Far removed from glamour, Jaymay, a New Yorker in London, travels by train spends a lot of time in front of tumble dryers - but she has a debut album of crystal-clear talent to show for it, writes Tony Clayton-Lea.
One of the best new female singer-songwriters - and you'd best prepare for a veritable deluge of these in 2008 - is being mistreated and mishandled by her charges. Despite the fact that Jamie Seerman, aka Jaymay, has released in Autumn Fallin' a debut album of crystal-clear talent and delicate, remarkably lovely songs, she still travels by train and ferry to her gigs, still uses the local launderette to wash her clothes, still stays (on occasion, only when she's very well behaved) in hotels in Shepherds Bush.
Such unsympathetic treatment by a major record company towards one of their brightest hopes doesn't seem to faze the 26-year-old New Yorker. Indeed, she seems to thrive on the general air of frazzled bohemia that surrounds her. Then again, it could be due to the fact that she has been based in London for almost a year, and has chosen to live a relatively frugal life so that when her album (and forthcoming ones) sells in bucketloads she won't be paying back her advance forever.
As an American in London, Jaymay has long since passed the point of being self-conscious about her accent or her love of kooky stuff. The terrific aspect of being based in the UK, she says, is that for the first time in her life, or her career, she is touring. "I'd played gigs in New York, but probably about four shows a month," she says.
"They're working me hard in the UK, and it's something that I don't mind. I suppose the perception of touring so much is that people reckon I've got staff to do things for me all the time, but it's actually nothing of the sort. I wish! I tend to spend all my time in front of very large tumble dryers; what I do is the least glamorous thing in the world. What it is, though, is awesome - because I love travelling by train and I love to write and read while I travel. If I wasn't doing music I'd love to be paid to read books - I'd read the rest of my life away. Also, I've been everywhere in Britain - I know more about areas of the UK than I do about where I'm from."
The English music fan - are they a listening breed, or do they fold their arms and wait to be impressed? "I always describe London as a cat waiting to give you its affection. It's a very hard city to win over; and it's a bit of a struggle living and playing here. People are more reserved, and I don't feel an instant willingness to embrace artists. When I perform, the audience is quite synonymous with an NYC audience - their arms are folded, and they stand there listening but you can't derive from the way they look or applaud whether or not they like you or the songs. It's a lot of guesswork. After shows in London people won't really come up and talk. They'll write to me on MySpace and e-mails but no one seems to want to talk face-to-face. Very curious."
Is the lack of obvious appeal unnerving for her, particularly when she's on stage? "Not at all. I'm in my own world when I'm performing, even when I'm talking to the audience. I have totally different perceptions as to how shows go. I'm better with recordings. My interpretation of my performance has a lot to do with my mood prior to going on stage, and just because I'm affable with an audience doesn't necessarily mean it's going to be a great show. Oftentimes I'll be in a bad mood and could then give a great performance. It's unpredictable."
LESS UNPREDICTABLE IS the continuing rise of Jaymay's profile. For some years while in New York, she cut her songwriting and performing teeth playing urban folk songs at open-mic nights in the city's bars. For the past few years she honed to perfection the songs that would be included on her debut, writing them faster than she was allowed to record. The album was released ever so quietly late last year, yet has been the kind of record that has built up its own reputation. It's a concept record of sorts, a book-ended, internalised, emotional travelogue documenting a serious love affair in Manhattan that comes to a despairing conclusion just as winter chills starts to bite. Put it this way - if you're looking for a songwriter that channels the smart hooks and acidic lyrical bounce of Bob Dylan and the svelte delivery of Norah Jones, then Jaymay is a safe and highly focused bet.
Interestingly, her songwriting is never muddled or obtuse - is she a reasonably clear-headed person? "Only about particular things," she says, "things that I want and am striving for. In those areas, I'm very clear-headed. The perception of songwriters, of course, is that they're the opposite, but I'm quite perceptive and very present. At the same time, however, I'm aloof in that some conversations I have I can't remember at all. The reason for that is I constantly think about music - it just doesn't stop. At all."
Does she miss anything about her early days running around Manhattan's bars with an acoustic guitar for company? Jaymay ponders for a moment. "Well, they were fearless. I fight the opposite, of course, because the less fearless you are the less of a singer you become. It's great to feel that you have nothing to lose - you might be nervous but I was fearless.
"Now? I know myself more as a songwriter, weaknesses and strengths, but I'm more wary of what is happening. Less fearless, perhaps. But very fortunate, for certain. The balance works."
Jaymay's debut album, Autumn Fallin'is out through Heavenly/EMI. She plays Whelan's, Dublin, on Feb 11