To a certain type of music fan in the late 1990s, The Buffalo Bunch were the dukes of Paris. Not only did the duo of Play Paul and Raw Man record for both Guy-Manuel de Homen Christo’s Crydamoure and Thomas Bangalter’s Roulé labels - the only artist to do so - they also had solo careers, remixed Phoenix and seemed to be DJing at every club I wasn’t cool enough to go to. Add in the fact that Play Paul was, in fact, Guy-Man’s brother and it felt like The Buffalo Bunch owned Paris.

On reflection, they probably didn’t. As a duo, the Bunch only released four 12 inches, one of which I have only heard of today (2002’s For The Floors EP) and one of which appears to only exist on Discogs (the label-less We Rock Music EP); and remixed eight songs. True, some of these songs were gilded anthems in the Paris clubs of the time but most of The Buffalo Bunch’s music isn’t available on streaming in 2026 and you’ll pay a pretty penny to pick up their Roulé and Crydamoure 12 inches.

This could be about to change, though. In September 2026, Romain Séo, FKA Raw Man, announced that TMS Records would be releasing The Buffalo Bunch - A Musical journey with Play Paul and Raw Man, a vinyl release comprising The Buffalo Bunch’s T.I.T.T.S. and Music Box; Raw Man’s Lovers and Number Seven; Play Paul’s Spaced Out and Holy Ghostz; the duo’s iconic remix of Phoenix’s If I Ever Feel Better; and Grandlife by We In Music, Séo’s collaboration with Benjamin Diamond, on which Paul sang backing vocals.

It’s not quite the mother load - there’s no sign of the Bunch’s Roulé record or their remix of Bebel Gilberto’s Close Your Eyes - but house music fans got very excited indeed. It also kicked me into gear. So herebare my five classic Buffalo Bunch tunes to destroy a Paris dance floor.

1. The Buffalo Bunch - Buffalo Club (1998)

While Play Paul will never be as well known as his Daft Punk brother, he deserves his own plinth in the house music museum for his bass lines, which are among the finest, funkiest and hookiest in the land. (He played bass on Jess and Crabbe’s potty-mouthed classic The Big Booya, for example, which is an absolute peach.)

Most of The Buffalo Bunch’s greatest moments are built around Paul’s bass and the duo started as they meant to go on with Buffalo Club, their debut release (apart from a 1996 remix of Cassius’s Foxxy), which came out on Scratché, a one-off offshoot of Thomas Bangalter’s Roulé label. 

There’s very little to it: disco drums taken from First Choice’s eternal Love Thang, a couple of very well employed samples, snatched from Miroslav Vitous’ Basic Laws and Donna Summer’s Bad Girls, and a bass line that wouldn’t even consider quitting if you broke its leg and stole its shoes. But from this they summon magic, creating a rolling dance floor epic that teases and taunts until the bass line ambles along 90 seconds in to take everything home. 

I don’t DJ a lot. But every single time I do I always think about playing Buffalo Club. It’s that sort of song; a reminder that sometimes doing the simple things with plenty of oomph and a little guile, is enough to own the dance floor.

2. The Buffalo Bunch - T.I.T.T.S.  (Take It To The Street!) (1999)

Scratché scratched off into history and The Buffalo Bunch migrated to Guy-Man and Eric Chedeville’s Crydamoure label for their next release, in 1999: Take It To The Street! (AKA, yes, T.I.T.T.S.) / Music Box.

The change didn’t exactly make the duo tear up their blueprint. Both songs are based around disco samples and big bass lines, in a frankly laudable case of playing to your strengths. They are both great - if not quite Buffalo Club - but Take It To The Street! noses the finish line by virtue of sampling Leo Sayer’s You Make Me Feel Like Dancing and transforming it into a slightly deranged disco-house monster that you wouldn’t take home to meet the parents, pitching the singer up like a goblin-voiced demon and adding drums that thump like thunder.

3. Raw Man - Number 7 (Remix By Le Knight Club) (1999)

With due apologies to Play Paul’s carnival fun house banger Holy Ghostz, Le Knight Club’s remix of Raw Man’s Number 7, released on Crydamoure in 1999, gets the nod. 

