Review Summary: Youth in all its sincerity.
There’s something to be said for mediocrity in art being revelled above its station because it was in the right place at the right time, and the context surrounding Jamie T’s
Panic Prevention certainly primed it for debut success. Bloc Party’s "
Silent Alarm" and Arctic Monkey’s “
Everything People Say I Am” championed a NME propagated furore that spoke to the disenfranchised early 20-somethings masses of the country, who worked at jobs they hated so they could live for the weekends. There’s a cynicism that relatable themes and pseudo empathies that encapsulate the zeitgeist are excellent marketing strategies, and it certainly spawned its share of knock off hacks in it for capital gain; but they dissolved as soon as the musical stylings blew differently and the bubble popped. Who the *** still listens to Razorlight?
Panic Prevention never changes however, because it is sincere, diverse and exactly the record Jamie T wanted to make. A menagerie of the legacy of folk punk legend Billy Bragg and in memoriam of The Street’s Mike Skinner’s fleeting career (listen to
Computers and Blues if you think that’s unnecessarily cruel), the frontman decries a period of life with the highest highs and the lowest lows. Songs flip tone from reckless excitement to claustrophobia and anxiety, the soulful choruses the hangover to the verse’s night out. It’s myopic, it’s petty and it’s utterly relatable. The music is eccentric and catchy, pulling turns with all the impulsiveness of the subject, funk bass lines (trust me, check “Operation” if nothing else) and jumped up guitar surging alongside Jamie rapping and scatting, a ten a day lightweight with a story to tell.
Being somber and depressive is too easy, and Jamie speaks with the confidence of a man who doesn’t know who he is but knows things are going to be alright. The tragedy of songs like “Stella”, the cycle of addiction passed down through generations and the death of a young girl, are balanced by “Back in the Game”'s reminders of how the simple things make life worth it: “take your brother down to the sea, have a twos on a cigarette”. Down your last pint, stick around for the last tune, borrow some of your mate’s baggy and button up your Primark shirt, because Bragg’s “New England” is a reality, but only for now. As we get older, and the angst-tainted glasses are pulled off our eyes, we’ll move past the hormone driven peaks and troughs to a place of quiet content, but
Panic Prevention is still there, so you can slap your forehead and smile when you remember trying to pull that girl at the taxi rank six years ago.
