If Tom Waits had appeared on an episode of Skins he'd have been King Krule. That's my line and I'm sticking to it.
Between gnarly guitars, a sparsely lit backdrop that beckons down on the listener like a lonely plague, and that gravelly, beyond-its-years voice, Archy Marshall has become a beloved staple of modern rock music, sounding like nothing else with enough confidence to carry simple ideas through songs that sound like voids.
His earlier records - King Krule, 6 Feet Beneath The Moon - may have seen him at his starkest, but Marshall's learned to lean in to new ideas, recently offering The Ooz as both a culmination and continuation of his sound. Flecks of jazz and grunge found their way onto the record, while Marshall's usual disassociating scowls made the record feel verbose and personal, letting the listener in just to send them away. It's as evocative as his sound of old, which our Clint described as a "slathering Billy Bragg" -- guitar and gruel.
Still, Marshall's work as King Krule finds itself packing an unholy punch. It's not often you can compare an artist to singer-songwriters like Adele (with whom he shares a manager) and Jandekin one breath, but here I go, doing it anyway, and be sure to check out his collaborations with Mount Kimbie too, 'cos it turns out he can do anything.