Stumbling upon a cobbled, ivy-strewn alleyway in Hoxton's concrete jungle is surprise number one. Finding in this alleyway a friendly, underdressed-for-Shoreditch crowd grooving to everything from Scottish folk to pre-Killers-indie to 60s garage in a bar with all the scuzzy charm of your slippers is surprise number two. Discovering that this den has the kudos of an adjoining sound studio without an adjoining posse of posers is surprise number three. Sick of us spoiling surprises for you? Get down there then.