As heard on the label’s classic Waves compilation, the track barrels along with the concentrated chemical energy of under-diluted orange squash, falling brilliantly in between the ultra-dynamic minimalism of Thomas Bangalter’s solo work and Crydamoure’s rainbow-colourful disco loops.

4. Phoenix - If I Ever Feel Better, I'll Go To The Disco (Said The Buffalo Bunch) (2000)

It is often forgotten that remixing, at its most lethally effective, can simply be a case of finding THAT BIT in a song, zeroing in on it and then rinsing it for all your life depends on. 

This is precisely what The Buffalo Bunch do on their remix of Phoenix. If you’ve heard it even once you’ll know: our heroes take Phoenix singer Thomas Mars’ throw-away half line - “I can try, I can try, I can try” - pitch it up, loop it to oblivion and add a superlative, serpentine bass line, creating one of the most funkily tense numbers in dance history. It is absolutely pointless to resist. The remix lasts six minutes; it could last 16 - or even 36. Perfection.

5. Bebel Gilberto - "Close Your Eyes" (Buffalo Bunch Vs We In Music Remix) (2003)

After a relatively busy start to the 2000s, The Buffalo Bunch eased off as the decade progressed. Séo launched his We In Music collab and We In Rock label, while Play Paul busied himself with various projects. 

2001 saw the duo remix Panico and Basement Jaxx; in 2002 they took on Audio Bullys and in 2003 came their penultimate gesture: a remix for Brazilian singer Bebel Gilberto that reminded the world of how fabulous The Buffalo Bunch could be, right as they shuffled off the scene.

It’s a remix in the line of their Phoenix remake: isolate the track’s best bit, loop it and stick a bass line under. But why not, when it worked so well the first time? In this case, the stand out is the chorus, in which Gilberto sings, “You can close your eyes and never be alone”, one of those wonderful sentiments that makes no sense but we all understand when the dance floor beckons. 

To be fair to the Bunch do also use the rest of the vocal, as well as some Brazilian-sounding drums to differentiate it from their other work. When the bass line hits, though, you’ll know: this is prime Buffalo Bunch, a French House lesson in the power of smartly compressed drums, a bass line so physical you could stub your toe on it and very little else. 

There would be one final work from The Buffalo Bunch in 2010, when the duo remixed Jamaica’s I Think I Like U 2 as if the last decade hadn’t happened, and then oblivion. Nowadays Séo largely makes music for TV and movies, while Paul has also dabbled in film. That’s all well and good. But here’s hoping the new compilation is a Buffalo-sized success and The Bunch can return to wreak havoc with their sheer bass pressure.

TV Noise - a music documentary special

Broken English

Marianne Faithfull’s story - her real story, of Broken English and Hamlet rather than Jagger and Redlands - probably isn’t so well known as to demand a telling that goes beyond the typical traits of cinematic documentary.

And yet that is what Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard have given Faithfull on Broken Tears, a new(ish) film that I saw at Barcelona’s In-Edit festival last week. It mixes archive footage and one of Faithfull’s last interviews with a half-cocked story about a “Ministry for Not Forgetting”, whose production values mirror that of a late 2000s Dr Who episode.

It’s a format Forsyth and Pollard have explored before on 20,000 Days on Earth, their 2014 Nick Cave drama-documentary, and you could argue that a story as singular as Faithfull’s demands innovation. The cast, too, is very strong, including Tilda Swinton, Sophia Di Martino and George MacKay.

And yet rather than hyper-charge Faithfull’s tale - as the makers surely must have hoped - this post-modern play undercuts it. MacKay, as “the record keeper”, is charged with interviewing Faithfull (who, judging by the gleam in her eyes seems quietly amused by the whole construct) and reacting to her words. But his reactions seem fake - they are fake, after all - and lacking in humanity, which feels inappropriate and distracting. 

The “plot”, as it is, is paper thin. And what are Zawe Ashton and Sophia Di Martino doing, other than offering banal words of support for Faithfull and insults to her detractors. What happened to “Show, don’t tell”?

The other problem of the dramatic set up is that to introduce the film’s various guests - an impressive line up that includes Courtney Love, Beth Orton, Warren Ellis and Barry Reynolds - the film makers must either dream up an elaborate conceit - a name drawn on a blackboard, the flash of a paper - or leave their identities to float in the ether, which means that even the most attentive viewer will be left wondering at some point who the hell these people are. Was that Debbie Googe on the bass? Yes, it turns out it was. But I only discover this when the film had finished.

