Jam Baxter

Jam Baxter has had an reasonably eventful time of it since he was last asked to summarise his musical adventures in biographical form. As ever, roaming around planet Earth’s farthest reaches, steadily tightening his grip on the very tallest branches of the musical canopy has been central to his movements. Most significantly however, Baxter has continued to prove himself as one of the most outlandish and trailblazing songwriters on the scene. The foreign excursions are clearly rubbing off on his songwriting; he is capable of taking the listeners on a voyage through his songwriting and this experience continues to grow more-and-more flamboyant with each release (and plane ticket purchase).

Best described as “a young William Shatner skulking around a London backstreet staring wistfully at pigeons” (his own words), Baxter can be found decimating live stages alone or in packs, sculpting releases that ooze unrivalled levels of dexterity, or simply sitting on Highbury Fields in the drizzle. It matters not which one of the above activities he may be doing at any particular time, the fact remains, no-one does it quite like Baxter.

Having set the ball rolling as the primary shareholder in Contact Play’s debut album ‘Champion Fraff’ way back in ’09, and with a Filofax of projects under his belt as a solo artist since, Baxter has also been moonlighting as one third of the Dead Players tripod when he finds a slot in his aforementioned diary. Baxter’s work certainly demystifies the theory that being prolific is often to the detriment of quality. New album ‘Mansion 38’ is the latest precious stone to have been put through the process and with a late 2017 release on the cards for what will be LP number four, the wave shows no signs of slowing.

And why should it? As Baxter will have you know it is all a matter of perspective: “Literally everything is funny. There is a beautiful surreal glow to the most outwardly grey and mundane of scenes. Some people just don’t get that. I sometimes suspect I might be starring in a cartoon watched by millions of giant oafish children.”

What next for JB? Well, as expected, not what you might expect. Some say he’s off to Brazil to hunt for a rare butterfly, others are whispering about a debut novel being printed in a seedy Tufnell Park printing press just in time for Christmas. ‘What next?’ is a tricky question to answer, but at the same time, it’s a pretty stupid question in the first place. Jam Baxter will continue to do the thing, his thing, and it will result in great stuff in many shapes and forms way off into the distance.