The sound of the blues is fairly thin pickings, these days, and there is a need for some novelty to enter the scene. Blues fans fearing a dearth of creativity in the genre, despite former Manfred’s front man, Paul Jones’, regular BBC Radio Two tub-thumping slot, can breathe easy, with the knowledge that, in a quiet corner of Kent exists an exciting new talent that warrants recognition. It has never ceased to amaze me how prodigious and young talents can emerge from the least likely quarters.

Not so long ago Jamie Cullum delivered for the jazz scene and, in a similar way, Johnny Boy (JB) James is hoping to do the same for blues’ aficionados. Of course, it is small potatoes at the moment, because he is employed as both PR support and as an MC for the Mick Jagger Arts Centre in Dartford. However, be under no illusion, JB is on his way as both singer and original songwriter.

He has ground his teeth on the blues ‘classics’, playing several gigs a week in the south of England, and possesses an encyclopaedic knowledge of the entire scene, from its earliest protagonists to the most enduring of its surviving performers. Yet, he brings a breath of fresh air to a musical style that he loves intensely, yet which has always seemed too willing to reside in maudlin self-aggrandisement.

JB’s debut album, for which no apology is given for the Apple-esque logo on its cover, is a remarkably lucid and colourful display of his skills. It’s blues alright but not necessarily in the way you might know it. While some lesser-known  ‘standards’, such as ‘St James Infirmary’ and ‘Is That a Monkey You Got’n?’ serve purpose and add some traditional values to the eleven tracks, the balance of them are largely self-penned and provide a welcome mix of lifestyle subject matters.

If there is one minor issue, it is that both opening track, ‘Bitter Pill’, and the following track, ‘Casey’, are about ‘non-prescription medication’, neither of which, primarily, you would expect a 21 year old to have much experience of, although the second of these tracks is more about the demise of a personal friend to cocaine’s debilitating effects.

JB’s tonal quality is as dirty and gravelly as some of his song contents, although there are several particular highlights in an album packed with gems. His harmonica work is clearly influenced by the Deep South, albeit possessing an essence of Medway, rather than Mississippi. Even plucking banjo strings is not beyond his capabilities, although he is a consummate acoustic strummer and a timely warbler.

Although he admits to having a second album ready to be laid down, his self-produced (at Rodel Sound, Penge) first effort features Whistling Gus McKinlay on the skins, with Dan Cooper adding piano and bass guitar. JB has created a delightful offering, packed with self-effacing humour and a maturity way beyond his years. Is their another prodigy set to emerge? You had better believe it and the blues scene is going to be the beneficiary, rest assured.