Franz Ferdinand: You Could Have It So Much Better

Herald rating: * * * *

The trouble with those rare brilliant classic debut albums that make believers of us all is that the ones that come next are an instant test of faith.

And when they arrive so soon - Franz Ferdinand's second comes just 18 months after their 2004-conquering self-titled first outing - the suspicion is that we're either getting debut leftovers or it's the hasty effort of a band who can't believe the fluke they pulled off first time around.

The Glaswegian quartet's second chapter, however, is an album that shows a band still fit to burst. It's got as much arty verve as the debut, applied to a wider range of musical ideas.

However, its richer production and range of sounds initially can make one hanker for the simplicity of the first album - it made a virtue of its underdressed post-punk sonic austerity powering those jagged tunes, topped by frontman Alex Kapranos' arch vocal delivery.

On the other hand, YCHISMB, while not exactly breaking out the string section, adds much to the band's palette (pianos, synthesizers, effects seemingly borrowed from various periods in British art-rock, a melodica). Initially, it must be said, the new bells and whistles are a mite off-putting - the songs take a while to reveal themselves.

But they don't lack for energy. Opener The Fallen roars into view, all fuzzed-up and sour-sounding Scary Monsters guitars, before the first single, Do You Want To, proclaims itself this album's answer to its predecessor's Take Me Out with its tempo gear-shifts, hacksaw synths disco beat and a set of brutally infectious hooks - "do-do dododododo" and "lucky, lucky ... you're so lucky" will be the words that will be the undoing of many an office Christmas party this season.

Elsewhere, Franz Ferdinand again acknowledge their debt to early XTC (especially on the wiry barking-vocalled This Boy and Evil and a Heathen), the Smiths (the relatively languid Walk Away), Orange Juice (You're the Reason I'm Leaving) and, curiously, the Rolling Stones (the title track's reworking of Satisfaction, though perhaps via the Devo version).

Unlike the debut, they throw in a couple of lovelorn ballads - the Kinks-ish Fade Together and the dreamy Eleanor Put Your Boots On, which sounds from this side of the planet like a dead ringer for David Kilgour.

There are a few songs that make you wonder whether you've heard that tune before a few tracks earlier. And while Kapranos' words on the debut evoked a black comedy of sexual fumblings and desperate encounters, this one feels slightly disconnected in its lyrical concerns.

Not that Kapranos has lost his biting sense of humour. Neither has his band lost any of the sense of urgency, arty swagger or the feeling that they've only just begun.

Label: Domino/BMG