Review: King Krule, Marble Factory

It’s clear that there is no trendier place to be than at Motion for King Krule. Walking into The Marble Factory is like stepping into a time warp where the fashion statements of the sixties to nineties have been thrown onto a pile and then distributed erratically among the crowd.

Despite a lengthy queue and sound-checks lasting until 8pm, an hour past opening, a large and enthusiastic crowd has gathered for support act, Steven Umoh’s, Obongjayar. Sounding like afrobeat smothered by an arthouse poetry evening and wearing the black turtleneck to match, you can see why he is the chosen opener to Krule. Describing his band as “the sound” Umoh blends jazz and poetry together with distinct raspy lyricism. His songs stand out the most when one of the blended styles is fully explored. Yet despite sounding raw and grating there is something euphoric and soothing when it all pulls together.

King Krule is the stage name for Archy Marshall and he’s stopping by off the back of two critically acclaimed albums. The latest, The OOZ was released just last month and you would expect there to be some sign of an ego, but none of it shows as he walks on. The lights illuminate the audience more frequently than they hit the stage and there is rarely a spotlight on Krule or his band, choosing instead to appear as silhouettes. He lets his music speak for itself. The set leads with roughed up renditions of Has This Hit? and Ceiling emphasising the punk and grunge elements of the impressive musical repertoire on show. Marshall sings like he’s gargled glass backstage and there is ferocity in his performance as he leads into Dum Surfer.

Krule’s music is influenced by so many genres and when heard live each one is epitomised. We get the punk of A Lizard State pushed against the crooning jazz of The OOZ. Each member of the supporting five-piece band are so accomplished that you barely even notice they are there until given a moment to shine, like the sultry, mellow saxophone ringing out in Baby Blue.

There’s no rush between songs here. Krule is happy to leave his audience waiting with minimal dialogue, but they eat up each word he does say, especially when he notes that he’s “got to play Bristol more often”. The set ends with Easy Easy, which is still firmly the favourite and Krule launches his guitar in a rowdy statement as he walks off stage. Returning for a single encore and earliest song, Out Getting Ribs, the gig ends, leaving us wanting more.

Krule’s live show feels as intimate as his album, his confused melancholy providing a glimpse of his mind. Even better at expressing his dissatisfaction and frustration in person, he leaves us wondering what’s next and we’re more than excited to find out.