A multi-award-winning experience of what it’s like to live in constant fear, from rookie Hungarian director László Nemes
Christophers, Ben : My beautiful demon
[B]Christophers[/B]' precarious vocal indicates that at least his feet aren't made of clay.
Christophers claims that pot-throwing is second nature to him, and even today he could make a bowl should the occasion demand it. Given the streaky, wobbly, wholly unfired strangeness of this single, however, you really wouldn't want to risk eating soup round at his house. For what initially appears to be every bit as
as the words 'Wolverhampton singer-songwriter' suggest - a title straight out of the civic centre poetry workshop, a tune like 'Street Spirit (Fade Out)' run through the earnestness
- soon escapes the last coffee house try-out spot before hell. This is largely due to the production of Faultline's estimable David Kosten, indulging his love of sparse avant-classical clattering in the background, but Christophers' precarious vocal indicates that at least his feet aren't made of clay.
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