Only a fool would float the idea now, in the middle of the hottest summer in recent memory, of a miserablist rap-singer with a deep, dark voice - not quite a viscous growl, more the dolorous tone of the endlessly rejected - intoning over twilit beats and wintry atmospherics. But we're nothing if not fans of musicians with scant concern for such proprieties as timing or even doing the right thing. 　　That said, Sam Manville, who is FTSE, isn't taking that imprudent a punt. His music is hardly Trout Mask Replica remixed by Gold Panda. No, it's club music - only the club is shut, there's a lock-in, it's 3am and the only people left are the bar staff and a bloke in the corner muttering dejectedly into his beer. That'll be Manville, who with his specs appeal is essentially Jarvis Cocker in Burial's body, or Drake if he came from the Midlands not Ontario.