Last week, Marshall played the Bowery Ballroom with his current band, made up of bass, guitar, and drums. He emerged in a suit jacket that looked three sizes too big, as most clothing does on him, and carrying a Fender Telecaster guitar. When playing it, he looked slightly hemmed in, as if he sensed that the band might be getting too close to a familiar entity. When he put down the guitar and just sang, gripping the microphone and doubling over as he yelled, the sound came into focus. He introduced each of the musicians in the band, as if it were a genuine jazz ensemble, but that’s not what has drawn people to King Krule. Though Marshall sounds as if he had stumbled into a recording studio by accident (and confesses that he likes many of his demos better than the final studio versions), he manages to be a confirmed, dedicated romantic. His voice curls around his lyrics as if he were disgusted with everything, but the words fight his delivery. In “Borderline,” which features one of his loveliest choruses over a swift series of chord changes, he sang, “And the soul chokes to cause the tide to enforce divide—this whole devotion has morphed in time. I’ll escort her mind to solve my crimes, reach slow motion to con the mind.”
more here.