Franz Ferdinand
From AwardAnnals
| This creative work has a long or truncated description. Please review the creative work guidelines concerning descriptions and edit down or replace the description. |
 | |
| Artist(s) | Franz Ferdinand |
|---|---|
| Label | Sony |
| Honors | |
| Franz Ferdinand is an unrelentingly smart, fluffy, and fun debut. This Scottish four-piece plays vaguely angular, guitar-heavy post-pop that makes you want to dance around the room while playing air guitar. It’s the ideal hipster guilty-pleasure music. This is what the Rapture and Interpol would sound like if they wrote songs half as good as those they rip off, or the Strokes if their parents had sent them to art school instead of the fashion academy. Every song on here is so blatantly derivative it sounds almost original, like a Blur without the gloomy… | |
Honors
Reviews
Amazon.com
Franz Ferdinand is an unrelentingly smart, fluffy, and fun debut. This Scottish four-piece plays vaguely angular, guitar-heavy post-pop that makes you want to dance around the room while playing air guitar. It’s the ideal hipster guilty-pleasure music. This is what the Rapture and Interpol would sound like if they wrote songs half as good as those they rip off, or the Strokes if their parents had sent them to art school instead of the fashion academy. Every song on here is so blatantly derivative it sounds almost original, like a Blur without the gloomy hangover. It’s too early yet to tell if this is just a band for the moment or one for the ages—but who really cares with pop music, anyway? Songs like “Darts of Pleasure,” “Come on Home,” “Take Me Out,” and “Cheating on You” are so good they will surely appeal even to those without slanty, messy haircuts. —Mike McGonigal
—
Touted as being the first great album of 2004, Franz Ferdinand’s eponymous debut may be the secret weapon that’ll kick-start the British fight against the White Strokes. Though they have a reputation as being bohemian art-obsessed dilettantes, they’re at the vanguard of the Art Wave scene, and possess a fierce determination to change the face of modern music—their twin aims: to bring back cerebral rock that makes you want to dance, and to bring frontline music back home (witness exclusively British lyrics such as “I’m on BBC 2 now; telling Terry Wogan how I made it”). So what weapons do these four skinny lads engage to galvanise the UK music scene? Unsurprisingly, they roll out the big guns of Britpop past. “Cheating on You” bounces like early Blur; “Come on Home” soars like pre-OK Computer Radiohead; “Michael” flirts with Suede-esque sexual androgyny; and “Matinee” sleazes onto you like Pulp at their most lascivious.
Though they draw on the past, they do so wisely, injecting voguish angular 80s synth-pop with old-fashioned heart and soul. Their debut embraces the experimental, featuring time-signature changes and mid-song tempo drops, yet its solidity prevents it from consignment to the gratuitously quirky bin. If you feel that the Rapture lack a sense of drama and Interpol lack joy and energy, then Franz Ferdinand are the boys for you. Their stated ambition is to erase the Archduke Franz Ferdinand from the annals of history and replace him in the collective consciousness with themselves. Archduke who? —Paul Eisinger
