A nervous, new John Cooper Clarke or Sleaford Mods sans proletarian vitriol and arsed by half, this London storyteller is all Cockney and random guitar strumming. You’re sucked in and along for awhile before you realize you’re not sure what he’s on about, but by then it’s too late. Seems to have a mess of releases, unbeknownst to Letters until now.
https://www.cmj.com/letters-bandcamp-december-10-2015/
Cockney.
