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King Krule
I like to think of King Krule as the Brit school's sort of evil other side, where Adele, Jessie J, Kate Nash, et al, where busy making the kind of cloying sentimental pop music aimed to slowly strangle the charts, King Krule was instead stuck in his bedroom channeling the blue spirit of Lightning Hopkins, the teenage angst of Eddie Cochran and the anti-social aggression of London's contemporaneous bass culture.



