Jarvis Cocker: Sorted For Trees and Weeds
Ben Thompson, Independent, The, October 2001
AMID THE RUMPLED grandeur of West London's Cobden Club, the familiar angular figure of Jarvis Cocker stands out like a sore index finger. His sartorial signature of autumnal tweed might have acquired a more opulent, less scratchy look over the years, but Jarvis still exudes the same lankly raffish charm as he did a decade ago, when the crowds first began to sit up and take notice.
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