Panic Prevention

Hip-hop is only a fragment of Jmaie T's DIY grenade, and the messy hybrid of punk, rap, and reggae on Panic prevention makes Skinner's grime gleam. [Oct 2007, p.172]

Experimental yet poppy, awkward yet unforced, Panic Prevention is a minor masterpiece from a truly bar-raising new talent.

A cheeky, delirious romp that's rife with humor and originality, this debut channels the euphoric sound of an underdog finding his voice and gaining his glory.

Panic Prevention is no classic, but a wonderful testament to intuition, which boisterously, and rightfully, posits Jamie T in that rare class of pioneering artist, one who has created a piece of work to stand with any of the other notable records released so far this year.

For all the one-paced nature of its songwriting, wilfully lo-fi production values, inevitable Lily Allen comparisons and grating larynx, Panic Prevention is still an enthralling debut, and one that says infinitely more about the life of young Londoners than any amount of Bloc Party seriousness.

With his debut record Jamie T has--whether he meant to or not-- sound-tracked perfectly the condition of being, as described in Michael Bracewell's book "England Is Mine," today's ‘suburban dandy.'

Panic Prevention may not be easy to like, but it’s also hard to ignore.

One of the year's early musical highlights.

Fact is, though, the best metropolitan records are part gutter reality, part romantic fantasy, and so it goes with Panic Prevention.

It's frequently ridiculous and makes you a bit embarrassed for the folly and bravado of youth, but the guy has an uncanny knack for that perfectly evocative couplet and addictive hook, which is why his supporters are so vocal.

There are many more interesting artists out there doing the kind of thing Jamie does with more panache and originality with voices that don't make me want to throw myself under an underground train, but they're not from Wimbledon.

Jamie’s world is full of real people just trying to get by, and he profiles these characters in an engaging way, delving into the debauchery and ennui of the lives of young people. He sets these profiles to beats and tunes as cheap and tasty as a warm beer in a hot bar.

you've heard them before. But it's not enough to sustain interest. The dead spaces in between just feel flatter in comparison, and those same hooks end up feeling disposable. It's a sharp, quick-burn of an attraction.

When he sticks to cheeky storytelling, the album gains grimy traction, but empty dirges like 'Pacemaker' send it drifting into novelty territory. [Oct 2007, p.112]

The little things are annoying, of course, like the “that'll do” pointless pop culture punnery namedrops that litter (“Starz in Their Eyes”/”Alicia Quays”), or the way they take up so much time with vocal samples from (old documentaries/self-help tapes) in the same way that a struggling student quotes increasingly large and irrelevant passages of text in a desperate attempt to meet a word count.

What Treays has in abundance, and what Allsopp lacks, is original ideas and memorable hooks.

A glorious blend of wired energy and sullen attitude.