BEEN

BEEN

well, this is the thing…” Tom Vek inhales, and soon you’ll know why.
It’s been six years, one month and two days since he

released debut album ‘We Have Sound’; half a decade since he ducked out of the limelight and became

experimental pop music’s yeti – a near myth; a figment of our imaginations; a bespeckled

cult figure who vanished from the grid completely.

By rights – and all probability – we should all be thinking
‘Tom who?’.

In his absence we’ve been given Spotify, Twitter, Facebook, Bandcamp and Soundcloud, all of

which have duly plied us with tomorrow’s stars yesterday.

We’ve been fed Rhianna, Leona Lewis, Arctic Monkeys,
Klaxons, The xx, Adele, Amy

Winehouse. It goes on and on. But we’ve never forgotten about Tom Vek. We still listen to ‘We Have Sound’.

Last we saw him he didn’t look like a 1960s advertising executive, but, then, Mad Men is another phenomenon

that’s come our way since Vek went rouge; the whole HBO Revolution is. It was a glossy US TV show that

gave him his curtain call though – he performed – rather ironically – ‘I Ain’ t Saying My Goodbyes’ on the original

indie-astute teen soap The OC, in front of impossibly good looking people like Mischa Barton and Adam Brody.

Today he arrives like Jon Hamm on dress-downFriday – Brylcreem’d and clean-shaven, in brown brogue

boots, turned up semi-jeans and a plain white T-shirt. Fittingly, it is the final day of the working week, and the

high apartment where we meet happens to also peer
into London’s executive core: The City.

Tom is alone, although that’s not something that we should be too surprised about. He is, after all, a solo

artist, and one that relishes being just that, performing under his own name rather than a moniker that sounds

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