A Certain Ratio - ACR:EPA (EP) - Red Vinyl

ACR:EPA lands like a sharp left jab from a band that made rhythm feel like a birthright. After the celebratory sprawl of ACR Loco, A Certain Ratio tightened the frame in 2021 and started a run of three EPs on Mute, with ACR:EPA up first in May. It plays like a focused conversation between old friends who still find new ways to make each other move. The core trio of Jez Kerr, Martin Moscrop, and Donald Johnson sound locked in and lean, all elastic basslines, clipped guitar, bright trumpet lines, and percussion that keeps finding pockets you didn’t know were there.

What gives this one its particular charge is the presence of Denise Johnson. Her voice had been part of ACR’s story for decades, and ACR:EPA captures her in what became her final recordings with the band. There is real tenderness in how they frame her, giving her room to glow without softening the band’s bite. You hear the Manchester grit in the rhythm section, but also a lot of love. It is dance music that remembers the people in the room.

ACR have always kept one foot in the club and the other on the rehearsal room floor, where muscle memory and mischief push the song somewhere strange. That sensibility is all over this EP. The tempos are built for hips, not just heads, yet there is a lot going on if you listen close. Donald Johnson’s drumming is crisp and conversational, ticking between rimshots and hi-hat chatter. Kerr’s bass doesn’t just anchor the groove, it nudges it, slipping little melodic turns into the spaces the percussion leaves behind. Moscrop’s guitar likes to scratch and stab rather than strum, and when he switches to trumpet it cuts through like a fresh breeze. The production keeps everything bone dry and immediate, so the smallest handclap or cowbell pops.

There is a reason younger bands keep borrowing ideas from A Certain Ratio. Long before “dance-punk” had a name, they were collapsing bins of vinyl in Manchester, pulling Chic and Fela and Postcard Records into the same rehearsal space. ACR:EPA doesn’t feel like a throwback though. It is nimble and current, the kind of record that slips into a DJ set and turns the temperature up a notch. Put the ACR:EPA vinyl on a decent system and the low end sits warm and tight, with high percussion that never gets brittle. It is the sort of 12 inch you flip right back to side A when it ends because the room is still humming.

There is a lived-in chemistry here you can’t fake. You can hear three players with decades of shared language finding the line between control and release. A quick horn phrase will spark a new bass figure, a small syncopation in the drums will pull the guitar into a new pattern, and suddenly the song has shifted its center without losing the thread. Denise rides those changes with ease, giving hooks a human glow that lingers after the beat fades. It is not a melancholy record, though the context adds weight. It sounds like friends raising a glass and getting people back on their feet.

If you are the kind of person who still chases that Factory-to-Mute continuum in your shelves, this one earns its space. A Certain Ratio vinyl has a way of becoming weeknight staples, and ACR:EPA is a reach-for-it record. You can buy A Certain Ratio records online easily enough, but if you stumble on a copy at a Melbourne record store while digging through new arrivals, do not overthink it. Fans in vinyl records Australia circles have been quick to point out how strong these 2021 pressings are, and they are right. Among A Certain Ratio albums on vinyl, this sits neatly next to Sextet and ACR Loco as a snapshot of what the band does when it trims the fat and lets the rhythm talk.

In a year when so many releases stretched out, ACR chose the short form and made it feel essential. ACR:EPA is compact, communal, and built for repeat plays. It reminds you why this band matters, and why a good EP can feel like a perfect night.