Dan Le Sac Vs Scroobius Pip

Take one plain face and give it some large, knowing muttons chops. Take another plain face and add a weighty, insightful beard. Now put the first face next to an Apple Mac and the second in front of a pen and some paper. Ignite, stand well back, and enjoy the spectacle.

The first face is Dan Le Sac, a production robot from the planet Gameboy. He sees our world in binary code. For him, sound is merely a calculated output resonating from a user interface. He, therefore, only ever communicates through pings and bleeps.

The second face is Scroobius Pip, a pugnacious scribe with an arsenal of words. His pugilist blows come not from his fists, but from his mind. His wit is so sharp it cuts deep, real deep, leaving victims wounded and spurting jets of liquid hip hop.

At first glance they seem the most unlikely of pairings and at first listen it’s clear why they never work together off stage. Yet, as the inventor of the first peanut butter and jam sandwiches must’ve said, don’t knock ‘em till you try ‘em. And the masses do love to try ‘em. Glastonbury, Reading, Leeds and Bestival have all swollen with the hype surrounding this hairy, label-less twosome.

As a band, it was clear they were revelling in the headline kudos of Scala and it showed as they swaggered through a think-tank of rarities. Le Sac’s lo-fi Hot Chip geekery fused a kinetic structure upon which Pip delivered his poetic, belligerent sermons. Dishing out lesson after lesson, this was a vision of the future, machine telling man what he would otherwise not consider: the hidden beauty of Tommy Cooper’s death; the story of ‘Angles’, a suicide revenge murder with many points of view; the dissatisfaction of God with Man (“I was a simple being that happened to yield such powers, but I just laid the ground, it was YOU that built the Towers”).

Despite this, the lecture was not just insight and inciting: there was romance in ‘The Beat That My Heart Skipped’ as a naked electro thump coupled with Pip’s synthetic yearnings; there was political surrealism in ‘Fixed’ (“I got a holster, I keep biscuits in”); and there was infectious sarcasm in the novelty single ‘Thou Shalt Always Kill’ (“Thou shall not judge a book by its cover, thou shall not judge Lethal Weapon by Danny Glover”).

Due to the absence of a tangible album release (Xmas is the word on the street), the set list was Keira-thin. To flesh out the body of the show a few theatrical props were adopted – a Bible, an intricate detailing of the periodic table. These were then aided by a couple of surprising covers - Prince’s ‘Cream’ as an encore and Public Enemy’s ‘Bring The Noise’ in an old school mashup competition against supporting hip hop swingsters, The Anomalies.

Dan Le Sac Vs Scroobius Pip are not just a band. They are sent messengers, harbingers of computerised enlightenment. All hail the faces of DLS Vs SP.

Feist

If ballads were to take the form of liquid then the alt-folk fluidity seen washing over Feist’s audience recently could have filled an entire ocean. The experience was so aquatic in its inclination that the mermaid queen herself, Leslie Feist, covered her protruding tail with a floating black dress and an oversized whale of a guitar.

A packed out, and largely female, Shepherd’s Bush Empire had readied itself for the delicate siren by setting all phones to silent. Cast adrift somewhere between Kate Bush, Cat Power and Joni Mitchell, her fragile voice could only be sustained through the attentive gaze of the many.

Standing alone and shoeless beneath a shimmering disco ball, she commenced the underwater dream sequence with a shy quartet of slow numbers. Every time she surfaced for air, she constructed the swirling currents of ‘Honey Honey’ by layering repetitive loops of echoing wails. Steadily, she became enamoured with her sigh-heaving admirers and gliding into the uptempo beat of ‘Mushaboom’ she had them calling back to her in unison (had she not, the solo cascades of tender vibrato would surely have drowned in a sea of their own sameness).

The arrival of the highly adept and multifaceted band was therefore a grateful addition of pace. Combining brass, drums and a brace of piano, their wave of jazz created movement in the stream and despite a brief foray into seemingly ill-calculated blues, the crowd’s awe never faltered. Indeed, it was following the badass tale of ‘When I Was A Young Girl’ that the Canadian received her most convincing appreciation.

