Jamie T: ‘The Theory Of Whatever’ Review
Jamie T, born Jamie Alexander Treays, has always been sort of a recluse. With long breaks in between records and a timid presence on social media, the English singer has succeeded at igniting curiosity among his followers—over the years, numerous fans created pages in search of news on the whereabouts of the singer, showing genuine concern. His remoteness has proved to be beneficial to his prolific career: fifteen years after the release of his debut album, the artist has now shared his fifth record, The Theory of Whatever, with a title that hints at a nonchalant aura of social discussion. Throughout the album, Trayes pokes fun at people who think he won’t come back, talks about his anxiety, and gets political.
Treays was only 21 when he released his debut album, Panic Prevention, fifteen years ago. At the time, he had already understood his artistry as escapism from his traumas: he grew up suffering from panic attacks, and when his mother gave him a series of relaxation CDs named ‘Panic Prevention,’ he got the inspiration to record his first album, borrowing samples and even the title from the material.
Fifteen years later, Treays continues to be candid about his personal life through his songwriting. The new album’s opening track, “90s Cars,” offers a glimpse into his ongoing struggles with anxiety (“thinking too much when I’m trying to get to sleep”). Though it might be the cause of the long pauses in his career and almost complete absence on social media, anxiety doesn’t deter his ability to get things off his chest through music rather than keeping them to himself.
While most of his peers have disappeared from the scene, Treays has found—maybe unintentionally—a way of communicating that has reached the new generation. True, raw lyrics and reclusiveness are the recipe for a different kind of success these days: one that lingers longer than expected, silently and discreetly. Take Frank Ocean’s longevity on the charts and the success of Sza’s debut album CTRL, which has supposedly made the label block her from releasing a sophomore project, for example. Ocean and Sza haven't released a new album in over five years, and the wait for their forever-forthcoming projects is perhaps what ignites their mythical popularity. But overseas, there seem to be more undisclosed elements to Jamie T’s long career. He isn’t the face of any fashion brand, nor is he showing up to award shows every other year, yet his new material is still strong enough to start conversations and draw thousands to his Glastonbury set. The connection felt by his loyal listeners might come from his ease at confessing that he, too, was once a young adult lost in his rage, as the lyrics to “British Hell” state (“that feeling of half-empty, I remember middle twenty, I was arrogant and uncouth, I know exactly who you are”).
Midway through the first half of the record, we are reminded that Treays is not in his twenties anymore but is still allowed to mess it up, and there’s a sense of relief once “Keying Lamborghinis” stops—the best thing about the song is the silence once it ends. But as the title of the record suggests, Treays does not care. He isn’t your typical indie idol from whom you should expect perfection, as declared in “St. George Wharf Tower” (“many have died trying to be the hero, You don't need a hero, In these modern climbs”). The political tone of “Sabre Tooth” reveals his need to speak up on social issues, though. In the song, he sings from the perspective of Syrian refugees about how they are scrutinized for seeking asylum in Europe.
With a lot to say, the singer claps back at people who mistake his quietness for failure on “Between the Rocks” (“and that's how I know I haven't changed, And that's how a couple thousand records, Can turn platinum in a couple days, 'Cause I'm still in that very moment, I'm just a thousand miles away”). He’s aware of his status as a symbol of charming loneliness, and he’s not willing to let anyone think that he’s done (“any time you see me be a has-been, I'm a has but”). The Theory of Whatever shows Jamie T at his bluntest, which might be a reflection of becoming mature enough not to care about negative critiques – or even positive ones, such as this one.
Rating: 7.2
Listen to The Theory of Whatever:
