The neighborhood corner Aussie gem, Five Leaves has much to recommend it (a brilliant chicken sandwich, pavlova, muesli, gravlax, and excellent coffee to name a few) but aside from the food and an affable staff, there’s always good tunes playing. I am usually familiar with what their spinning, and sometimes pleasantly surprised (True Stories by Talking Heads is woefully forgotten and underplayed). This morning though, a music I was thoroughly enjoying was unknown to me. It ended up being a one Clutchy Hopkins, a man whose very identity in in question and the stuff of mystery and legend.
Considered a dj, his music is an amalgamation of styles and sounds and as far from the monotonous stuff that inspires squatting, hoola hooping in McCarren Park (anyone else privy to that display Saturday?) that I usually associate with the term “dj”.
The album is self produced and likely to become the soundtrack to the rest of my summer. Very lovely stuff.