Hugo Manuel may be the only songwriter to snag his stage name from a UK toy company that started up during the Victorian era. But what’s even stranger is why the budding British electro guru copied that goofy title. His drawing on such an obscure reference had nothing to do with know-it-all pretentiousness. In fact, aside from using the name as his own, Manuel has no intention of paying homage to Chad Valley at all.

“I like things that conjure up feelings without actually having much meaning,” Manuel says of the plaything mimicking moniker he’s used on an endless tour, which reaches Beijing on Dec. 7 at the Temple Bar. “For some people Chad Valley reminds them of toys and thus childhood, and for some people it sounds like an American surfer jock's name. Some people assume it’s my real name. I like the ambiguity of it, but most of all I like the way it sounds.”

That description would be apt for the tunes on Manuel’s 2011 sophomore album, “Equatorial Ultravox.” It’s full of meandering melodies, and hypnotic rhythms. An equal vagueness has also drifted throughout much of his touring like a plume of fog.

He describes daily life on the road as a circular route- sitting in a van bound for the venue, playing in those dimly lit, windowless clubs until his manager ushers him to a worldwide chain hotel. If he’s lucky, Manuel might catch a whiff of the city’s street meat or a glimpse of its backdrop while rushing between air conditioned closed quarters.

“This was most true in America,” he says. “(That’s) strange because despite travelling huge distances all over the country, nothing really changes, and there is actually a lot of comfort in that.”

He seemed to mimic such cycles on ‘Equatorial Ultravox,”  from the loopy rattling drums on ‘Acker Bilk,’ to the chorus of simmering sighs on ‘Reach Lines.’ The biggest variable to break that cosiness is the audience. 

“I had this one amazing show in Sweden where there was a lot of dancing, and that apparently is very rare (there).”

But Manuel’s first travels were amongst the social avenues of his hometown, Oxford. His dingy blue collar neighbourhood sat west of a campus brimming with the elitist of academics. It was the first of his everyday contradictions- a routine ambiguity that’s run all the way into his current hazy rhythms. 

“There was some tension, for sure, we didn't really have any contact with university students. They keep to themselves, hidden away from the common folk of Oxford city. Having said that, the city is there mostly because of the university. It gives Oxford this great name that is recognised all over the world, and has also blessed us with a lot of amazing architecture and parks.”

Manuel went on to describe what his side of town offers.

“There is a great community of people in East Oxford… huge numbers of Indian and Middle Eastern immigrants, great food from all over the world, and great little cafes and quirky nooks and crannies. I think this is the side that people don't expect from Oxford, people who think that it is all just tea rooms and perfectly mown lawns.”

Maybe that’s what Chad Valley would look like if it were only a destination in Manuel’s mind. He has yet to visit the real life toy factory whose name he nicked for his own use. That would only be a journey to glimpse the making of play things- and even when Hugo Manuel’s at his most childish, he can’t help but be ambiguous.

“There is a lyric in (my song) ‘Acker Bilk’ about when I was a kid, going for a drive in my uncle's Porsche and being really sad that I couldn't enjoy it properly because I had a stomach ache, or something like that,” he says of the inspiration for his album’s most downbeat track. “Every time I feel regret or something like that I hark back to that memory.”

Check out the music video of "Now That I'm Real, How Does It Feel" before you head to Chad Valley's show at Temple Bar tonight (Dec 7). It's part of Split Works’s fifth anniversary. RMB 50. 9pm