FTSE

POST PUNK HIP POP   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.   So why so sad? We're not sure. Things seem to be going his way. He's mates with TEED, he recently supported AlunaGeorge, he's remixed MØ, and he has collaborated with the likes of Kenzie May, Bipolar Sunshine and Saint Saviour. Maybe he's just clever and realised there's a market for murkily melodic post-dubstep and minimalist, spacious electro-soul sung-spoken by a sorrowful solipsist.   There are two FTSE EPs to collect - one already released, the second due in a month. By then the autumnal melan-tronics will probably make more sense. FTSE 1 features Tidal Wave, on which Manville has to "psych myself up just to go outside" and wonders, "Why is everyone so f**kin' happy?" So Much Shine is a showcase for reverb and xx-esque guitars while Float finds Manville duetting with Kenzie May like a Marvin and Tammi for the psychogeographic nightbus set. On Consoom you get glimpses, in the guitar slashes, of Manville the former hardcore rocker. FTSE II is a refinement of his ideas. On St Tropez his voice is lightly Auto-tuned and the music is darkly lush - very Drake, and a potential hit. Brave New Wurld, too, mixes beat science with emotion, dubby effects with dolour ("I don't think I can ever smile again"). Lost In Translation captures Manville and May in that bewilderzone between work and the hedonism of the weekend ("Never again... I just gotta get some sleep and I'll be fine"). EP closer Kode apparently began as a jam with AlunaGeorge's George Reid and has, between the faux vinyl crackles and cracking snares, enough poppy succulence to chart. You might even want to buy shares.   The buzz: "The combination of meaningful vocals with dancey electronic beats wins me over every time."   The truth: He's Jarvis goes geekstep.   Most likely to: Take stock.   Least likely to: Work for the Stock Exchange.