The Jet guitarist steps out with his debut solo album, ‘Cam Muncey and the Delusions of Grandeur’, out 27 June 2025
Cam Muncey is in a studio in Abbotsford, Melbourne, deep in the guts of a new Jet record. He moves through the space like a man solving a riddle only he can see—rearranging things in his head, turning over puzzle pieces that aren’t yet visible to the rest of us. There’s a restlessness to the way he works. Not anxious. Just driven. Like he’s chasing something just out of his reach.
And yet, amid the noise and nostalgia of a Jet revival, Muncey has quietly carved out a different kind of project, his own. A solo album, dreamt up in isolation and sharpened in solitude. Cam Muncey and the Delusions of Grandeur which releases on 27 June, was not planned. It was more of a product of circumstance.
“Everything just grounded to a halt one day,” he says, recalling the early days of lockdown. “Before that point I’d been doing some solo writing—did one show under a different name. But when lockdown hit, I wanted to stay busy. So, I did.” He grins—wide, crooked, a little defiant.
What began as a means of staying sane quickly became something deeper. A full-blown creative escape. With a home studio at his fingertips, Muncey started following impulses instead of instruction. “I could write in whatever direction I wanted” he said when describing the process. “I could follow my whimsy, my fancy. Jet plugs into the amp. Here I could do psych rock. Have big, long instrumental and synth guitars. It’s truly liberating.”
You get the sense that, for Muncey, this wasn’t just an album—it was actually a reset. A true veteran of the industry rediscovering the thrill of the blank page. With no bandmates to lean on, no familiar framework to slot into, he had to become a student again. Learn to trust his own ears. His own instincts.
“It gave me the chance to develop my senses about what something should sound like,” he says. “And permission not to be so hard on myself. Because it is hard.”
Hard, yes—but also romantic in its difficulty. There’s something almost noble about the way Muncey talks about songwriting: not as a formula to crack, but as a labyrinth to get lost in. “Each time it’s a challenge,” he says. “Sometimes I record something and hate it. Then I change the genre. Or the rhythm. Sometimes the whole thing hinges on a single word. Or the subject leads me somewhere unexpected. You just keep going.”
He called the album Delusions of Grandeur. A title which particularly interesting particular in the context of music. I mean, musicians, more than most, are known for indulging in that very thing. The ego trip. The fantasy. The post-show high that never really leaves. From the limousine to the afterparty. But Muncey isn’t like that. Or at least, he doesn’t live there.
“It fascinated me,” he says of the title. “These people who really believe they’re better than they are. But you know when you’re making music, you have to believe it’s going to be incredible. I was playing on that tension.”
In his mind, every musician is doing a bit of cosplay. Even the cocky ones. “You just have to be fully locked in, or you’re wasting your time,” he says. “Like that Doechii song—‘DENIAL IS A RIVER’. Where she goes, ‘I like drugs, I like gettin’ money, I like strippers, I like to fuck.’ I feel that! You have to inhabit that person. Envision yourself as them.”
But Muncey, as he freely admits, would never become that person. He’s not living the delusion—he’s examining it. Poking at it with a grin and a guitar. After all, life with three kids will only ever allow so much fantasy.
“When you become a dad, you realise your kids don’t give a damn about what you’ve done. You’re just the guy who wipes their arse. That brings you down to earth pretty quickly.”
Still, let’s not pretend Muncey hasn’t earned the right to indulge a little. Jet was, and is, one of Australia’s most successful rock exports. They’ve been inducted into the ARIA Hall of Fame. Released three globally successful studio albums. Toured the world over. And dropped music that still, after all this time, means something. I mean, Are You Gonna Be My Girl literally soundtracked an entire generation’s iPod adolescence. Which, if you were a child of the early 2000’s you would understand, I would have been remiss if I didn’t ask about.
“We did that commercial really reluctantly, though,” he laughs, when asked about the now-iconic iPod ad. “Like we were dragged into it kicking and screaming. We just wanted to be a rock band on the road. Now, doing something like that is just common practice.”
So yeah—Muncey’s worn the leather jacket. Stood in the spotlight. Heard tens of thousands scream his lyrics back at him. But the ego never quite stuck. Not in the way you’d expect at least.
Delusions of grandeur? Maybe. But only in the title. In real life, he’s a just dad in Melbourne, chasing riffs and writing songs that might never leave his hard drive. And then, just like that, he’s back to work.
Cam Muncey and the Delusions of Grandeurs debut single, ‘Take A Chance’ can be listened to here. You can pre-order ‘Cam Muncey and the Delusions of Granduer’s’ self- titled debut album here. It is due to be released on 27 June 2025.
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