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Jamie T review, The Theory of Whatever: The indie hermit is back with an evolution of his signature smut

Jamie T seems to be living in the past. It’s not as if the indie troubadour hasn’t released anything new since debuting in 2007 – he has, and much of it is just as brilliant as his first gig – but there’s a certain nostalgia to Jamie Treays’ music: a, which is characterized by cheap lager, sticky bar stools and drunken sing-alongs. Every few years, Treays returns and makes us feel young again.

The release of panic prevention was a cultural reset. The album introduced Jamie Treays, then 21, as a rowdy, taciturn chronicler of urban nightlife. A lot was thrown around with the “Urban Poet” label, which of course he hated. Except for his fourth album Carry on with the grudge, who defined a more traditional rock sound, have continued their albums in the same spirit as their debut, a wild journey through the turmoil of the metropolis. Or simply the wanderings of an inquisitive mind.

On first hearing The theory of whatever fits seamlessly into this work. Album opener ’90s cars’ is a set design – albeit a misleading one – that tears open the record like a chest, releasing booming guitar lines and Treays’ idiosyncratic vocals like a whiff of nostalgia. But the touch of lo-fi production is new. It’s doubled in The Old Style Raiders, a rousing new wave chugger – one of several tracks produced by Hugo White, formerly of The Maccabees.

“British Hell” samples Misfits’ 1981 track “London Dungeon,” whose chorus is sung here by ex-Gallows frontman Frank Carter. Traeys finds a natural home in his spluttering snare and goth-bait guitar, but ultimately lets the original horror-punk sound give way to his endearing, pub-ready style.

These songs tend to be softer than his most well-known material. But really, Treays was always unexpectedly great in softer moments. On “Talk Is Cheap,” he picks up an acoustic guitar for a slurred plea, asking an ex-lover to “pink his glasses” against the “dirty promises” of a Lotharios like him. His choruses remain anthemic but less pounding than those he wrote when he was 17. His vocals have a new weariness that ironically makes even his most memorable tracks feel fresh. The sudden key changes and syllable-filling performance of “Between The Rocks,” for example, are his credit panic prevention era without feeling regressive. Even the nasal howling of his youth has soured with age.

With his signature chuckle, he delivers a touch of social commentary. The guitar-led ballad ‘St George Wharf Tower’ refers to Vauxhall’s notoriously expensive apartment complex, a symbol of the city’s housing shortage: ‘Are you living in the clouds / Or on the A2305, it’s hard to say / But I hope you are now happy,” he riffs. Elsewhere, his humor is used to analyze long-distance romance in the love language of taxi rides: “Your rating is a confident four point five.” The album ends on a mischievous note: “50,000 Unmarked Bullets” imagines the romantic affairs of North Korean despot Kim Jong -U.N.

There’s still a loveable filth on the album that trickles across its 13 tracks like the cold sweat clinging to the walls of the dank clubs he sings about. in his heart The theory of whatever is an album by Jamie T; there are his usual characters, political barbs, and countless observations about London in all its gross glory. But that’s an evolution: new material that Treays could only write now is performed with the same old bravado we know and love.

https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/reviews/jamie-t-theory-of-whatever-b2128265.html Jamie T review, The Theory of Whatever: The indie hermit is back with an evolution of his signature smut

JOE HERNANDEZ

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