The Franc Moody story is a Byzantine thread that runs from Wiltshire, via Tottenham and Soho, passes through Louisiana and onto LA, before alighting somewhere south of Kingston-Upon-Thames. Life is good for Jon Moody and Ned Franc. 
 
This duo, steeped in the gravelly realism of 1950s blues, jump and swing, sure know their Wynonie Harris’s from their Dave Bartholomews. They formed bands. Many, many bands. They lived in a warehouse in Tottenham for a few years with musicians of differing temperaments. Their membership of numerous bands mirrors the travails of Spinal Tap, except for the paucity of exploding drummers (their current tour drummer Dan, remains, thankfully thus far unexploded). “It just became very apparent that me and Ned had a different approach and wanted to split off,” asserts Jon. “We were the people making it happen.” And make it happen they did. 
 
After trying to be jazzers, bluesmen and various stripes of heritage Americana, thanks to Jon’s growing interest in the bottomless world of synthesisers, they decided to get contemporary. “We spent so long trying to desperately make a record that sounded like it was cut in 1952,” says Jon, “but I basically bought my first synthesiser, a Juno 60, and that led into a slightly more interesting path.” 
 
That path, which went via Norway, included listening to Todd Terje and Lindstrøm – so their new MO was simple, says Ned, “It was all about grooves; the onus would be to make people dance.” Their poky, ramshackle studio wouldn’t fit a drummer, so it was drum machines all the way (these days, they add the spice of live percussion and hi-hats over the top, for that extra swing). 
 
So this is a new album, a new label and, quite literally, a new start. After ploughing the same furrow for the past eight years, they’d reached an impasse where it felt that things had to change. 
 
Ned sums it up beautifully. “Life is really like a series of changes and you can either embrace it and step into the unknown full of heart and bravery and plough fresh new pastures or you can carry on doing the same thing and live a safer life – but maybe not with the colour and vivacity that you could have had you taken a bolder path.” 
 
This new path was energised by a couple of inspiring veteran live performances that demonstrated that it’s not about age or experience, but attitude. Watching LCD Soundsystem play live in LA last year and Massive Attack in 2024, helped give them a renewed sense of purpose. “They showed that delivering something can be more direct, poignant, digestible but also offers a little bit of edge.” 
 
They stripped back Franc Moody to its chassis, and rebuilt it up, with the aid of some wacky synthesisers courtesy of the Damon Albarn broom cupboard (the duo rent a studio space from the Blur maven). The result of this is Chewing The Fat, the latest album. A bit less disco, a bit more grunge and grit. The Franc Moody vehicle is maybe a bit more Hindustan Ambassador and a bit less Corvette. 

 “What we’re trying to do is make music that will last – and sound great in 10 years,” offers Jon. “And I think it is important to a certain degree to present a place of escape for people, people to clock off and tap into something else for a bit and, you know, get rid of some baggage.” In a world that feels like it’s going to hell in a hand-cart, there are worse ambitions than to bring some joy into the lives of people, even if only for a few hours in a concert hall (or five minutes on a dancefloor).