(Virgin/EMI)

Don’t be deterred by the soothsaying coming from the NME hype merchants and please, quickly dismiss anyone who labels him as a male Lily Allen, a British Beastie Boy or the next Mike Skinner, for Jamie T is a unique musical entity unto himself. Panic Prevention, his much anticipated and drooled upon debut album, is a bouncy and hyperactive history lesson in English pop music that daringly draws from almost every great musical movement the Isle has spewed forth. Looking almost like a young Shane Gowan and sounding a little like Billy Brag on a helium come down, Jamie T smears London attitude and effortless teen talent all over his debut. But despite crashing in on the almost overwhelming wave of MySpace-promoted bright young things perpetually flooding iTunes, Jamie T manages to stand out with broad musical scope (despite a DIY bedroom aesthetic) and a knack for storytelling that is beyond his years.

Much like the Arctic Monkey’s Alex Turner who turned his town of Sheffield into a hilarious hotbed of youth sordidness, alienation and frustration, T plunders multicultural London and comes up with tales of parental dysfunction, stoned and drunken love, wild club nights and girls, girls, girls. His sprawling, multi-strand tale of reckless relationships Sheila is set to a backdrop of beer soaked, punch-drunk hip hop and youth discontent. He weaves tales of dissatisfied lasses like Sheila (who “goes out with her mate Stella it gets poured all over her fella ‘cause she says he ‘aint no better than the next man kickin up a fuss”) in with stories of lonely dealers like Jack who trades love for blow (“well done Jack glug down that cider, you’re right she’s a slut, and you never fuckin liked her”), all the while with an unflappable will that results in a rich urban tapestry.

The dark and nervy Operation sees Jamie T flex Gang Of Four style political guitar muscle and wild nihilism, spitting “Take your problem to the United Nations, tell ol’ Kofi bout the situation. Tell him ‘bout how you left the congregation, sittin in the pews, in the pews, all alone”. So Lonely Was The Ballad clunks along with a weezy organ line and crocodile snap drum loop with forlorn tales of longing lust, but Jamie never lets melancholy stray to far from his cheeky sense of humor, slinging “He puts on his hat then his gloves then its home to the missus who sits on his tongue”.

Panic Prevention is a heady, challenging brew of cock sure attitude and vulnerability. It’s youthful vigor and angst spills honestly over into the music and even though at times Jamie seems a little unsure of himself (see Pacemaker, a round-and-round filler track that comes off like a pale, snooze-inducing imitation of the Clash ), this is an outstanding debut. Jamie T has intelligence and sensitivity that looks past the brutish ‘life of a lad’ that Mike Skinner presents and peers into deeper, darker wells of youth psyche where Lilly Allen wouldn’t dare to go. He asks why his mates have been killed and he wants reasons why the girl leaves; he doesn’t just observe, he questions (much like Strummer and Lyndon) and he wraps it up in a myriad of influences that touch everyone from The Fall to Roots Manuva. An essential album for this year and hopefully the beginning of an impressive career.