A dashing gent, with shiny shoulder-length hair and an apparently endless stash of those dark felt hats Johnny Depp used to sport in his feckless youth, James Bay’s rise to the cusp of stardom is no surprise. He’s a dapper dresser and the owner of a bona fide movie star pout – that he’s a decent singer comes almost as a bonus. Still, his ascent hasn’t been entirely smooth – just a few days after winning the prestigious Brits Critics Choice Award for best newcomer, the 24-year-old is smarting over the focus, in some of his media coverage, on his alleged good looks. Why, he groans, can’t it be about the music?

“I don’t read any of that stuff, “ he shrugs, in a tone of voice that suggest he has, in fact, read all of ‘that stuff’. “What people say doesn’t concern me. It’s great that we’re talking – you’re interested in the music. The rest [i.e. natter about his appearance] isn’t of any relevance. I’ve a lot to get on with, make sure my stuff is good. I don’t want to be distracted.”
Bay came to the attention of Irish audiences in October when he gallantly deputised for Hozier after the Wicklow troubadour was struck down with illness touring America. Unable to perform in Atlanta and Dallas, Hozier was happy for his support artist to step up to the plate. Bay, for his part, was shocked anyone would wish to stick around as it became known Hozier was indisposed.
“He’d been at it for a year,” says Bay. “He was pretty [exhausted] and had to pull out at the last minute. The promoters came to me and said ‘the stage is yours, if you want it’. These were big venues, over 1,000 people. And both nights the crowd stayed. That was mad: here I was in the middle of America and all these people expecting to see Hozier came along. It was crazy. You don’t forget occasions such as that.”
It was at another Hozier gig that he made the acquaintance of a prominent fan, who button-holed Bay backstage so that they could compare notes.
“Taylor Swift walked up to me and I was like ‘ohmygod, it’s Taylor Swift’. Of course I was – it was totally surreal. She’s one of the most successful people in pop, right at the top of the ladder. Whether you like her music or not, you have to recognise her success. The crazy thing was she had been listening to my music. That was cool and mind blowing. You never expect to be in that situation.”
Bay’s overnight stardom has attracted a degree of criticism with several commentators bemoaning the arrival of yet another sensitive strummer in the Ed Sheeran/George Ezra mould. Do we really, they have wondered allowed, require further helpings of 20-something dude-angst?
The singer isn’t much bothered by the doubters. He would like to point out that, far from an overnight sensation, he’s been quietly toiling for years, first at open mic evenings in his native Hitchin, Hertfordshire, then in pubs and clubs around London. When you’ve shushed your umpteenth room of rowdy drunks, music journalist put-downs start to feel comparatively trivial. He’s dealt with far worse than media snark.
“Success in music is about grabbing life by the balls and giving it your best shot,” he says. “With open mics, you walk into the room and there are three people who probably don’t know each other and are not at all interested in who you are. Or else it’s full of people boozed up and smashing down pints – they could care even less. If you can win them over, you are learning what it is to succeed with a crowd.”
He did worry whether his career would ever get off the ground. Having moved to London aged 21, Bay was required to return home within the year after his cash ran out. He took a job at his local; as month after month ebbed by, it occurred to him that he might plausibly spend the rest of his life behind a bar. It was a scary time.
“There was a good year where I was stuck behind the bar, feeling I was getting more and more cemented there. I was going into London every so often. But I had a moment where I was like ‘is this going to happen?’ It pinged into place not long afterwards. A few days after I quit working in the pub, I flew to New York to sign my record contract. That was a real step forward, like something from a movie. It was a whirlwind.”
He recorded his debut album in Nashville in late 2014. He’s grateful the record was finished before the hype kicked in. No matter how manic the attention grows, he knows he’s got a solid collection of songs in his back pocket. “It’s my first time doing any of this – and I must say, I’m glad with how it has worked out. I don’t have the pressure. There is no need to worry about the album. Instead, I can enjoy the other really great part of the job, which is playing to people.”
He isn’t taking success for granted. Maybe he’ll live up to all the acclaim; perhaps he’ll tumble on his arse and look mildly silly. Either way, he’s not bothered. So long as he can continue playing and recording he will be happy. Remove that backdrop of insecurity and life as a musician would, he argues, be a great deal less interesting.
“You’ve got to treat it like it’s always going to be this uncertain thing,” he says. “That will always be the reality, unless you are Elton John or Bruce Springsteen and are 40 years into your career. You are always trying to break new ground. I’ve spent three, four years, playing, writing, getting it wrong, getting it right. It’s all in there and, in the end, it will all stand to you.”

The Hold Back The River EP is out now.