It’s beautifully discreet, formed with an elegance that pushes it to the point of invisibility — blissful for some, but perhaps too despondent for others.
For an album that clocks in well over the hour mark, it’s regrettably unambitious and even a little safe. This is effectively James Blake on autopilot.
The album boasts a lush, colourful sound, drawing from elements of funk and soul to create an impressively modern vibe. It's just a shame it's so cartoonish.
For every moment of serenity there's a feeling of incompleteness, and the result is an album that's sadly unmemorable.
Tyler plays against his strengths and manages to push himself to make a good non-rap album. That in itself is pretty fucking fascinating.
Throughout much of its run-time, There is No Year seems content revelling in its own (admittedly awe-inspiring) ambience.