Franz Ferdinand
You Could Have It So Much Better

THE REVIEW

It's been a while since I visited DeBaser, blame it on the damned computer I'm writing on that still refuses to function normally... but the occasion, and the pleasure of returning to writing reviews, demanded facing the stress of dealing with poor and corrupted operating systems without fear: the occasion is the release of the new overhyped album by Franz Ferdinand.

I've read everything about it, really... in this month's magazines it seems that the four Scots have become the new Beatles.
On XL, a questionable replacement for Musica, there was even a little poll, one of those good for someone who has been into music for less than a month, which said (more or less): "to us, Franz Ferdinand seems like the best band of the decade, what do you think?"
...I admit, deep down, I'm a bit naive: once again, I told myself that such enthusiasm might be well-placed, and that it was worth trying out this magnificent new album from this almost new band; I download it and put it on, and I have a half existential crisis; no really, I think I'm a dinosaur, a nostalgic of the '90s now "old," I even think it's my fault because that which sounds so beautiful to so many others can't possibly seem so bad to me; yet I can't get out of my mind the fact that I listen to the first track "The Fallen" straight through and just don’t understand what's even remotely appreciable about it; lackluster melody, repetitive, soulless wholesale pop, even on its primary level of hooking the listener without much effort it seems to fail entirely. I won't dwell on every other track on the album, it would give me a fever; to summarize: the FF have lost what little style they had; much less homogeneous than in their debut, they have now chosen the path of citation, which makes them not more varied, but simply more "scattered," a sort of shadow band that covers here and there with particular focus on the '77-'84 period.

The usual pseudo dance riffs remain, which will certainly please those who already loved them, and which maintain a minimal stylistic framework, at least in terms of sound. But these are pale hints of uniqueness that certainly aren't enough to constitute a true personality.

Perhaps it really is my fault, I'm the one who doesn't understand them, but one thing is certain, at least for someone who has listened to a few hundred albums in their life: Franz Ferdinand (and unfortunately not just them) do not seem to acknowledge the existence of the concept of originality; hence, further proof of their mediocrity, they cannot admit that the very concept of evolution could exist. Which by definition exists where there is style.
In short, they embody an idea of mediocrity that I cannot and do not want to share if I still decide to believe that Rock can be Art, with a capital A.