Jamie xx is Dance Music’s Benjamin Button

Despite his being the walking embodiment of the pubescent awkwardness, the loner kid who scribbled poetry and song lyrics onto his jeans, that actively avoided eye contact and always had headphones on, despite all of that, Jamie xx has a wealth of friends and collaborators. Chief among those in terms of time and appearances are Romy Madley Croft, a bandmate from the xx, and Kieran Hebden, aka Four Tet.

Where his work with Romy is all soft lines and smoothed edges, there is a stuttered jaggedness with Four Tet. In whatever incarnation, Jamie’s music strikes a decisive balance between simplicity and complexity, and it is imbued with a strong sense of restraint. The xx’s Coexist felt like a dance record being asked to tell its story with “just the facts” and a gun to its head. It was a beautiful record, but it felt like it was a half beat away from busting out in a four-on-the-floor and yelling, “I wanna dance!”

This restraint was painfully evident, and in large part, the identity of the xx’s self-titled debut, although as the story goes, that identity was borne out of necessity. They recorded in the basement and had to keep the recording sessions at a low volume in an effort to be polite and neighborly. (Have you ever heard something so British?) That album can be defined by many of the same qualities as those put out by musicians late in their careers. Soft, conservative, and reserved, nothing flashy and no gimmicks. This is the final stage of a natural progression that, in many ways, mirrors the natural aging process. But these were kids in their early 20’s, just starting out. So why did it sound like they were ready to retire? Was it artifact or intention?

Perhaps Jamie just wanted to save that breakout moment for his solo record. Maybe the xx and Coexist were him practicing the craft a simple and honest album without gimmicks or cheap tricks. In many ways, a break is just that, and the more an artist resorts to that, the more often they have to, and they slowly, though deliberately weave themselves a trap. If avoiding a gimmick trap was Jamie Smith’s goal, then I say his merit badge was well-earned.

Even on In Colour, there is still a subdued beat and tightened rhythm with a heart full of house. Take “SeeSaw,” for instance. Parts of the song are perfectly clear, but the majority of the song sounds like you’re hearing it through the headphones of somebody sitting next to you. That’s the part of the song where most of the life is, where the manic beat and janky synth lines, and Romy’s piecemeal crooning. I know this sounds like I feel cheated by the mixing, and I assure you, just the opposite is true. I respect his decisions to craft a unique dynamic range and arrangement. It’s incredible because all of that is intentional and showcases his craft.

But, along comes Four Tet again, poking holes in Jamie’s tight ship. Here comes that four-on-the-floor beat, changing the original’s manic heart into a breakbeat, and stretches the song across verse and chorus into a long, slow, thrusting heartbeat. The song follows the basic bassline, and all the parts follow in seemingly drunken, but strangely organized undulations.

Curiosity drives me to ask where he’s headed next if he continues down the path opposite of the natural progression of other musicians. If so, I greatly look forward to the imminent sophisticated disco record, and eventual descent into a thrash of heavy crunk beats, synth he plays with his fists, massive drops, and Lil John appearances.

Okay.

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