This came out in 2004 – or at least that’s when I got it. Here’s what I said about it back then (with some minor editing):
When you name your band after the man whose assassination triggered the First World War, it’s a sign you’re a bit … different.
Of course, there’s good different and bad different; luckily for all concerned, Franz Ferdinand firmly fit in the former category. Not because everything these Glaswegians do is straight from left field — their spiky guitars, buzzy basses and tense post-punk dance grooves will ring bells with fans of everyone from Sparks and Talking Heads to Wire to Interpol — but because they upgrade those tactics with hammy glammy flourishes, catchy melodies and plenty of skewed lyrical odes to holidays, adultery and obsequious BBC hosts. Listening to frontman Alex Kapranos mock-seriously deliver lines like, “You can feel my lips undress your eyes,” it’s tough to miss the smirk in his voice — or wipe the matching one off your face. They may have named themselves after an archduke, but the way they’re going, Franz Ferdinand will be kings of the scene in no time.
