Straight Up

Jamie James doesn’t just write music he lives in it. And with Straight Up, you get the sense that you’re not just hearing songs; you’re eavesdropping on stories, moments, moods, and memories that have brewed over decades. This is the kind of record that doesn’t rush to impress instead, it leans back, pours a whiskey, and lets the groove do the talking.

There’s a worn-in feel to this album that instantly puts you at ease. It’s not trying to chase trends or fit into a neatly packaged genre. It feels more like a conversation with an old friend sometimes playful, sometimes brutally honest, always real. Jamie James navigates blues, rock, and rootsy Americana with the kind of ease that only comes from someone who’s done the miles. You can hear the dust on the boots and the late night sessions in every note.

What’s immediately striking is how lived in the whole thing feels. From the first few seconds, there’s a warmth and looseness that draws you in. You can almost picture the studio vintage amps humming, cigarette smoke curling, maybe someone pouring another drink in the corner. It’s raw in the best way: not undercooked, just honest. The production never gets in the way of the personality. You hear creaks in the floorboards, imperfections in the takes, and all of it adds to the charm.

Lyrically, James straddles that line between sly wit and soul-baring honesty. There’s humour tucked into his phrasing, but it’s never gimmicky. It comes from a place of perspective, like someone who’s been through the ringer but still finds reasons to laugh. At the same time, he doesn’t shy away from vulnerability whether he’s confronting time’s passage, personal struggle, or the absurdity of the music industry, it all comes across with sincerity and a wink.

Stylistically, Straight Up lives somewhere between classic blues-rock and late-night dive bar storytelling. Think somewhere between J.J. Cale, early Tom Waits, and a looser Clapton but all filtered through Jamie’s own voice and experience. There’s swagger, sure, but there’s also reflection. He never leans too hard in either direction. The record breathes.

What’s really refreshing is that it’s not overproduced or polished within an inch of its life. There’s no sense of “trying too hard” here. The guitar tones are warm and gritty, the rhythm section grooves with subtle confidence, and James’ vocals carry the whole thing with a smoky kind of authority. You get the feeling these songs weren’t laboured over for months they were probably captured in a handful of takes, with instinct leading the way. And that instinct is right on the money.

There’s also a kind of emotional through-line that holds the whole album together. Even when the tempo picks up or the lyrics get tongue-in-cheek, there’s a weight underneath a sense that Jamie isn’t just playing the blues; he’s carried them. And that gives the lighter moments more impact. The album doesn’t wallow, but it doesn’t ignore the shadows either. It acknowledges them, tips its hat, and keeps moving.

One of the more surprising strengths of Straight Up is how diverse it manages to be without ever losing its identity. You get hints of swing, classic rock, back-porch blues, even touches of gospel and soul but it never feels disjointed. Jamie’s voice both vocally and as a writer is the anchor. It’s not about fireworks or technical flexing. It’s about vibe, tone, and heart. And on that front, he delivers in spades.

You can tell this is music made for the love of it. There’s no pretension here. No desperation to chase a chart position or please an algorithm. It’s music you’d expect to hear played live in a dimly lit venue, where the audience is close enough to see the sweat on the fretboard and the stories behind the eyes. That closeness, that intimacy, is something most records today don’t even try to capture but Jamie James bottles it.

It’s also worth noting how well-paced the record is. Even at ten tracks, it never drags. Each song feels like it earns its place, and there’s a natural arc to the listening experience. By the end, you don’t feel exhausted or overwhelmed you just feel like you’ve spent time with someone who had something to say, and said it in exactly the way they needed to. No filter, no fluff.

If there’s a takeaway from Straight Up, it’s this: there’s still something powerful about music that doesn’t try to be everything to everyone. This record knows exactly what it is bluesy, heartfelt, sometimes cheeky, always grounded and it leans into that with conviction. Jamie James might not be aiming to reinvent the wheel, but he’s making damn sure it rolls smooth.