Jamie T’s second album in two years is a punk, rap, pop and hardcore tour de force
Jamie T: Sheila
Thamesbeat troubador raises a toast to drinkers of London
Meanwhile, should you fear a load of songs about Henman losing the tennis and how the local football team buggered off to Milton Keynes, fear not: Jamie, like Skinner, Strummer and Doherty before him, treats all of London as his playground. On ‘Sheila’, T plays humble narrator to a sad cast of boozers and ne’er do wells, soaking their personal tragedies in alcohol – Jack, whose girl left him for another man, drowns his sorrows in cider; Georgina, fleeing from an abusive home life, declared dead by paramedics after a self-administered drug overdose; and most prominently the titular Sheila, who gets tanked up and shouts, to no-one in particular, across the Thames. Sad scenes, but borne up on a rattling hip-hop backbeat in T’s croaked, Joe Strummer-esque patois, such tales become strangely uplifting.
It’s the incidental details that make it, though: the bellowed “Loondooon!” that interrupts the chorus, the passages of poet John Betjeman’s The Cockney Amorist inscribed between the crunching beats. “The blue-blooded murder of the English tongue”, declares a plummy English voice. “Brap!”, exclaims Jamie. And the spirit of London town finds its newest mouthpiece.
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