When we think of solo piano music, even in the more commercial world, we generally think of the high-concept and artistic direction of Kate Bush or Tori Amos or the high volume commerciality of kitsch dinosaurs such as Elton John or Billy Joel (though The Stranger is an album that should be studied in music colleges the length and breadth of the country.)
What Baylock brings to the table is a certain street edge to the way of doing such things. He’s young, wears a hoody, has a grainy black and white video and delivers emotive lyrics with a Mancunian twang. I can hear the noise from here as various notable London conservatoires start erecting barricades across their lawns to keep out the barbarians at the gates.
But that is their loss because despite, or possibly even because of, such urban credentials, Blaylock makes short work of blending Damien Rice minimalism with just the right amount of commercial melodicism. Heartstrings will be tugged, emotions unleashed, young women will swoon and the world will feel just that little bit more poetic. And when did the world ever not benefit from such happenings?