Masterminding an invitation to a polysexual masked ball with everyone’s Eyes Wide Shut, Fur Coat parade like a lip-biting peacock. And not in a naughty but nice way either; insolence is a punishable offense, and enjoyment will be laid down in spite of that sleeve wanting to give the game away. Taut deep house using bossy bass babbles, emptiness and space as a method of mind control (there’s not much going on, but therein lies the intensity) turns the dance floor into a blackened reserve (one dimensional though it may be) of unspoken decadence. As Crosstown Rebels do with snapping regularity.
From stiflingly humid (“You and I” serving the type of chain-smoking, Mia Wallace lyricism that marks the album’s pleasure-pain points) to comfortably musty (“She’s All Good” inching towards the back with a summoning falsetto, the funky for all seasons “Falls Away”), you always feel at the beck and call of Venezuelans Sergio Munoz and Israel Sunshine, rather than the two welcoming you into their den of inequity. “Change Resistance” increases the pressure by dropping the beats back down, “This is the End” finishes by sourly sealing fates, while “Space Ballad” is suitably robotic. You have every right to feel nervous around Mind Over Matter, its refusal to loosen up treating the club like a trial by fire, so get equipped for the most nigglesome grooves by night.
File under: Jamie Jones, Damian Lazarus, Craig Richards