The whooping, hollering and open-mouth gaping continued after popular favourites ‘I Feel It All’, ‘My Man My Moon’ and cool-enough-for-Apple’s-latest-ad-campaign ‘1234’ were released. The similarity of these tracks to one another, and all three’s pressence on her latest album, highlighted the onlookers’ fishbowl forgetfulness. Although they sound the same, they’re actually different – a blissful disregard of the album’s ironic title, The Reminder.

However, if the hungry sharks circling the show were still too unimpressed to bite, they didn’t escape the net of gimmicks that she threw out throughout her performance: cover versions of songs by Sarah Harmer and fellow Broken Social Scenester, Kevin Drew; a four-part harmony involving all four floors of the “insane” Empire building; and a piano-playing marriage proposer that completely upstaged poor Feist, hook, line and sinker.

Tony Wright (Terrorvision)

Tony Wright was quite literally ‘between a rock and a hard place’ when we spoke recently - he’d just finished building a wall and was about to head off to his karate lesson. “I became the National Champion last year for my belt. I’m only a blue belt at the moment but I were a green belt when I won it. And me lad, he won the under 10s National Championships for the same belt as well.”

Nine years ago ‘Tequila’ made the ex-Terrorvision frontman happy. These days martial arts, dry stone walling and his new musical project, Laikadog, are more likely to make him feel fine. By becoming a professional waller after Terrorvision split up, Wright not only found a fulfilling way to earn a crust but also discovered a fresh musical direction. “We’ve done two albums now with Laikadog and I’m always inspired by the stuff around me. I must admit when I were in London I was aware of the fact that I was uninspired. If you only ever get up at two in the afternoon and hit the bottle sometimes you miss a lot of it so it were good to get up on tut moor. It were good to meet real people that didn’t have egos and get some hard work done, start grafting so you were tired at the end of the day.”

The moor in question was in Yorkshire and whilst working atop those blustery hills Wright chanced upon Paddy, a bass guitarist with a similar affinity for music. Within weeks they had created Laikadog, a “very bluesy” collective that was “less straight forward rock and slightly more rock & roll”.

The name derives from the famously doomed space-hound and Wright likens the band to the unfortunate canine. “We were about as clued up as a dog in a rocket. The dog didn’t know what any of the buttons were doing and it were floating around in outer space, not knowing which direction, not knowing what were gunna happen next. That’s pretty much us still to this day”. Despite this connection Wright displays nothing but admiration for his Laikadog bandmates. “Six months before I met Paddy I was sat at the Q Awards with a Spice Girl. There were more talent on top of moor that day I were building dry stone wall than there was sat at me table at the Q Awards, and I just thought ‘this is not what I’m about’. I’m not really about celebrating something that just celebrates itself. I’d rather go out and celebrate what it is all about and play it. And so we formed a band and we got like a load of gigs.”

Known for his caustic sense of humour (he was a regular guest on Nevermind The Buzzcocks), Wright confesses to being bewildered by the industry’s love affair with “up-your-own-bum, miserable piano-based dirges – your Snowplays, your Cold Patrols, your James Blunt. We’re dropping bombs on Afghanistan and Iraq and then coming home to listen to some sqeaky mouse singing sixth form lyrics about being beautiful. I just do not get that whatsoever.”

Indeed, it seems that this disenchantment with the industry could have ultimately caused the death of Terrorvison in 2001. “We’d sort of done what we had to do, as far as making records was concerned. We’d said everything that we were going to say as four people because we’d been together for 14 years. That’s two seven year itches, that’s quite good. We weren’t the same people as we were when we started and you grow in different directions, don’t ya? We all had different things we wanted to do and we sorta said that’s Terrorvision run its course recording wise. To tell you the truth, I think a lot of bands should split up. There’s no point becoming a parady of yourself. Like flogging a dead horse. I mean, Terrorvision were never a dead horse but I think if we’d carried on then that might’ve been the case. We did our own thing, we always did. It slightly started to stain me views on things. It were like when we first started everybody around us had enthusiam. 95% of the people that we worked with and alongside had the same enthusiasm as we did. At the end we didn’t have that enthusiasm. I prefered working with the people who like rock and roll, they weren’t bothered by that side of things.”

