Take the vibe of Athlete, add in the swagger of the Arctic Monkeys, and mix in the wordplay of the Streets, and you might come close to an approximation of Jamie T and his debut Panic Prevention. But the sum total doesn’t come near the quality of the parts. Sure, Jamie’s got some talent, but I frankly just don’t care for it. Apparently, though, the English youth love it, which should tell you something. The monotonous beat and tone go on song after song after song, and his working-class South London accent begins drilling a hole in your head rather quickly. I’m not saying the kid’s got nothing to say, but I don’t want to hear it—and especially not for fourteen songs. Quality Jamie, not quantity.