Some collaborations are decades in the making, and few feel more overdue than this one. Jimpster — Jamie Odell, the man who has steered Freerange Records since the mid-90s — and Matt Masters have shared a label home and a friendship for the best part of twenty years, yet Dub Come Down marks their first official studio outing together. It lands as the imprint approaches its 25th anniversary, and it’s a fittingly assured celebration: three tracks of deep house with disco shimmering just beneath the surface.
Title track Dub Come Down opens the record in classic Freerange fashion, easing in on a warm, rolling bassline before the four-to-the-floor groove locks into place. The drums are characteristically crisp — tight hats, a soft clap and percussion that swings just enough to keep hips moving — whilst dubby delays wash across Rhodes-style chords that feel like they’ve been marinating in a Bristol basement since the late 90s. It’s a patient, unhurried opener that rewards repeated listens.
Area E3 tightens the focus considerably. Here the tempo stays grounded but the energy lifts, with a filtered, string-led hook nodding to the disco that has always underpinned the label’s sound. The arrangement strips back to a heads-down rhythm section in the middle, letting the bassline and a single shimmering arpeggio carry the floor before the strings swell back in for the final stretch. It’s the most direct track on the EP, and the most dancefloor-ready.
Closer No Normal is the longest cut at just over seven minutes, and it uses every one of them. Jimpster and Masters stretch out with a slow-burning build — deep, sub-heavy bass, shimmering pads and a breakdown that feels genuinely spacious, the reverb allowed to breathe before the groove reasserts itself and drifts into a warm, soulful fade. It’s a masterclass in restraint, the kind of track that only arrives when two producers trust each other completely.
Dub Come Down is exactly what you’d hope from this pairing: polished, deep and effortlessly musical. The two-decade friendship is audible in every bar — nothing feels forced, nothing overplayed — and the EP slots neatly into a catalogue that already reads like a history of British house. Here’s hoping the wait for the next one is considerably shorter.