The nadir of this is a roundtable discussion involving Bat For Lashes, Edith Bowman and several other participants I am still trying to figure out the names of, which is introduced by the blink-or-you’ll-miss-it flash of a paper, leaving the viewer spectacularly in the dark. Who are these people? And why are they here? Is this mystery really the best way to tell Faithfull’s story?

On the other hand, the interview with Faithfull is moving, despite MacKay,’s best efforts, the archive footage is gold and the opportunity to watch Faithfull react in real time to this footage is almost worth the price of admission alone. The film also captures Faithfull’s last ever singing performance, in the studio with Nick Cave and Warren Ellis, which is hugely emotional.

Broken English has enough to it to merit a watch. But it is shadowed by the ghost of missed opportunity and failed ambition, the very last thing that a character as boldly profound as Marianne Faithfull deserves.

Fugs Film!

With big personalities, tragic back story, far-out music, rebellion, counter culture, drugs, sex and controversy, you’d have to go pretty far to mess up the story of The Fugs, the New York band who mixed art rock with poetry, outrageous creativity and rejection of straight American mores.

At the same time, it takes an especially sympathetic production nous to get things as right as Chuck Smith does on Fugs Film!, which got its Spanish premiere at In-Edit last week. The film fits The Fugs like a slightly dazed glove, mixing berserk, psychedelic animation, amazing archive footage and new interviews with most of the key people in The Fugs story. (Co-founder Tuli Kupferberg sadly died in 2010.)

The result is funny, sad, profound and entertaining. More than anything, though, it is inspiring a tale of joyful creativity and original thinking; of refusing to take the trusted path; of anarchy and iron will and the power that can be found in saying “no” to society. The Fugs were one of American’s great bands and perhaps its most subversive. And they were never, ever boring. 

The Fugs didn’t make this film - New York producer, director and writer Chuck Smith did. But I can think of no higher praise than if The Fugs had made a film, it would have been Fugs Film!, one of the most entertaining, original and downright inspiring musical documentaries I have ever seen. And, yes, it definitely earns that exclamation mark.

PS Fugs Film! is being shown in Barcelona again on November 7. If you can, go.

Some listening

Spacetime Continuum with Terence McKenna - In the Body

Back in the 90s nobody thought twice of teaming up veteran ethnobotanists with Scotland-via-San Francisco ambient acts for live performances to drift away to of an evening. In the Body is the living, breathing, chilling example of this, taken from Soliton, a freshly-restored live recording of a 1993 gig by Astralwerks ambient stalwart Spacetime Continuum and Terence McKenna. 

It is, perhaps, most notable as a historical document of the Bay Area oddball scene and your enjoyment of the recording will depend on your tolerance of McKenna’s nasal voice and his very theatrical performance, which is mixed loud over Spacetime Continuum’s gentle ambient swirl, like The Orb without the humour. But it’s all very charming, the kind of happening I imagine San Francisco was full off pre-tech bro hell. AND it was recorded on Halloween, which makes it perfect for, erm last week.

Atlas Sound - Octoberland

Is Octoberland, Atlas Sound’s first new song in 15 years, also a Halloween song? The words are inconclusive and Bradford Cox deliver them like he’s just woken up from a truly epic nap; but the song’s spookily minimal backing, a mixture of broken glockenspiel and sub bass line, is enough to creep up the hairs on the back of the neck. Unlike Trick or Treaters, though, it definitely IS good to have Atlas Sound back.

Things I’ve Done 

Line Noise podcast 286 - Inside A Disco Pogo Tribute To Boards of Canada with editor Jim Butler

I interviewed Jim Butler, the editor of A Disco Pogo Tribute To Boards of Canada about "the eternal appeal of Boards of Canada, balancing fact and legend, the power of memory, what exactly is in the book and lots more. 

The playlists

I have two playlists: the newest and the bestest 2026, which has all the best new music from this year; and the newest and the bestest, which dates right back to 2021. Both are available on Apple Music And Spotify.

Apple Music: The newest and bestest 2026

Spotify: the newest and bestest 2026

Apple Music: The newest and the bestest

Spotify: The newest and the bestest