Lazer Man’s “Bubble Funk” EP on funkON is a neon-lit ride through the backstreets of funk-infused clubland, where the ghosts of Electro pioneers whisper syncopations into the ears of House’s unruliest disciples. The Lyon-based producer twists timeworn grooves into a kaleidoscope of gleeful urban indulgence, a sonic fever dream where every bassline is a limousine interior and each hi-hat a glint of gold on a ring-adorned pinky finger.
The titular “Bubble Funk” pops like a champagne cork, sending droplets of liquid groove cascading onto an already sweat-slicked dance floor. A purring, low-slung bassline rolls through the track’s architecture like a luxury coupe cruising past block parties, tinted windows veiling the mischief within. The break in the last third—a scratched-up, turntablist’s delight—arrives like a street magician flipping a deck of cards in slow motion, revealing an ace you never saw coming. Part House, part Electro, all strut.
If “Bubble Funk” plays the charismatic smooth operator, “Bip Bip” is the track that drags you into the alley behind the club for a high-voltage recalibration of your auditory senses. The swung groove swaggers with a knowing smirk, its effervescent funk steeped in retro-futurist cool, but it’s the breakdown that truly unhinges. A glitchy, free-falling deconstruction of rhythm and space, it recalls Ardisson’s mutant garage forays—except Lazer Man smuggles in sugar-rushed complextro jolts, like a malfunctioning android in the throes of an ecstatic seizure. Forward-thinking yet deliciously hedonistic, this is the soundtrack to cybernetic breakdancers battling under flickering neon.
Leopard-print briefs, velvet ropes, disco balls spinning in the fog—”Boogie Down” doesn’t just invoke the golden age of hip-thrusting excess; it resurrects it with an electro-funk séance. There’s an undeniable flex to the way the bassline dips and flicks, every note landing with a self-assured wink. If a track could wear sunglasses indoors, this would be the one. It doesn’t demand attention; it commands it with the effortless confidence of someone who knows exactly how good they look under the strobe lights.
Atree closes the EP with a talkbox-fueled reinterpretation of “Bubble Funk” that shifts the track’s DNA ever so slightly—less chrome, more velvet. The bitcrushed vocal injections are playful teases, drawing out the track’s flirtatious side, while a luminous piano line injects a houseier warmth than the original. The result? A remix that slips a Cuban heel under “Bubble Funk”‘s sneakers, giving it a more pronounced dancefloor strut, a touch more chic to its funk-fueled bravado.
With “G Slow,” Lazer Man pivots into deeper house territory without shedding his signature funk-laced energy. The bassline is lush and unrelenting, a thick slab of rhythm hitting with the precision of a boxer’s jab, while the percussion keeps things rolling with a tight, propulsive shuffle. But it’s the unexpected intermezzo—a fleeting burst of punk-inflected vocals, raw and urgent—that throws a delicious curveball into the mix. Like a rogue wave interrupting a slickly executed yacht party, it injects a rebellious, almost DIY spirit into the track’s otherwise polished architecture.
Closing the EP with a subtle shift in mood, “Romantic Earth” is a late-night roller draped in deep, dreamy textures. The pads stretch into infinity, blanketing the track in a soft-focus glow, while spoken-word vocals drift through the mix like echoes of half-remembered conversations. There’s something nostalgic here, a melancholic romance woven into the groove—a track that feels like walking home at dawn, the city still humming with the night’s energy but already fading into memory. A more tech-leaning affair than its companions, yet no less steeped in the EP’s overarching aura of playful sophistication.
Lazer Man’s “Bubble Funk” EP is a deliriously stylish exercise in electronic pageantry, where deep house mingles with electro’s unruly heritage, and funk drapes itself over every contour like a fur-lined coat. This is dance music for those who prefer their grooves with a side of ostentation, a wink in the mix, and just enough swing to keep the floor packed until the sun rudely intrudes on the party. With the addition of “G Slow”‘s unexpected vocal bite and “Romantic Earth”‘s wistful depth, the digital bonus tracks only enhance the EP’s duality—half devil-may-care decadence, half introspective dream sequence.
Words by Holger Breuer
Torture the Artist 