‘Ask Tim Booth where he gets his trousers,’ says my mate Jem when I tell him I might be interviewing James. Jem’s family pitches in with questions – they all love the band.
By Miles Salter
On a dark, cold November night in Leeds, band members from James are in Crash Records, a cramped but defiantly independent store in the centre of the city, signing their latest offering.
Nothing But Love – The Definitive Best Of is a compilation of music that shows the longevity of the band. It’s a sprawling affair – 58 songs that cover four decades of music, from 1983 to 2024. Cunningly, they’ve included two new tracks so the completists will want to buy it.
James have released eighteen albums. That they’re willing to support small independent music shops shows a degree of integrity for which they should be applauded. Next spring they’re playing arenas, including the huge First Direct Arena, close to Crash Records, but here they are, helping an independent music store that needs the sales.
Earlier in their career, though, James could afford to be haughtier. In their ‘90s heyday, when Sit Down sang from student union speakers and a zillion radios, they turned down the chance to be on the cover of NME, an oddly self-harming gesture that recalled The Clash’s perverse refusal to appear on Top Of The Pops. When the record company offered to ‘break’ the band in America, pouring money into promotion, James resisted. They later reflected on some strange decisions.
Sit Down remains one of the most distinctive anthems of the 1990s, with a soulfulness that certain other ‘90s acts (mentioning no names) could not have matched. The song seems to be about community, of a sort, recognising we are all blighted by the human condition. ‘Those who find themselves ridiculous, sit down next to me,’ sang Booth. It was joyful, playful, had world beating hooks and was completely irresistible.
At the student Union in York where I was jumping about on a Friday night (and Jem was often spinning records), cheap pints and James’ long-sleeved shirts were ubiquitous.
But the song would be adopted in ways that the band found deplorable. When Tommy Robinson used Sit Down at his racially driven protest in London in September 2025, Booth voiced his disgust. ‘No permission was granted, and we are looking into our options,’ he wrote on social media.
Booth is a native of Boston Spa, close to York. He rebelled against a stifling upbringing. It was very English, pretty repressed. In interviews he has often asserted a desire to avoid life that is stifling and dull.
His grandfather had fought in World War One, winning a medal for heroism in the trenches. ‘He’d been in No Man’s Land with a dying commander for two to three days. He had a breakdown in the 1970s and the breakdown was the post-traumatic stress disorder he had sat on all his life. My grandfather was always angry, and I didn’t like him very much as a child because he was just a bit scary. Then he had a breakdown, and we realised he was sitting on PTSD.’
The emotional impact rolled through the family. Booth’s father sent his son to a boarding school in the 1970s. Booth hated the stale environment but discovered an affinity for communication. He kept books in his bed and liked the feel of them against his feet.
When he won a writing prize, his teacher took him to see Monty Python live in 1973. The anarchy and joyful invention of John Cleese, Michael Palin, and the rest made a huge impression on Booth.
He was not, however, without his own physical struggles – including jaundice. ‘I was bright yellow from about age twelve to about 22,’ he said. Booth joined James in 1982, originally as a dancer but soon moved on to become singer and frontman. The band’s original leader, Paul Gilbertson, was ejected in 1984 over drugs issues.
Over decades, Booth has employed a variety of tactics to deal with his own psychic and emotional struggles. These have included (like The Cult’s Ian Astbury) hanging out with shamans, use of meditation, and getting into a ‘flow’ state with music. He’s used MDMA therapy to cure depression and PTSD.
He’s also been involved in writing. His first book, When I Died For The First Time, was published in 2024. It tells the story of a singer called Seth Brakes who fronts a band called The Lucky Fuckers and tries to manage his sobriety. It’s comedic, dark, and sounds like it could be a tiny bit autobiographical.
With the ‘90s success, the band enjoyed themselves. On the Lollapalooza tour in 1997, they appeared alongside Snoop Dogg, Korn, Tricky and Tool. James were regarded by some as the wildest act on the tour. All the usual temptations of rock n roll were there, and the band found it hard to resist.
Over time, calmness came along. Booth would train to be a therapist. He left James in 2001 after the Pleased To Meet You album, when issues were present in the band: ‘a lot of addiction…a lot of unconscious hostility.’ After a length hiatus, during which some personal issues were addressed, they regrouped. These days they’re a nine-piece – a large band, capable of a big noise.
The interview never happens. The shop in Leeds is full of people wanting things to be signed, and, in a bad mood for various reasons, I head back to York, where it’s raining. I get on my bike and ride through the dark, pissed off.
Perhaps I need more shamanism in my life, or some MDMA. Maybe I just need to get over it. What are the words of Sit Down? ‘In love, in fear, in hate, in tears.’ To quote another band, ‘we’re all amateurs here.’
And I never did find out about the trousers.
Nothing But Love: The Definitive Best Of is out now. James play Leeds Direct Arena on Saturday 4 April 2026.
