Some songs arrive fully formed. Others take years to find their voice. For Jamie Grey, From Under My Feet was a story that refused to be rushed. First teased online two years ago, the unfinished chorus quietly built a devoted following, with fans repeatedly asking when the full song would finally arrive. It wasn’t until one fan sent the original clip back to him that Grey found himself returning to the emotions that inspired it, completing a ballad that explores the fragile space between holding on and letting go.
Known for writing with unfiltered honesty, Grey has never shied away from vulnerability. Whether reflecting on the slow drift of a relationship, the leap of faith that saw him leave a career in finance to pursue music, or the setbacks that shaped his journey, his songs favour truth over perfection. That authenticity has earned him millions of streams, high-profile collaborations and a growing audience that connects as much with his storytelling as his voice.
As From Under My Feet ushers in another chapter ahead of his intimate UK and European Songs I Wrote tour, House of Solo sits down with Jamie Grey to discuss unfinished songs, emotional honesty, finding beauty in heartbreak and why being raw has become his greatest strength.
You posted a clip of the chorus two years ago, and fans never stopped asking for it. What was it about that specific clip sent by a fan three months ago that made you realise, “Okay, it’s time to finish this”?
I never rewatch things I post, nor do I really listen to my music, if I’m honest, after it’s released. When the fan re-sent me the video, I guess she just caught me at the right time. When I watched it, I thought to myself, “You know what, this is a really good chorus.” It really was time to dive back into this song.
Returning to a song years later can be tricky. How difficult was it to tap back into the exact emotional headspace you were in on the late night you first wrote that chorus?
I hear this a lot, that it’s tricky. Honestly, I don’t really ever feel that’s the case. If it’s something I genuinely felt at one point, then when I replay it I just feel it again. I’m usually able to dive back into it and remember exactly where I was coming from, even if I’m not there in that exact moment.
You’ve mentioned the song was partly sparked by hearing about Hugh Jackman and Deborra-Lee Furness’s separation after 27 years. What was it about their announcement that struck a chord in your songwriting?
I guess I just can’t really imagine how you can be married to someone for that long and then have it end later in life. Of course, I understand things happen and we never know what’s around the corner. For me, when I hear something like that, I kind of feel sad, despite it maybe being an amicable thing for them or the right choice for both. I guess I’m a bit of a fairytale believer like that.
‘From Under My Feet’ starts with a bare piano and vocal intimacy and expands into a massive choral wall of sound. What was the thought process behind that production transition?
It’s kind of my usual play in general! I’m a ‘90s child, and I love natural crescendos in songs. I always want my songs to grow as they play through. I’m also a bit of a dopamine junkie when it comes to music, so my ear always wants something new as the song progresses. I love dynamics in music, the pushing and pulling of instruments or volumes in a track. To me, that’s what makes music interesting and makes me feel things.
Leaving a secure career in finance to pursue music after watching office buskers is a huge risk. What was the exact tipping point where you decided to quit and commit fully to music?
It just built up in my heart to a point where I couldn’t take it anymore. It sounds dramatic and maybe cheesy, but imagine finding it slightly harder to breathe every day until you eventually run out of air. That’s what it felt like getting older every day and not making music.
Your journey through The Voice wasn’t an immediate success story. You were eliminated in the opening round before returning the next year to make the top eight. What kept you grounded and motivated during that pub-gig grind in between?
Being grounded will never be an issue for me. I pride myself on that. Arrogance is the one trait I hate in people more than anything else. There’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance, of course, but I was raised to always be appreciative and to always treat people with respect.
Motivation isn’t really a factor when you love what you do. Sure, I was down after not getting a turn the first time, and in that moment I did wonder if I had enough talent to make music a career. I was young, though, and didn’t understand that setbacks are a part of life and simply a way to grow.
Making music isn’t a job for me. It’s literally my favourite thing to do in the entire world. After being down for a few days, my heart just said, “Let’s go again.”
You’ve talked about writing sad songs as a personal way to process and heal. Does sharing such raw, vulnerable feelings with listeners ever feel daunting, or is it purely therapeutic?
It doesn’t really ever feel daunting, unless maybe the lyrics are super raw and flirt with the line of being too much. Even then, I usually end up feeling like the more raw and honest I’m being, the better the song is. At least to me, anyway. I’ve realised and accepted that’s just my taste. I love artists who tell me things clear as day, or movies where I believe that really could have, or did, happen. I’m not really a fiction guy or a metaphorical songwriter. I get excited by sharing these feelings and really hope people can relate to what I’m saying.
You’ve built a strong collaborative relationship with producer Anders Höjer, including co-writing James Arthur’s hit ‘Falling Like The Stars’. What makes your creative partnership work so well?
He’s a gentle soul, and I really like that in a studio environment. I need my working relationships to ebb and flow and feel like the energy is completely even, and we have that. He talks, I listen, and vice versa. We have a natural respect for one another without really working on it. Also, like me, he’s not a guy who’s 100% sure of himself 100% of the time, and I really love that.
2026 has seen you release intimate tracks like ‘Feather’ and ‘How Did We Get To Midnight?’ alongside bigger pop sounds like ‘Unequivocal’. How do you decide which direction a song should take during the writing process?
I think that’s an automatic thing built within every songwriter. You never really know where it’s going to go or when it’s going to happen. You just feel something, and you act on it. Again, what I love about working with Anders is that we’re both open to going anywhere and everywhere at any moment. More often than not, our direction of travel is the same. I guess that’s what chemistry is.
This October, you’re kicking off a full UK and European headline tour with a direct, one-man acoustic format. How are you preparing to translate these emotionally heavy studio tracks into intimate live spaces like King Tut’s and The Lower Third?
I think this is where I shine best. A word I keep coming back to when it comes to my artistry is “raw.” I think I’m actually better unpolished, when people can hear a crack in my voice or the lump in my throat on some of the songs. Fans have forever told me they prefer me live as opposed to on the tracks. That’s something I never really liked hearing, if I’m honest, despite it being a compliment. I always interpreted it as, “I need to be better on the recordings.”
However, as I’ve got older, I’m starting to realise just what a compliment that is, and my heart is telling me it’s always going to be this way. I think maybe I just give more when people are in the room, and I certainly hope they can feel how real the songs are for me.
