At others it’s somewhat expected, such as when it kicks in with the chorus on the song “Dark of the Matinee”, given the live environment. At times it’s very obvious, as after the intro on “Take Me Out”. This phenomenon can be linked to the fact that the bassist only started to learn to play the instrument three years ago. If you’re wondering what I’m talking about then listen to the album again, and every time a song gets to the point where you start nodding your head with a serious look on your face and slightly sucked in cheeks, amplify the bass and imagine you’re wearing a military uniform. If you like marching then this is fine, and a lot of the time it works because it’s borne of rhythms that you wouldn’t expect to lead to, well, marching. Perhaps one criticism I would make would be concerning the over-employed, rhythmically thumping 2/4 beat. And to be honest, criticising Franz Ferdinand for being too panto is like criticising Bowie for being too cabaret. Perhaps this is because I come from Britain - Southeast England in fact - and am fully aware that a lot of us are slightly camp. I can overlook this and go as far as to say that I rather enjoyed some of the more pantomime-type performance. This evening you have to say that Kapranos was more the Ant to McCarthy’s Marco Pirroni. If you read the band’s biography, it’ll tell you that when McCarthy first met Kapranos, he was dressed like a young Adam Ant. The make-up, the quivering legs, and the dress-code (from mod suit to ’50s shirt) all go some way towards hammering the point home. There’s no doubt that Franz Ferdinand are slightly campy. Third, after the archduke-stencilled sheet dropped from in front of the stage to reveal Alex Kapranos (vocals, guitar), Nick McCarthy(vocals, guitar) and Robert Hardy (bass) standing in front of Paul Thomson (drums) in a pop-art pastiche of the Charlie’s Angels pose, you knew you were being faced with a band who had given thought to the fact that they were playing in front of a live audience. Second, they didn’t promise to cover a Jacques Brel song only to turn around and say “only joking” (you don’t mess with Jacques Brel over here). First, Franz Ferdinand didn’t take 45 minutes to come on stage (a French crowd is an impatient one). The factors that helped Franz Ferdinand pull the rug from underneath the Strokes for this French audience were threefold. And that wasn’t just because the audience was French. Why is this? Although Franz Ferdinand once claimed their intent was simply to make girls dance, they have made both the girls and the grown men think it’s cool to move. Listen to the band’s eponymous Mercury-prize winning album just after you’ve seen them live and it sounds somehow hollower than it did before - emptier. Actually, if their last European tour is any gauge, you get something that’s not quite as good as what’s on the record - perhaps live on stage it’s too technically difficult to sound like you’re singing the lyrics through the phone. To be honest, when the Strokes play live it’s a case of “What You Hear on the Record Is What You Get on Stage” (wyhotriwygos - okay, so the acronym doesn’t work). It’s time to let the real stars take the stage.įranz Ferdinand might hail from the other side of the channel, but for at least a year they’ve spear-headed the campaign to cement Glasgow’s status as the new capital of pop rock (even ahead of the older Belle & Sebastian). Looking for (art) college, post-punk revival with that slightly camp presence on stage? Ladies and gentlemen, please allow the Strokes to leave quietly through the back door.
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