Franz Ferdinand: Franz Ferdinand

By RUSSELL BAILLIE

(Herald rating: * * * * *)



It seemed for a while there the best new British art-pop bands were coming out of New York. There have been the Rapture, Interpol, Stellarstar* - and occasionally the Strokes - doing their bit to keep alive the jerky dance of early-to-mid-80s English rock.

Between them, it sounded like the early works of the Cure, Joy Division/New Order, Gang of Four and others were being plundered to build a new movement.

One which seemed to say that after the big dumb fun of garage rock, it was time for thinking man's guitar music music once again.

Now here comes Franz Ferdinand - a band with roots both sides of Hadrian's Wall - to reclaim that legacy, as well as maybe inject some fun and sniffy attitude into the post-Britpop years.

They do that by delivering a cracker of a debut, one which makes it easy to see why they've been the buzz band at home since the beginning of the year and why they might be that British rock rarity - a band which translates from the cover of the NME out into the big wide world.

Stylistically they're about as derivative as those aforementioned NY outfits, but it's the dark panache of the songs that makes them an altogether superior and more satisfying offering.

As their historic name suggests, they are very arch dukes - lyrically louche frontman-guitarist Alex Kapranos can remind of Pulp's Jarvis Cocker, Bryan Ferry from Roxy Music's early years, Howard Devoto of the Buzzcocks and Magazine.

Behind him guitarist Nick McCarthy, bassist Bob Hardy and drummer Paul Thomson twitch with collective glee and power, sometimes sounding like they would rather be in the New York of early Talking Heads and Television.

And once or twice - The Dark of the Matinee, Take Me Out - they sound frighteningly like Split Enz from the wacky hairdo days.

It starts splendidly off-kilter with Jacqueline's loquacious intro, then bursts into thrilling bass-driven rumble. And between that and its Gang of Four-like finale 40', the askew but curiously groovy tunes just keep on coming.

Along the way, FF's songs play the tease in various directions. It sounds as if Kapranos has his heart set as firmly on Michael as office girl Jacqueline; Auf Achse's voyeuristic lyrics invite quick lapdance to a Euro-disco beat, while This Fire is FF's contribution to the list of great arson anthems.

Sure, their sound may hark back to a time of Margaret Thatcher and bands like the Monochrome Set.

But that doesn't stop Franz Ferdinand's debut sounding like it will be one of the most strangely vital things you'll hear in 2004.

Label: Domino/ Sony