London. Hot. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat. Everyone should thank their lucky stars that we’re currently treating abnormally-long tshirts from Topman (H&M got a look-in as well this weekend, given its right bloody next to Topman in Brent Cross’ a-lot-bigger-than-we-originally-thought shopping centre) in the same way as we used to Atticus Clothing back in the proverbial day. In that we are buying fucking loads of them. At least 6 of them. Different colours and lengths – indeed our colour choices have caused a degree of controversy with The Finn already as allegedly burgundy is only to be worn during Autumn months – and to a certain extent rather unflattering toward our 30-something love handles and indeed beer belly that we’ve been steadily cultivating for the past 18 months or so. But fucking hell, they’re comfortable and we figure if we are going to wear effectively the same thing every day we might as well not wear precisely the same one to stink up the tube any more than is apparently already necessary. Other than basking in our own basic fashion sense and this sun, we’ve really just been plodding along attempting to spot the cracks ahead of time in preparation for Reading Festival this weekend, and lubing up some deals here and there. It is all very music industry up in here; seems fitting that one of our music industry buddies (holla at ya boy Rob Turnham) slung this over our way at the precise point we were pondering writing something about how bloody long our tshirts are. This guy is called Fwar, which is what you’re supposed to say out loud when it is this hot, or think to yourself when you think someone else is that hot. Not sure where he’s from. We want to say Wales, but that could simply be because Huw Stephens gave Everybody its debut spin on the airwaves sometime yesterday, and also this guy’s voice reminds us of Gruff Rhys. It’s almost as if Super Furry Animals‘ world has been superimposed into that of Caribou, which leads us to an entirely new dimension of which we previously thought recent KM compilationee Owen Rabbit was the sole occupant. Guess we can be wrong pretty frequently, and not just due to our tshirt collection. The video is pretty trippy, and before anyone moans at “yet another contemporary dance” narrative, we’d like to point out the jolty bits that fit in rather well with the more emphatic parts of the rhythm throughout. So, like, there.