Archy Marshall looks like he hasn’t slept since 2011. That’s always been part of the charm, right? When he released The Ooz in 2017, the indie world sort of collectively held its breath because we didn't know if he was going to lean into the jazz-fusion of his debut or just descend into total basement-dwelling noise. What we got was a 19-track, sprawling, messy, brilliant monster of an album that basically redefined what South London sounds like when the sun goes down. It’s been years, and honestly, nothing else has come close to capturing that specific feeling of being stuck in a humid, cigarette-smoke-filled room while the world outside slowly dissolves.
It’s a long record. It’s sixty-six minutes of grit.
Most people approach The Ooz King Krule style—which is to say, they expect a certain level of "London Zoo" energy—but they aren't prepared for how deep the literal "ooze" goes. Marshall, who was only 23 when this dropped, managed to create a sonic landscape that feels like it’s physically leaking out of the speakers. It’s not just music; it’s a biological byproduct of living in a city that’s too expensive, too gray, and too crowded.
The Sound of Blue and Gray
The album opens with "Biscuit Town," and immediately, you’re hit with this muffled, underwater production. It sounds like Archy is rapping from the bottom of a well. This isn't accidental. Along with his frequent collaborator Dilip Harris, Marshall spent ages trying to find a sound that felt "submerged."
If you listen to the guitar work on tracks like "The Locomotive," it’s jagged. It’s sharp. It’s got that classic King Krule "twang" that feels like it’s being played on rusty strings found in a dumpster. But then, it shifts. Suddenly, you’re in "Dum Surfer," which is arguably the "hit" of the album, though it sounds more like a zombie surf-rock anthem than anything you'd hear on Top 40 radio. The saxophones are screaming. The bass is thick and muddy. It’s basically the sound of a fever dream after a night of drinking too much cheap cider.
The Ooz doesn't care about your attention span. It wants you to get lost.
Why the Lyrics Feel Like a Fever Dream
Archy’s lyricism has always been dense, but on The Ooz, he went full beat-poet. He’s obsessed with secretions. Sweat, snot, tears, the "ooze" of human existence. It sounds gross when you say it out loud, but in the context of the music, it’s strangely romantic. He’s talking about the stuff we leave behind. The physical traces of our presence in a world that is constantly trying to scrub us out.
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On "Slush Puppy," he moans about being "nothing but a soul in a bin." It’s self-deprecating, sure, but there’s a genuine existential weight to it. He isn't just being a moody teenager; he’s documenting a specific kind of urban isolation. You can feel the influence of writers like Charles Bukowski or even the bleakness of Samuel Beckett in the way he loops phrases until they lose all meaning.
The Jazz Influence Most People Miss
While everyone calls this "indie" or "post-punk," The Ooz is secretly a jazz record. Or at least, it’s jazz seen through the lens of a kid who grew up on J Dilla and The Pixies.
The chord progressions are complex. Archy uses these suspended chords and dissonant intervals that shouldn't work in a "rock" context, but somehow they do. His brother, Jack Marshall, who does the artwork, is a huge part of this aesthetic too. The visual and the sonic are tied together—messy, colorful, but deeply dark.
If you look at the track "Cadet Limbo," the saxophone isn't just a backing instrument. It’s a lead voice. It’s wandering, searching for a melody that never quite arrives. That’s the "limbo" part. It’s the feeling of being in your early twenties and having no idea where you’re going, but having a lot of very loud feelings about it.
The Production Was a Nightmare (In a Good Way)
Recording this album wasn't a straightforward process. Archy has talked in interviews about how he struggled with "the weight" of the follow-up to 6 Feet Beneath the Moon. He recorded parts of it in his own room, parts of it in professional studios, and parts of it seemingly into a dictaphone while walking down the street.
This creates a weird spatial awareness for the listener. One minute you’re in a high-fidelity studio space, and the next, you’re listening to something that sounds like it was recorded through a tin can.
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- The Tape Saturation: They used a lot of analog gear to get that warm, slightly distorted hiss.
- The Vocal Layers: Archy often layers his voice so it sounds like he’s arguing with himself.
- The Found Sounds: Rain, footsteps, muffled conversations in the background.
It creates a world. You don't just "listen" to The Ooz King Krule made; you inhabit it. It’s a 3D space.
Misconceptions About the "Ooze"
Some critics at the time thought the album was too long. They said it needed an editor. They were wrong. The length is the point. If you cut the ambient tracks like "Bermondsey Bosom" (both the Left and Right versions), you lose the connective tissue. You lose the feeling of drifting.
This isn't an album for the "single" era. It’s an album for the people who want to put on headphones and disappear for an hour. It’s "slow cinema" in musical form.
Another misconception is that Archy is just "sad." It’s not sadness. It’s melancholy, which is different. There’s a beauty in the decay he describes. When he sings about the "Spanish Towns" or the "Midnight 01 (Deep Sea Diver)," he’s looking for escape. He’s looking for a way to get out of his own head. The ocean is a recurring theme—the idea of sinking, of being crushed by pressure, but also of being weightless.
How The Ooz Changed Indie Music
Before this record, "indie" was getting a bit polite. It was all clean guitars and bright synths. King Krule came in and made everything dirty again. You can see his influence in a ton of artists today—from the more experimental side of the UK jazz scene to the "sad boy" rappers who use jazz samples.
He gave people permission to be ugly.
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The record feels timeless because it doesn't use 2017 tropes. There are no "of the moment" synth sounds or trendy drum patterns. It sounds like it could have come out in 1979 or 2035. That’s the mark of a classic.
What to Do if You’re Just Discovering Him
If you're new to the world of Archy Marshall, jumping straight into The Ooz might feel like jumping into a cold lake. It’s a lot. But that’s the best way to do it. Don't shuffle it. Don't skip.
- Find a dark room. Seriously. This is nighttime music.
- Use decent headphones. You’ll miss 40% of the album if you’re listening through phone speakers. There are layers of sub-bass and whispering that only come out with a good seal.
- Read the lyrics while you listen. "The Cadet Leaps" is basically a short story.
- Watch the "Dum Surfer" music video. It captures the visual aesthetic of the whole project perfectly.
The legacy of The Ooz is that it proved you could be experimental, weird, and deeply personal all at once and still reach a massive audience. It’s a uncompromising piece of art.
If you want to understand what it feels like to be young and lost in a city that doesn't care about you, this is the blueprint. There is no better guide than the King of Ooze himself.
To truly appreciate the depth of this work, go back and listen to the transition between "The Locomotive" and "Dum Surfer." Notice how the tension builds until it almost snaps, only to release into that swaggering, drunken groove. That is the essence of the record. It’s the tension of existing.
Stop looking for "hooks" and start looking for "textures." Once you stop trying to find a catchy chorus, the whole album opens up like a strange, dark flower.
Next Steps for the Listener:
- Listen to "Live on the Moon": This is a live session Archy did that features many tracks from The Ooz. It’s stripped back and shows just how tight his band actually is.
- Explore the "A New Place 2 Drown" Book: If you want more of the visual "ooze," this book (and accompanying soundtrack under his real name) provides the context for his South London world.
- Compare with "Alone in Deep Space": Check out his earlier work as Zoo Kid to see the raw materials before they were melted down into the sound of this album.