My mate Conor, notable for having tattoos in odd places and a playlist for every occasion, turned me on to Slow Club on one of his many musical crusades. Reading a Facebook update about how listening to Elliott Smith wasn’t helping me plunge into a Monday morning, he sent me a link to a so-catchy-it-should-be-outlawed song called Because We’re Dead, and stood well back. Just as well, too, because I didn’t just fall in love with Slow Club - I plummeted, breaking several preconceptions and at least one coffee mug. Slow Club are Charles and Rebecca. He plays guitar and sings. She plays a chair and sings. Yes, I said a chair, and glass bottles too (though she supplements, on occasion, with a proper drumkit). The boy guitarist/girl percussionist set-up has lead to some comparison with The White Stripes, which is like equating Led Zeppelin to The Monkees. No greasy … There’s more →