The singer-songwriter image has often been that of an earnest, folky, coffee-shop gigging roots player, disseminating serious songs about social issues and insightful introspection. Often doing so whilst wearing a wide-brimmed hat. But, certainly in the modern world, the acoustic pop version of that image is perhaps more prevalent – lighter, more accessible yet no less deft an artist. Jay Saint James, certainly falls, here at least, into this second category.
Rather than being a break-up song, ‘Cheap Rosé’ is, in fact, a pre-break-up song… capturing ideas and feelings that bubble under in that period when you both know that a relationship isn’t going to last, but neither of you wants to admit it… yet. So you open another bottle of the titular wine, avoid the issue staring you in the face, and carry on as if nothing is wrong.
It is both an intimate slice of indie-folk and the perfect three-minute pop song, adding immediacy to the former style and unexpected sophistication to the latter.
Deep and meaningful, personal yet universally relatable, deftly done, hooky as hell; if you played this on just the piano, you could tell people it was an early Billy Joel single, and no one would argue with you. And that, in my world at least, is a pretty high accolade for anyone to get.
