Best of 2004: #15 -- Franz Ferdinand Franz Ferdinand
When you're a 6'5", 315-lb., 38-year-old Caucasian like me, dancing is strictly an involuntary proposition. I'm just not really out there actively seeking an opportunity to shake my midsection Michelin. It takes an album full of infectious grooves and addictive riffs, like Franz Ferdinand, to send me into the type of faux epileptic seizures typically reserved for the likes of Elaine Benes. And though it certainly isn't a pretty sight to witness me indulging my inner Rerun, it's an absolutely magnificent sound.
But Franz Ferdinand isn't content to merely offer up an album full of good beats that are easy to dance to; their lyrics also incite full listener participation. The ending refrain of "Darts of Pleasure" is single-handedly responsible for causing more Americans to sing along in German than since Nena and Falco comprised 90% of Martha Quinn's playlist. Not only are these lyrics catchy, but they're also rather provocative. Who's to say the uncomfortable eroticism of "Michael" isn't really an ode to John Boy's mom from The Waltons? Not that there's anything wrong with that...
by Bob Bland | 12/17/2004 06:29:00 AM
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