Regardless of how Terrorvision were fated to split, Wright still rejoices the times spent with the band and also looks forward to the gigs they are set to play in the future. “Everything were brilliant because we got told all the time that we were wrong. Rock magazines at the start would say ‘You cant dance to heavy metal, you’ve got to just wear your leathers and shake your head’. The indie magazines would just say ‘You’re not indie, you are corporate rock whores’. There were all these people saying this and then one day we walked out on tut stage at Reading and there were 30,000 people singing along. They had no interest in making money out of Terrorvision, there was nothing but the fact that they liked what we did and we liked what they did, and that’s why we did it really. We often get together and do the odd gig, in fact we’re doing three this year. Now, it’s just going out and getting all them people that keep going ‘Ahh, do another gig, do another gig’. So it’s often like ‘Yeh, alright then’, but we have a right good party and there’s no pressure on us.”

Sara Berg

This year’s award for the Longest Album Title goes to Sweden’s Sara Berg for When I Was A Young Child I Used To Feel Pleasure From Playing With Others.

Turgid or what?

Nope, Berg certainly wont be lighting up the 2008 Mercury Prize hotline. And the cover art depicting her as Joan of Arc - pensively gazing off into some fantastical future where she alone heralds musical sovereignty - is rather ropey too. Yet, listen closely and there are some glacier-pure moments on this album.

In ‘Young Child’ Berg’s dark electropop is reminiscent of fellow Scandanavians, The Knife. Whilst the frenetic synth-beats of ‘Babies & Beautiful Things’ almost smells of ‘Blue Monday’, only to be skewed by Berg’s Dusty Springfield warble.

Like Ellen Allien, only not as German. And not as good.

Andrew Weatherall

When Soma Records served up their dark electro Sci.Fi.Hi.Fi collection there was much dilating of pupils and gnashing of teeth. With Sci.Fi.Lo.Fi – the clever Frasier to SFHF’s dumb Cheers - the knowing reach into the record bag of cool is an honour rightly bestowed upon Andrew Weatherall. Yes, Andrew Weatherall of Bjork, New Order and The Orb remix wizardry; he of Beth Orton and Primal Scream production sorcery; he of Kiss FM migrainery.

Yet, do not expect bucketsful of synth and showers of orgasmic beats because Weatherall has shunned the blinding lazers and finger-pointing techno whoop-whoop. This enticing new spin-off is strictly organic produce, and in parts is a little tainted.

The choicest cuts of exotic meat have been culled and dished up in a roughshod chronology. The vinyl-only entrance policy begins with a fallout of obscure 50s bebop as Joe Boot And The Fabulous Winds swoon over ‘Rock N Roll Radio’ and The Rebs keep pushing the horn and double bass throughout ‘Renegade’.

Psychodelic 60s rockabilly gets an airing in (great name alert) Hipbone Slim And The Knee Tremblers’ Bo Diddley–esque ‘Snake Pit’ and continues through into the classic ‘I Want Candy’ by the blues-thumping Strangeloves.

Killing Joke, Primal Scream, The Fall and T-Rex provide the rump of the album but the tastiest morsels are closer to the bone: The Cramps rambunctious ‘New Kind Of Kick’; the Tropics Of Cancer’s murmurred cloudy mambo jive interpretation ‘Upside Down’; and Shockheaded Peters’ chilling Human League-do-Bossa Nova ‘I Bloodbrother Be’.

It is this inner selection of Nick Cave post-punk bile, and the B-movie artwork that encases it, that should relieve Tarantino of all sleepless nights spent worrying about his next movie soundtrack.

Overall, an eclectic blend that will end those Now That’s What I Call Music Xmas gifts you receive from clueless family.

Black Ghosts

Frightening fact (1): ex-Simian Simon Lord watched Hammer Horror movies from an early age and resided next to cemetery in a house plagued by poltergeist activity and pagan imagery.

