Jamie T’s second album in two years is a punk, rap, pop and hardcore tour de force
London W1 '108' Club
Last summer, he rode a white horse onstage at a show in Barcelona. You suspect he'd have done the same tonight if there'd been room...
Last summer, he rode a white horse onstage at a show in Barcelona. You suspect he'd have done the same tonight if there'd been room. Instead, he enters sporting a red headdress and a long blue velvet cape. It's a good start and it neatly encapsulates the New Jimi.
Before, we knew him as the comically sleazy artiste prone to bouts of jazz-soaked disco. That Jimi's still here. Right now, the Jimi we always feared he'd become is in the house. The Mokt-sipping, linen-suited European playboy. The ladies' man par excellence. The showman who encourages his band to wallow in the kind of brass-bathed deluxe gloss last heard masking a vigorously romantic scene in Miami Vice during 'Xinetope Heat' and - uh, just there, baby - 'Serious Love'.
Of course, it's all done with Disney-approved decency because ultimately Jimi's fetish is strictly voyeurism. He doesn't actually want to do it, you see, he just wants to watch and fantasise. "I wanna be the taxi driver who takes you home tonight, baby", he croons, squirming behind his keyboard.
And really, who's to deny him these simple pleasures? But it's when the DJ scratches into the frisky groove of 'Take Me Baby' and transforms 'Sugar Daddy' into a soul stomp, that the Jimi we know and love returns.
"My synthesizer is tired from all the abuse," he teases, sweating, his headdress still intact. He does S&M too? We await the X-rated Jimi Tenor with masterful self-discipline.
Character studies and ready melodies abound in the latest record by the Oxford quartet
A battle-like record where fear and dread rule
Another gripping Pedro Almodóvar mystery, full of vibrant visuals and emotional revelations
The Californian succeeds, once again, in exposing the ugliness of mankind. It’ll get under your skin