They are, still, the world’s finest and only purveyors of cinematic hip hop, rock ‘n’ roll, blues-jazz, latino soul vibes. The planet’s best-loved “cousins from New York” who, through the mid-late 90s, chronicled life in their native city while bending the global ear to the sonic possibilities of exuberant hip-hop gangster-rock merged with lounge music, funk, mariachi trumpets and ‘Bass-o-matic’ Barry White. While possibly smoking a cheroot, in a sweat-dripped Puerto Rican nightclub, somewhere on the Lower East Side. Like The Killers and Kings of Leon today, the UK loved them first, the most; whip-smart story-tellers in smarter Saville Row suits, who told vibrant, satirical, comically tall tales of living large in the neon metropolis via music, drugs, crime and existential ennui. With a penchant for a beautiful “lady”.