Frightening fact (2): ex-Wiseguy Theo Keating’s Dad invented the Bio Activity Translator, a musical device that produced a low electrical hum when fastened to plant stems. Obviously, an odd pairing, so is it any surprise that together they create sinister pop noir?

The Black Ghosts’ ‘Some Way Through This’ is a ballad with a macabre twist - it provides a flagrant portal to the dingier parts of love’s psyche. Floating atop a trembling spine of Portishead orchestral strings, this louche requiem is hauntingly melodramatic – “If this house was on fire would you tell me your desire, if my hands were round your throat would you tell me what I need to know”.

With the addition of a few dark remixes and a video containing prostitution, theft, suicide and murder (acted out by stop-animation Lego) this single is implicitly disturbing. It’s like Tricky and Hot Chip meeting in the dead of night to make love on the grave stones of their former lovers - David Bowie, Datarock and Tiefschwarz.

Gallows

Riding the acclaim of their recent Orchestra Of Wolves album, ‘In The Belly Of A Shark’ is set continue Gallows’ pandemic success, capping it with a frightening air of British hostility.

Taking to the ears with a V8 engine of bass, it hurtles across the plains of Testosterone Valley at speeds far exceeding anything Johnny Cash ever mustered. It screams headlong toward a mountain of jealous introversion (the Shark), a dark and lonely place somewhere on the psyche’s dusty horizon (note: this isn’t a song about the actual innards of a shark).

At the helm of this incensed vehicle is the man-beast himself, singer/shouter Frank Carter. Charging down the shark, Carter screeches over blind rises of pounding drums, rounding corners paved with old-school punk and skidding through hairpins greased wth metal ferocity. Gased up on the blues-drenched funk riffs of Jet and The Films, and taking disorientating directions from Helmet and Grinderman, the peddle goes fully to the nose-bleeding metal with the help of some Sick Of It All and Ligthning Bolt frantic antics.

This abrasive steel-on-steel juggernaught is the best thing to come out of Watford since the Metropolitan fast train to Moorgate. Just be careful it doesn’t run you over.

Nate James

In 2005 Nate James was nominated for two MOBO awards. In 2006 he won the Best International Act at the Italian Festivalbar. In 2007 he released his second album, Kingdom Falls, on his Frofunk label. Base recently caught up with the electro-funk-soul star for a retrospective chat.

What have you been upto today?
I’ve been down the gym because I’ve a video shoot on Wednesday so I wanted to make sure I’m trimmed and toned and ready for the enslaught of the cameras. This is the video for High Times.

What does the video entail?
The concept of the video is basically a day in the life of me going from when I wake up to literally when I go on stage an perform. Basically having a camera strapped to my waist which is going to film me, head and shoulders, in various locations all around London. Which I think will suit the song. I’m really looking forward to it. It’ll be good to do a video in London.

Did you choose particular venues and locations in London that are special to you?
Yeh, I’m 27 so I like to go out and have a good time so there’s a lot of my regular haunts like Brick Lane, Camden, Shoreditch, Hoxton Square. Just the sort of places that I love about London. Obviously the sort of the touristy things as well like the Bullet and the some really good views from up high with me performing on roofs. So I had a lot of input into where we were going to film.

Your album has been out for a few months now, can you tell me a little bit about it:
It’s the first album I’ve released on my own label, which proving to be a very interesting experience itself. It’s great, I work with a good mix of producers and song writers that I’ve worked with before and a few people I’ve met through MySpace. I love the new album, it’s very me. My influences range through Massive Attack and Level 42 to Soul2Soul and D’Angelo and so on. I’ve tried to encorporate all my influences - whether it be D&B, dance, house, soul – into this album. It’s soul music with a twist. I’m really pleased with the outcome and the response to it so far it fantastic so I’m really happy.

