With heavyweight guardian angels taking the form of Alan McGee and ex-Libertines Gary Powell, further endorsement for Jeye T is really superfluous. But praise is deserved for the tangle of genres which he painstakingly distills and makes new. A grunge drawl has been made to fit with romantic anodyne melancholic verse like two bits of uncooperative lego – and happily it’s made something beautifully abstract that none of the other kids have got.

The honourable McGee nominates him for a prize for effort (“he sends a lot of emails”), and to this Jeye reacts with charming and admirable self-satisfaction. He is an unapologetic visionary who is unlikely to lose faith. Undeterred by criticism, Jeye can see that “negativity comes with it. It comes with anything man”. His manner of delivery proves that he is not merely locking himself in his industry-grade bubble. He is strong and more likely to be bolstered by criticism than wilted by it. “It’s inevitable in any path you take. You’ll be walking down the street and someone will take you apart, but I’m doing what I want to do”. I ask whether should the world turn and leave him without support, would he carry on. “Of course. It would just make me more determined to prove the rest of them wrong.”

Anyone with a label-gun better sit this one out, because they’re going to be baffled into submission. Jeye resolutely refuses to adhere to genres from song to song. He exudes Dylan-esque ambiguity – a sort of proactive penchant for reverie and the patience necessary for wandering thoughts. “My material isn’t really about where I am or where I’m from. It’s sort of…mysterious? It’s psychedelic and surreal.”

Psychedelic is an apt word which, lazily translated, means “soul-manifesting”. Jeye’s music betrays his soul, allowing him some room to fashion a character for himself without compromise of candor or integrity. “If I had to choose between folk-storyteller and front man, I’d choose front man every time.” Everyone likes their poetry cut with a little bit of arrogance, and every front man is the visualisation of the dominant part of an artist’s duality. But it shouldn’t be forgotten that with this declaration comes the inevitable tirade of comparisons with Kurt Cobain, Liam Gallagher and all the other charismatically romantic and twisted heroes. As the latter has proven, you can sing about lasagne if you sing it with conviction.

Happily, the similarity extends to the material needed to back up his certitude and, quite frankly, the undiluted humanity which will stop him from becoming the distorted caricature that many sadly become. “I was a singer songwriter who never found the right band, but now the impact of the music will be instant, especially live. The EP has even been recorded live, so it has a rawness to it which I really wanted to achieve.” Scratchy and diffuse but with embedded structure, Jeye delivers on this promise with ‘Is There Majick’ – a favourite of McGee. Jeye unpicks it all and repackages it, with lethargic vocal delivery and stargazing poetry. His entire presence embraces determined ambition without restlessness. “Never settle, you know? I will do anything, attempt anything.” Dreamer though he may be, he is more likely to pull us into his world than we are to lose him to lethargy.

Jeye T’s EP ‘Telescopic Eye’ is out now on 25 Hour Convenience Store.