“New rave is a fictitious scene,” begins Sam Duckworth, guiding light behind Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly. “It’s just a scrabbled together movement which, in fact, doesn’t communicate with people outside big cities.”

A warning, people: Sam’s got opinions and not afraid to use them.
Such honesty is a breath of fresh air at a time when most bands are busily minding their words for fear of giving offence. Then again, Duckworth has been a fan of music for far longer than he’s been making it. In his native Southend, he booked hardcore acts such as Hundred Reasons to play Chinnery’s, the English seaside town’s main live venue.
That was before he discovered he could play himself. Thus was born Get Cape..., an odd hybrid of bedroom electronica and folk, made distinctive by Duckworth’s raw vocals.
No sooner had he ventured out of his bedroom and onto the live circuit than Duckworth was being stuffed into pigeonholes – he’s been labelled ‘lad folk’ by Jonathan Ross and ‘precinct pop’ by Q.
“Marketing and press rely on new trends because it helps to push bands that don’t have longevity. Do you remember The Others and The Paddingtons? They were in and they were out,” he says. “You’ll always find that alongside your Muses and your Kaiser Chiefs: the real bands that transcend scenes because they don’t need fashion to make up for the fact that they don’t have any good songs!”
Rest assured, Duckworth’s music is straight from his heart. He’s a genuine blue collar troubadour, having supported himself with a day job in Halford’s, a mechanic’s store.
“I never liked the job, but you’re not supposed to,” he recalls. “It’s a job. A lot of the new art school bands come straight out of posh schools and think they know everything because they’ve bought a few books by French poets from the 18th century and looked at some paintings. I can appreciate those things, but I can also appreciate having to work six days a week to make ends meet. I didn’t do it for too long, but there were people there who had to do it to survive, and there’s equal beauty in their struggle as there is in a painting.”
One band he particularly spits venom at are The Horrors, who also hail from Southend.
“I do wonder if they know what the real world is like,” he says with curiosity rather than bitterness. “They came straight from art school and now they’ve got their little fashion parade going on – there’s no reality to it and it’s disconnected from their role as musicians."
He contrasts The Horrors’ shock-rock buzz with a less attention seeking band such as Elbow.
“They were never trendy but they’ve always worked hard and as a result people are playing them three albums in, whereas I wonder if we’ll even get to the first The Horrors record. Have they even written a song?” he laughs.
Ouch. Clearly not worried about bumping into them in the pub then.