London: Sometime in the earlier years of Archy Marshall’s media coverage, rumours spread that his stage name, King Krule, came from King K. Rool, the villain in a Donkey Kong video game. In fact, it comes from the film King Creole, starring Elvis Presley as a struggling singer in New Orleans, avoiding the temptations of a life of crime. Like the romanticisation that fuels any good fictional character, King Krule the public persona has always had a layered relationship to the truth. Teetering between a natural openness and concern for the privacy of his loved ones, Archy avoids interviews as best he can. But following the release of his newest album, Space Heavy, he agreed to this story about his transient relationship to homely comforts. His show this year at London’s Institute of Contemporary Arts was packed to the brim, tickets so coveted that his management received death threats. Conversely, he spent last Christmas in a motel on his own with a Snickers bar for dinner. Having only met Archy in passing at parties, deciphering what attributes of his are King Krule the character and which are Archy Marshall the artist and father is not obvious. Because Frank is a long-time collaborator of his, he spends the day with us, and we play with truths and lies. Over the past few years, Archy has moved a few times. Not long ago, he traded the small flat near Liverpool where he first moved to be closer to his daughter, Marina, for a one bedroom in London. On the triangular balcony of his new place, he’s getting a haircut, and ginger clippings collect on his shoulders. The balcony is too small and oddly shaped for me to stand with them. He and the barber, both from South London, chat about magazines. Neither of them have heard of Apartamento. On interior design, the barber says: ‘There are a lot of people who curate their houses, but they haven’t curated their minds’. Archy likes that thought. I can’t really hear.