Album Review: Always Ascending, Franz Ferdinand

f all the bands buried beneath the ash cloud of the Great Indie Extinction, this past decade, Franz Ferdinand’s disappearance was most deeply felt. Life carried on just fine without Kaiser Chiefs, Razorlight or Bloc Party. Franz were different. Both gadabout pranksters and erudite pop professors, they made for consistently endearing company, even on the sputtering lesser records released after their astonishing self-titled debut of 2004.
Hooking up with Los Angeles aesthetes Sparks two years ago for the FFS project was confirmation of the Glaswegians’ continued existence. But nothing had been heard from Franz proper since 2013 and the Right Thoughts, Right Words, Right Actions LP – a silence that felt ever more foreboding.
The storm front appeared to thicken with the post-FFS departure of founding guitarist Nick McCarthy. He is replaced on Always Ascending by Julian Corrie, an English producer and keyboard player who previously recorded under the unpromising moniker of Miaoux Miaoux.
What Always Ascending confirms is that the old Franz Ferdinand – much like the ambitiously-moustached Austrian Duke from whence sprang their name – is very much dead. In that ensemble’s place stands an upbeat, engaging troupe of pop mischief makers. The reincarnation is joyously heralded by the grooving title track – an artful banger that sees frontman Alex Kapranos reaching for a stellar chorus as vintage beats turn cartwheels.
The pace seldom flags. ‘Lazy Boy’ and ‘Paper Cages’ are splendiferous avant-pop – less jagged than the Franz of old but with a determination to create a splash that offers more than ample compensation. Such ebullience is a consistent delight – even if their enthusiasm occasionally gets the better of them, such as on the misguided rap outro of ‘Huck And Jim’. Ditching their old floppy-fringed poise has proved a canny step. Franz 2.0 are bright and bouncy, a sugar-overload in pop form. On Always Ascending a determination to win back old fans, and garner a few newbies too, drives Kapranos and co. towards a state of fizzy, shiny-eyed catharsis.

Rating: 8/10