It does have quite an eclectic range, it’s R&B, it’s electro, it’s soul, it’s jazzy, how do you describe it?
I just say experimental soul. It’s just soul with a little bit of a difference, a bit of spice. The thing is there’s Lemar and Craig David and I love what those guys do and I think they’ve got great voices but I find them very safe with their music, and I don’t mean that as an insult, they do the music that will sell to masses, it’s very nice and very sweet. I don’t want to sound righteous but I want to be distinguished as a new soul guy. They’re already doing that thing, it’s already been done, I’d rather do something a bit fresher, a bit different.

Do you think your music has evolved over your two albums?
As evolved as it can be over two albums. If I was the likes of Michael Jackson or Stevie Wonder, fifteen albums downt he track, it would be obviously a lot more noticeable. The first album was made with the intention of it being very reminscent of the Motown vibe. With this new album there’s no restriction for me because I financed it myself. I wanted to make an album that shows of me as a character and my different tastes in music. I think people have cottoned on to the fact that I’m a funky, excentric kind of guy and I think that comes through on the album.

Has that got anything to do with the fact that you’re half American and half British?
My Mum and Dad are very much into their soul music. I think the more eclectic ravers that I’ve found I liked are more from me just growing up. Looking at the music that’s been in the UK over the past 10-15 years there’s some amazing acts that you wouldn’t necessarily liken to soul or expect someone who loves soul music to actually appreciate but I do love everything from Coldplay and Linkin Park and Jamie Lavelle, the more sort of quirky artists that do things a bit differently.

Who are you listening to at the moment?
Ben Westbeach is in my iPod a lot at the moment. He’s wicked. He’s such a wicked guy and his whole vibe of just blending different flavours. He comes from a very D&B background and it’s very apparent on the album and it’s got some sort of Jamiroquai twist to it as well which I really like. Again, it’s a fresh sound, it’s something different.

Have you got any musical guilty pleasures?
I don’t sit in my house and listen to opera or anything like that. I’m quite random. If you were come to my house for dinner and you’d say “Nate, what the hell are you listening to?” “Ah, I got this CD in Japan. It’s Brazilian Boss Beat this, that and the other” “Oh, ok.” I’ve got mixed flavours, what can I say?

The last twelve months have been fairly big for you, talk me through some of the highs and lows.
The main low of the industry and doing it yourself and independently is the finance aspect. Don’t get me wrong, all the cheques come in and life is good but by the same token you have to watch what you’re doing very carefully because you could end up screwed basically. That business side of things detracts from what I love doing which is making the music and performing. That annoys me a little bit. But as far as highs go I’ve performed with Erykah Badu, Snoop Dogg, I’ve won awards in Europe for Best International artist, nominated for MOBOs and got my second album out. The highs, by far, outweigh the lows. I love what I do, it’s a dream come true.

You’re on the soundtrack for the new movie by David Schwimmer, aren’t you?
I couldn’t believe it, it was hilarious. My manager phoned me and said “You know Shaun Of The Dead? Well the guy who directed that is working with David Schwimmer and they’re making a feature film together called Run Fatboy Run and your tune is in it”. I was like “Naaaah”. I love what I do and I don’t see myself as a massive artist, this to me is a hobby, I love doing it. It’s fun, it’s enjoyment, I don’t really expect to get a lot out of it, it’s just me making music and doing what I love. So when things like this happen it’s like “Oh yeh, by the way, this big Hollywood movie is using your song” I ask why me? It’s a nice feeling. I’m a massive Friends fan so I’m hoping that Dave might drop me a line to say “Yo, love the album” but I doubt that’ll happen.

You’re very big in Europe and the Far East, how do you cope with that kind of fame?
It’s different. It’s kind of nice but it’s overbearing. For example I went to the Brick Lane festival yesterday and I had some beers with some mates and some people were like “Oh, I love your tunes” but the British are very conservative, they don’t say anything silly. They’re very down on the level whereas the Japanese, and the Italians especially, because I’m viewed as a superstar over there as in the likes of Rhianna and Lily Allen. It’s just like “AAHH, there’s Nate James”. It’s mad. It’s very bizarre. There’s nothing that can prepare you for that kind of reaction. I write tunes and I love what I do but nothing could ever prepare me for winning awards and fans downstairs in the lobby when I come down for breakfast looking quite crusty because I’ve had no sleep and want an autograph and a picture and I’m like “Are you serious? Look at the state of me”. It’s cool though. But sometimes I just want to chill out and be myself. It’s a cross to bear and it comes with the job.

