek has said. “I was slowly writing and using the songs to try to get to know the new studio space. Sonically feeling my way around and seeing what I could achieve when all of a sudden I realised I was looking at a new record.”

Blek boldly calls himself an “Irish troubadour in the truest sense of the word”, a self-image that manifests as tuneful, tea-cosy tunes steeped in melancholy. There’s always a danger that this stuff can fall into coffee-house cosiness – that is, background music too mild and undefined to leave much of an impression. The skit “Indistinct Chatter” even seems to play on that expectation by recreating the sound of hustle and bustle of a public place, a café perhaps, as an unnoticed Blek softly caresses his guitar. Yet I’ve found myself drawn to The Midnight Ache during the recent rainy days. The gentle percussion of his lovely ode to Americana music “Mr. Misery” could even get lost in the sounds of raindrops hitting your window.

After the short intro “I’ve Been”, which sets the scene by replicating the feeling of an old transistor radio in the corner of a log cabin, The Midnight Ache gets going with the comparatively lush “Better”, a dedication to self-improvement for the benefit of a loved one. Over a light bassline, drums and lilting strings, Blek sings in a sleepy, smoky voice – a classic folk tone that’s a nice vehicle for the gentle touch of the record.

The positivity of “Better” is something of a misdirection. For the most part, The Midnight Ache is not a happy suite. “Still I ache for you,” Blek sings on “Black & Blue”, summarising the sadness and self-doubt that hangs over the album.

World-weary, sad-man folk risks can often come across as trite, but Blek’s songwriting has many interesting twists and turns. “Before You” finds the artist reflecting on a life that was “a burning ruin” before meeting a person who had a transformative effect on him. Not entirely free of his demons – or “the bodies beneath the boards” – the song hints at dependency as much as friendship or romance.

Focusing on timeless themes and emotions, there’s no attempt to engage with the modern world, which can sometimes veer into over-familiarity. “Mr. Misery” features imagery of dreams, bar fights, and greenery that can feel a little off-the-shelf. And being consistently nice on the ear can sometimes lead to a feeling of inertia. The repetitive melody of “With You”, which finds Blek with his hand on the shoulder of someone trying to numb the pain in a hotel bar, is a slight sag in proceedings.

For the most part, though, the sense of familiarity conjured by Blek is a soothing experience. It’s easy to imagine American filmmakers picking up the phone to try to secure the rights to some of this music for their low-budget twee dramedies. And for anyone drawn to the timeless fundamentals of men plucking acoustic guitars, there’s every chance that The Midnight Ache will find the pocket.

John Blek is due to perform live at Whelan’s on 13 February.