Franz Ferdinand – ‘The Human Fear’ album review: the beginning of the end for art-rock greats?

Posted On January 9, 2025January 9, 2025

THE SKINNY: I’ll be 30 years old next week. This isn’t a plea for my inbox to be inundated with messages of goodwill or commiseration, but it’s an important landmark in the ageing process that I feel often comes with the added expectation that one starts acting their age, undergoes a sudden maturation overnight, and considers whether their lifestyle choices are going to do any lasting damage. It also means I’ll have spent roughly 70% of my time on earth with a knowledge of Scottish art-rock group Franz Ferdinand.

The Glasgow-based band have done a remarkable job of staying relevant for over two decades. They have never been shy of throwing new ideas into the mix to keep things fresh. However, just as I expect to suddenly start complaining about joint pain on a more regular basis, Franz Ferdinand have begun to show signs of deterioration as they obtain vintage status as a band. Their latest release, The Human Fear, appears to have struggled to capture the same potency that they once had.

It’s quite painful to think that the youth of today consider music from 2004 to be ‘old shit’, but they’re part of a generation that have kept bands like Franz Ferdinand alive due to their refusal to remove ‘Take Me Out’ from student indie night playlists. That’s fair enough, too, as it’s the sort of song that was always destined to stand the test of time due to how urgent it has always sounded, and the rest of their self-titled debut album can happily make the same claim.

Franz Ferdinand was, and is, a vivacious blend of XTC-esque post-punk and sleek new wave that didn’t feel at all like a sinister and calculated grab at the re-emergence of said trends around the time. Yes, The Strokes and Interpol might have pipped them to the post in getting their takes on the genre revival into the public eye, but the Scots had something just as exceptional and worthwhile to offer to the world.

None of their subsequent albums have quite managed to eclipse the brilliance of their debut, but that’s not to say it’s been diminishing returns for the group in the years since. Franz Ferdinand didn’t choose to ever rush to put out a follow-up record due to overwhelming demand; they instead chose to carefully craft their records and make them as worthy as possible. They’ve shifted with the times in tasteful ways, too. They’ve adapted their sound to be more fitting as they themselves have gone through the maturation process.

However, this pursuit of making sure their releases feel polished has reached a point where they’ve all but scrubbed away the last remaining bits of raw and youthful energy that made them an exciting listen in the first place. Getting older doesn’t mean you have to resign yourself to playing it safe and turning yourself into a husk that’s devoid of your old personality and charm, but The Human Fear certainly seems like it rationed the amount of risks the band were allowed to take, and sapped a good portion of the passion from them.

There are still examples on the record that show off how distinguished frontman Alex Kapranos is as a songwriter, but all bar two of the tracks on the record have been coated with so much polish that it has turned a number of them sterile. There’s often an absence of creative abandon, just replaced by a slick professionalism—but it shouldn’t have to be that way. it has rendered the record eminently listenable, but just how many memorable listens it will garner is another matter.

Franz Ferdinand are still more than capable of writing great records, but they need to remind themselves that maturing as a group doesn’t have to mean sacrificing their vitality. As Kapranos says himself on the album’s opening track: “Don’t stop feeling audacious, there’s no one to save us, so just carry on.” These should be words to live by, but they’re almost a hollow mantra.

For fans of: Magnolia walls, putting the toaster setting below four, shrugging.

A concluding comment from me, aged 9: “This band are excellent; I sure hope I don’t end up writing a disparaging review about them when I’m a miserable old git.”

The Human Fear track by track:

Release Date: January 10th | Producer: Mark Ralph | Label: Domino

‘Audacious’: Despite the lyrics in the chorus not being adhered to throughout the album, this opener shows off both the group’s pop, glam and post-punk sensibilities, and while the singalong chorus could be seen to be sickly-sweet, it manages to avoid becoming too clichéd. [3.5/5]

‘Everydaydreamer’: This track goes into disco territory with its four-to-the-floor beat and rumbling bassline, but it fails to capture the genre’s ability to get the listener jumping out of their seat to hit the dancefloor. The chorus feels trite, and Kapranos’ delivery lacks enthusiasm. [1.5/5]

‘The Doctor’: The vim comes back on this one, but the overpolished production that the album seems hell-bent on slathering over the top of tracks often distracts from the better elements of the track. Imagine if Devo ‘sold out’, and you’ve got this track. [3/5]

‘Hooked’: This is a baffling one, and sounds like the type of song early 2000s Madonna would have jumped on in a heartbeat. Inexplicably, there are shades of Soulwax and the Black Eyed Peas in equal measure, and even more inexplicably, it almost works. [2.5/5]

‘Build it Up’: In an effort to add some bounce to the track, they’ve inadvertently made a song that doesn’t seem too far away from a sea shanty. Swap out the Telecasters for accordions, and the pirates would be all over this one. [2/5]

‘Night or Day’: This could be one of the stronger tracks on the album if it wasn’t absolutely drenched in a production style that doesn’t suit the group. Instead, you’re left yearning for something that doesn’t sound like inoffensive Radio 2 fodder. [2.5/5]

‘Tell Me I Should Stay’: What begins as a maudlin and theatrical piano ballad develops into a swinging sophisti-pop track. It’s cheesy as anything, but it’s got one heck of a hook on the chorus. [3.5/5]

‘Cats’: This is another one for the seafarers, and both guitars doing a really dull lick in unison in the chorus is calling out for one to break the pattern and throw in a weird and angular bit. [2/5]

‘Black Eyelashes’: The verses have something of a European flavour to them, and there’s finally a bit of grit to some of the guitar work, but at the same time, they’ve succumbed to making what could be a fun track quite unmemorable. [2.5/5]

‘Bar Lonely’: The band return close to their old sound for the tail end of the album and doesn’t suffer in any way from attempting to polish it to perfection. It isn’t excellent, but it’s promising to hear them enjoying themselves in a sound that’s not outside of their comfort zone. [3.5/5]

‘The Birds’: This is vintage Franz Ferdinand and a very strong way to close proceedings. Look at it how you want, but I choose to see it as a reward for anyone who was willing to sit through the mixed offerings that came before it. [4/5]

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