[REVIEW] Jim Legxacy Turns Years of DIY Graft Into One of the UK’s Most Important Projects This Decade ‘Black British Music (2025)’

Black British Music. We’ve been makin’ asses shake since the Windrush.

That line, sampled across Jim Legxacy’s new mixtape, isn’t just a joke - it’s a mission statement. Humorous, yes, but heavy too. It threads through the project as a reminder of everything that came before, and the cultural weight that Black British artists continue to carry.

From the start, Black British Music felt like something more than an album release. Critics have called it one of the best of the year. But even beyond the reviews, there’s a sense of this being a moment. Not just for Jim, but for the wider UK creative scene that has supported, shaped, and grown alongside him.

Jim’s rise has always been unconventional. From lo-fi tapes like 'BTO!' full of guitar loops and chopped Afrobeats rhythms, to co-producing Central Cee and Dave’s Sprinter, he’s never fit into a box. On this project, with full label backing (XL Recordings) for the first time, he hasn’t played it safe. He’s made something that feels both chaotic and composed; loud, sharp, strange, and heartfelt.

The opener, “Context,” gives you the update. His sister passed. His mum’s had strokes. His breakout single got pulled from streaming. All of that pain filters into the rest of the mixtape, but it doesn’t drag. Instead, it moves like someone burning through emotions because sitting still is worse.

“Father” is a highlight. It flips 'I Love My Father' into something warped but warm, while Jim wrestles with what it means to grow up without a dad. “On the block, I was listening to Mitski” is the kind of line that sounds like a joke until it hits you, it’s not. It’s shorthand for the way he’s always held contradictions in the same hand. Drill scenes, sad-girl playlists, and gospel samples. All of it’s real to him.

“New David Bowie” feels like a microcosm of Jim’s style. Bollywood samples crash into harpsichord loops, then give way to synthy pop. Yes, all in just over two minutes. He does this a lot. Songs rarely last long, but the ideas are dense. Same goes for “’06 Wayne Rooney,” which lands somewhere between pop-punk anthem and stadium chant.

The tape’s most direct moment comes with “3x.” Jim trades in his usual genre chaos for an acoustic setting. The hook is simple: “Girl don’t hit my phone / I’d rather be alone again.” Then Dave appears with a verse that quietly steals the show. “Told Jim, you already did your sister proud.” No build-up, no dramatics, just a statement, and it lands hard.

There’s vulnerability throughout, but “Issues of Trust” pushes it furthest. Just a soft guitar line and Jim quietly working through guilt and grief. It’s the kind of song that stops everything else. “I’ve always been scared of being myself,” he admits. It's a moment of pause in an otherwise restless project.

That restlessness defines the mixtape. Tracks start in one place and end in another. Samples stack, drop, switch, and reappear. The narrator voice - somewhere between a sarcastic hype man and a football announcer - interrupts to remind you how good the music is. It’s unnecessary, but it fits the mood. The project doesn’t need cheerleading, but Jim might.

Not every song hits. “S.O.S.” feels lighter, and while it has the hallmarks of a potential hit, it doesn’t carry the emotional weight of the stronger material. “Tiger Driver ’91” drifts a bit too close to late-era Drake. These moments don’t derail the project, but they do slightly break the rhythm.

Still, the mixtape never loses its footing. Production-wise, it moves fast but never fumbles. There’s a clear throughline: distortion, nostalgia, grief, cultural memory, wit. And above all, resilience.

Because this isn’t just a record about sound. Black British Music is about identity, what it means to be Black and British, what it means to be creative under pressure, and what it means to build something while holding pain close. Jim doesn’t lecture or explain, and that, in itself, says more than any concept piece could.

Importantly, this is a project shaped by the community around it. Producers, stylists, designers, filmmakers, all part of the same underground creative ecosystem that’s been building something meaningful, slowly, quietly. Black British Music is a spotlight on that ecosystem, as much as it is a personal statement.

It’s rare to see an artist reach this stage without compromising their sound or identity. Jim hasn’t done either. He’s grown the scale, sharpened the songwriting, and kept the voice. This is the best he’s ever sounded, and it still feels like just the beginning.

Jim Legxacy hasn’t defined what Black British Music is. But with this project, he’s added to it. And that’s enough.

★★★★★