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Can you hear me OK? http://madthumbs.fun madthumbs.com One sees evidence of that naïve quality at The Lost Marble Dept., which turns out to be a terraced house in an unfashionable corner of North London (it shares its name with Bates’s record company Lost Marble). Bates appears at the door, bits of blonde hair peeking out from under his trademark woolly hat, and leads me into his pleasantly chaotic house. There are piles of books and CDs everywhere, and the sound of builders somewhere up above. It’s not long before Bates offers me tea, and tells me I’m allowed to put it down on an eccentric little wooden table. “I made that when I was a kid,” he says, and gestures around at one or two other pieces of brightly coloured woodwork, pinned to the wall. Bates has a engaging way of musing over each statement, gazing at a spot somewhere near his feet. Every now and then a smile irradiates his lean face, when he recalls something amusing.

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