Jitwam - Third (LP) - Yellow Vinyl

Third lands like a late night city drive, windows down, lights blurring past, bass nudging your ribcage. Released in 2022, it’s the most complete statement yet from Jitwam, the Indian-born, Australian-raised singer, producer, and crate-digger who has spent meaningful time in scenes from Sydney to New York and London. He’s always blended dusty hip-hop drums with psych-soul mood and house bounce, but here the pieces lock into a deep, unforced groove. It feels lived-in. It feels like he’s taken the long route home and knows every bump in the road.

The calling card cut is Brooklyn Ballers, a slinky floor-worker that crept into DJ bags the moment it hit. The bassline struts but never shouts. Handclaps snap. A clipped vocal hook loops like a mantra, then gives way to little Rhodes flutters and guitar flickers that keep the track breathing. It’s deceptively simple, the kind of tune that DJs love because it bridges rooms and tempos, and the kind of thing fans put on repeat because it gets better the tenth time through. If you’ve been hunting for Jitwam vinyl, this is the track that will sell you on taking the album home.

Across the record, he keeps the palette warm and tactile. Drums sound like they were played in a small room with the mics just a touch too close. Keys smear and crackle. Bass stays front and center, carrying the pocket while his voice drifts in and out of focus, more texture than showpiece. It’s a house record in spirit, a soul record in heart, and a jazz record in its patience. You can hear the lineage he’s always nodded to, from the late-night MPC alchemy of Detroit to the open-ended feel of London’s broken beat and the hazy sample science of classic hip-hop. Yet nothing here plays like homage. It’s all folded into his own sensibility, loose but intentional.

What makes Third stick is how it moves between eyes-closed introspection and get-up-and-move energy without losing its center. One moment he’s leaning into a clipped four-on-the-floor and a vocal chant that feels almost percussive. The next he’s letting a guitar line breathe for a few bars longer than you expect, or he’s dropping the drums back to let a synth figure glint in the margin. The sequencing helps. You can drop the needle at the start and let it ride, and it rewards you with little details on each pass, the kind of moments you clock only when you’re not doing anything else.

There’s a sense of community threaded through it too. Jitwam’s work has long been tied to a network of kindred spirits, and even when he’s working solo you hear a band mentality. He leaves space. He builds dialog between parts. Nothing is over-polished, which is part of the charm. The record sounds like a studio with friends coming through, trading ideas, pushing faders, chasing a feeling until it hits. That looseness makes the grooves feel human, and it’s why the album translates so well from headphones to a proper system.

Speaking of systems, Third vinyl is worth the shelf space. The low end has that rounded, room-filling weight that suits his production, and the highs stay soft, never brittle. If you like to buy Jitwam records online, track down a copy while they’re still floating around at sane prices. And if you happen to be flipping in a Melbourne record store, it’s an easy staff-pick recommendation alongside Moodymann and SAULT. For anyone building a stack of Jitwam albums on vinyl, this sits right next to Honeycomb as a keeper.

Third doesn’t shout its significance, but it grows into one of those records you reach for when you want your apartment to feel warmer, or when a living room gathering shifts from conversation to a slow dance. It’s understated and deeply inviting, a small-world-to-big-world album from an artist who keeps refining his lane. If your search history looks anything like mine, with tabs for Jitwam vinyl, buy Jitwam records online, and the usual detour into vinyl records Australia, you can stop hunting for a while. This one does the trick, and then some.