You’ve got some interesting gigs coming up. The Bedford Bandstand event at the O2’s Indigo and then also the Royal Festival Hall. Tell me about those two.
The Royal Festival Hall is something for the police. It’s like a massive awards thing they do and they asked me to do a performance. So that’s cool. I love being onstage, I could be onstage in the basement of some shoddy house, I don’t care. As long as I’m with my boys and we’re performing it’s all good. I’m looking forward to the Indigo, that’s going to awesome. I went to see Prince the other week and went to after party and just watched this master at work. The Indigo rooms is such a cool little venue, so I’m very excited about that.

Have you got any collaborations lined up for the future?
It’s difficult especially with the artists I want to work with because I don’t really aim low. It’s difficult with people’s schedules because they’re so intense and everyone is left right here there and everywhere. I’m doing a show with Musiq Soulchild and Ginuwine on the 12th October and I’ve been a fan of Musiq for a while. The neo-soul boys there’s the cool cats and the safes.

What’s the best thing about Suffolk?
The atmosphere. It’s a peace haven for me. It’s just so quiet. A walk along the river is a real place to gather your thoughts and come back to normality and just chill out.

If I had your latest album on an MP3, what would be the best activity or situation to compliment your album?
From the start going through to the end, my album is a getting-ready-to-go-out kind of album. At the start you’ve got the more funky, uptempo vibe to get you hyped, to get you excited. Then you go out, you have a dance, you have a few drinks. Then you pull, then you take them home. The second half of the album is your real kind of smoochy soul-soul and then the last song is Therapy which is about a marriage break-up so maybe DON’T GET TO TRACK TWELVE! Just play the uptempo to get you vibed, the mid-tempo to get you laid, and then turn it off. Stop at track twelve or thirteen, don’t get to the therapy one. It’s a great tune but not appropriate for when you’re laying beside a girl.

Jamie Cullum Vs Roni Size

There comes a time in every professional’s career when it is required that you ‘take one for the team’ and do something truly awful that noone else can do. Gig reviewing is not necessarily an exception to this rule. On paper, a head-crunching, heart-palpatating Roni Size D&B demolition seems like the perfect justification for dusting off the old puffer jacket. But hang on, what’s this scribbled on the billing? Is it some kind twisted celebrity death match joke? Jamie Cullum? Supported BY Roni Size? Huh?

Yes, it’s true. This is possibly the weirdest coupling to be seen since Cullum and supermodel girlfriend Sophie Dahl, perhaps. Jim must’ve fixed it for Jamie to go head to head with Roni when he saw the elf-boy win a 2004 MOBO award, granting him the credentials to hang with the right homies.

This would normally be the point at which Roni Size would get an exemplary report and the shaggy haired, self-taught, platinum-selling Munchkin would get a slagging off. But (a) Roni only played for 25 minutes and thus didn’t really get the engine turned over properly, and (b) get this, Jamie Cullum was actually pretty good. Some might even go so far as to say great.

Fans of Cullum - most likely the plethora of civilised, wine-quaffing, groomed ladies in the audience, clearly not there to see Mr Size - were probably very disappointed when Cullum and his guest star – brother and bassist Ben Cullum – launched into a set that can only be described as dance music.

Their fidgety, techno jazz and space disco funk utilised cowbells, Ibiza pianos, looping beat machines, adventurous beatboxing and the quintessential solid bass. This free-spirited approach to dance was nailed down properly during a 20-minute improvised jam that included the electronic sax distortion of MOBO-nominee (and previous winner) Soweto Kinch and the trumpeting retaliation of Rory Simmons.

when Kinch asked the crowd to shout out four adjectives to describe the spectacle before them (to use in a freestyle rhyme), they proffered. ‘Mind-blowing’, ‘eclectic’, ‘heavy’ and ‘rocking’.

