Ever since their beginnings, throwing illegal parties in condemned Glasgow buildings, Franz Ferdinand have been defined by a fresh, unfading, forward-facing outlook. A transgressive art-school perspective, but with a love of a big song. A big riff. A big idea. Somewhat contrary. Unafraid to dance. Unafraid to think. Unafraid to fear.
Ever since their beginnings, throwing illegal parties in condemned Glasgow buildings, Franz Ferdinand have been defined by a fresh, unfading, forward-facing outlook. A transgressive art-school perspective, but with a love of a big song. A big riff. A big idea. Somewhat contrary. Unafraid to dance. Unafraid to think. Unafraid to fear.
Their sixth studio album, The Human Fear, courses with an energy that makes you feel very much alive. Fear makes you feel alive. Awake. A life without fear is a life asleep. Fear is what shows us our humanity. It’s why we search for it in horror films or extreme physical activities. The most life-defining moments are shaped by fear: acknowledging, accepting, or overcoming it.
All the good stuff is inseparable from fear. Commencing a relationship. The necessary vulnerability. Ending a relationship. Leaving an institution. Getting on that stage. To overcome fear, whether it’s fear of commitment, leaving an institution, or of isolation… What a buzz. What a reward.
While writing these new songs — many of which, beneath the immediacy of their choruses and melodies, allude to some fairly deep-set human fears — Franz Ferdinand released Hits To The Head, a retrospective of the previous 18 years. It sharpened the band’s perspective, allowing them to understand the essence of what made them work, while liberating them from the past. When you know who you are and are comfortable with it, you are free to go somewhere new. At this point in their career, Franz Ferdinand definitely know who they are, and are relishing the vigour that comes with accepting that.
There was a lot of writing before any recording. Then editing and arranging. For a swan to glide serenely, the feet have to kick like a motherfucker below the surface. The idea was to have a songbook before anything was recorded. No jamming. Texture, sonics and studio innovation are fine and thrilling, but superficial indulgence without good, solid songs.
Then the execution as rapidly as possible at AYR Studios, fuelled by the same agility that defined the songs on Hits To The Head. Few takes. The band in the room, playing together. That indescribable thing that happens when they do. The thrill of recording “The Birds” — one of the first songs they recorded — or thrashing out “The Doctor”’s deliriously energetic riff in about six minutes flat. Many of the vocals are the live takes, and those that aren’t were recorded under piles of coats, pillows and blankets in various bedrooms and cupboards across Paris, London, and Glasgow.
Overseeing the recording was producer Mark Ralph, a familiar collaborator who Franz Ferdinand worked with before on Right Thoughts, Right Words, Right Action. He gets it. Every reference, no matter how obtuse. Effortless. A very easy relationship. A great musician himself — a classical guitar child prodigy turned jazz musician turned pop producer to the stars — but also a good laugh. It has to be a laugh. It needs to be fun: even if the subject matter is dark, the joy of making it brings it to life. His perspective was invaluable.
At the heart of Franz Ferdinand is the relationship between Alex Kapranos and bassist Bob Hardy. They formed the band while working in a kitchen together, initially as an idea, then dredging Glasgow for accomplices. It is still the ideas which excite them before any of the music is made. Julian Corrie’s presence as a collaborator is also strong on this record. Fingers faster than an arpeggiator. Then there’s the dirt and attitude of Dino Bardot’s guitar and the sharp freshness of Audrey Tait’s beat, both of whom are on a full Franz Ferdinand album for the first time.
The cover artwork was inspired by Hungarian artist Dóra Maurer’s self-portrait 7 Twists. The visual side of the band has always been as important to them as the sound, and Maurer’s work appealed because it does exactly what they want from their music: a striking immediacy that is impossible to ignore, but with a depth and vulnerability that bears many returns and satisfactory repetition.
Maybe this is a set of songs about fear. But maybe all that chat about Human Fear is superfluous. Maybe this is just a set of bangers from an era-defining band continuing their unquestionably living legacy. Is that something to be afraid of?
Living a life awake.
There is nothing that makes you feel more awake than The Human Fear.
