Franc Moody

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. An underwhelming performance at Glastonbury, where they were pitted against the Watford behemoth that is Elton John, meant a sparse crowd and flat delivery – plus personal life challenges. The pair felt they needed to evolve.

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). “We’ve got arguably one of the most interesting collection of synths in the world at our disposal and found that the tones and colors of – especially, weirdly – a lot of the Russian synthesisers that he’s got, the peculiar string machines and oddball little furry analog things that no one can understand what’s written on them actually became the basis of the sonic palette that we put together.” 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.

“We needed to rethink sonically how we wanted to present the project,” explains Jon. “We wanted to take away a little bit of the disco sheen that kind of crept into the sonics and try and have a slightly more raw and guttural approach to the music.” They’ve done this without forsaking the core aesthetic of the group, its ability to produce those anthemic hooks, while delivering some truly lovely 10cc-style backing vocals and string-lines courtesy of those delightfully malfunctioning Russian synths. As they sing on ’Going Through The Motions’, “Oh my Lord, I’m in the sweet spot.” No wonder their Spotify numbers are through the roof.

“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).

If anyone has followed the trajectory of Franc Moody’s career, they will know there’s one thing that overrides all others: their love of eggs. So, which is the best egg dish?

Ned: “Oh my God, you’re talking to the right person here. Scotch eggs. Soft yolk, everytime.”

Jon: “They say a secret to a long life is one boiled egg a day, but I think I’d rather die a bit earlier and have two.”

Here’s to a long career – and plenty of eggs.