The slightly stunned audience was taken on a veritable journey through sound, stopping off at stations marked Groove Armada, Battles, Crazy P, Stereo MCs, Level 42, A Tribe Called Quest, The Chemical Brothers, Roy Budd’s Get Carter soundtrack and Soul Central’s ‘Strings Of Life’. The journey terminated with a smooth rendition of the Bodyrox club anthem ‘Yeah Yeah’.

The only blemish on an otherwise stellar performance was Cullum’s unsuitable Frank Sinatra cadence. Although he’s primarily a jazz musician, Cullum’s obvious technical ability and tapestry of musical influences could see him a regular crossover artist in the dance pages of base magazine.

The Morgan Arms

43 Morgan Street
Bow E3 5AA

Pete Doherty won an award in 2005. And rightly so. Not by himself, mind. He had a bit of help from ‘them other fellas’ in the band (The Libertines). Doherty, and them other fellas, snapped up the Best British Band prize at the NME Awards. Everyone was apoplectic as a result, falling over themselves to get a piece of this deity-in-making.

That same year, the public went congratulatory crimson for Morgan Freeman when he won the Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his performance as Eddie ‘Scrap-Iron’ Dupris in Million Dollar Baby. There followed a modicum of star-stupefaction.

Winning was synominous with the ‘Morgan’ moniker that year as The Morgan Arms of Bow was given a hearty slapping of the back for winning the prestigious Evening Standard Pub of the Year award.

Press the fast forward button on our time remote and it’s hard to deny that the scenario looks somewhat shoddier for most involved:
- Exhibit (a) - Misdemeanour Pete, as talented as he may be, has taken up semi-permanent residence in the dock of his local courthouse. Added to this are the woes he endured during his horrendously media-scrutinised (and thus bound to fail) relationship with Ms Moss, which has since done a Dodo
- Exhibit (b) Morgan Freeman almost recently suffered a similar Dodo-esque career malfunction when he chose (was forced) to play God in the box office hit *cough, splutter* Evan Almighty. Oh dear, thank God for The Shawshank Redemption, eh Morgan?
- Exhibit (c) The Morgan Arms lost its Evening Standard crown in 2006 to a worthy challenger, The Clarence pub of Balham.

How the mighty have fallen. Or so you’d think.

Not content with a paltry London paper accolade, The Morgan’s owners, Geronimo, rode that pony to even greater heights and in 2007 claimed the industry’s best (The Publican’s) Small Pub Company Award. Clearly, this is no Dodo.

The popularity of Geronimo’s pub-restaurant-pub fusion is explicitly seen in The Morgan Arms’ bums-on-seats Monday custom, the likes of which is usually seen on a Friday elsewhere.

A moreish draw that gets them through the door is the newspaper-wrapped devilled whitebait, a simple delight that compliments a draught of Aspall’s Cyder or Timothy Taylor Ale. But there’s more to The Arms than mere starters and pints.

It resonates ‘cool’ through a Blur/White Stripes/Imogen Heap music selection. There’s a unstoppable urge to say ‘mismatched’ when describing the butchers-and-boardrooms furniture. And, the ‘wall of books’ feature in the restaurant gives off that endearing daytime studio set/Lorraine Kelly appeal.

Geronimo clearly like to think BIG as well. BIG windows equal big light. BIG sofas equal big comfort. And BIG art equals big unsettling scary eyes peering down at you as you nibble your grilled sea trout on aubergine-chickpea-tomato salad, swilled down with the lemony South Australian Viognier. Just don’t ask for the cheesecake, BIG is not the word.

In fact, the menu may appear simple and diminutive at first - lamb, steak, cod - but with the addition of words such as ‘walnut pesto’, ‘tarragon cream’ and ‘honey yoghurt dressing’ the menu gets its BIG.

The prices are BIG as well, especially as the carbs are sold separately. But this is a gentrified residential area, so the effect is not an important one. Hence, the only likely noise pollution to be weathered on the street seating outside is the occasional roar of passing Range Rover.

A comeback of kings. Otherwise 8 out of 10