- Music
- 26 Feb 10
“Fuck Yeah, Jamie T! A thousand times Fuck Yeah!”
Considering he appeared with probably the least dynamic stage entrance I’ve ever seen, Jamie T looks pretty chuffed with himself.
A menacing rendition of ‘The Man’s Machine’ down and a Cheshire-cat grin on his mug, the All Rapping, All Strumming JT explains that he wants everyone in the Academy to be totally comfortable and to feel free to “throw shit” at him and his band. Scratch that, he wants the stage covered in beer.
The Wimbledon troubadour doesn’t have to ask twice. Plastic projectile missiles of beer are thence pelted at the stage every few seconds, and Jamie Treays looks almost like a proud parent when one smashes right through the bass drum.
The Londoner likes to mix the old, the new and the really new (ska-flavoured debutante ‘Man Not A Monster’ and the blazing Brahms-inspired ‘Dance Of The Young Professionals’ sound gloriously messy), and it’s paying off, as ‘368’ and ‘Sticks And Stones’ from 2009’s Kings And Queens are received just as rapturously as the likes of lairy signature tune ‘Sheila’. Luckily, the man looks good wet.
Rather brilliantly, when a pint hits T right on the noggin, he spits at a punter; “Was that you? 10 outta 10, mate. I’ll fuck your girlfriend for you later, yeah?” We may be jeering him as much as cheering him, but there’s also a kind of curious romance in our Love-Hate relationship with the scruffy sopping anti-hero. Treays’ rich urban scat is pitch perfect and never lovelier than on ‘If You Got The Money’. A solitary performance of the sweet and solemn ‘Emily’s Heart’ on acoustic guitar breaks any hearts left in the joint.
By the time he launches into the encore, the crowd have been chanting the hook to ‘Chaka Demus’ all night – but miraculously, the paradoxical chancer’s razor sharp tongue never gets lost in the racket.
Our courtship at its heartwarming peak, “Look after each other, that’s all we ask!” are Jaime T’s parting words. It wasn’t quite the proposal I was expecting, but I’m prepared to speak for every other beer-soaked reveller here when I bellow “Fuck Yeah, Jamie T! A thousand times Fuck Yeah!”