[rating=6.00]
Of course Franz Ferdinand joined forces with Sparks on a new album. The Glasgow post-punk quartet was heavily influenced by the pop rock pioneers, with their snarky songwriting, infectious beats, and danceable rhythms. After a decade of trying to collaborate, they finally succeeded, under the name FFS.
This isn’t a paint-by-numbers collaboration, however. Rather than sounding like either band but with a guest vocalist, FFS sounds like a new band entirely. Sure, some of the bands’ trademarks, such as Russell Mael’s falsetto and Franz Ferdinand’s off-kilter hooks are here, but the album sounds different than expected. It’s far less guitar riff-heavy than Franz Ferdinand albums and is more tightly crafted than Sparks’ more recent experimental electronica.
The combination of diverse but related styles that makes up FFS results in an album that is insanely catchy, sometimes cringe-worthy, but always interesting. At its best, FFS is defined by clever wordplay, dense dance grooves, and a sense of kinetic energy. The album opener, “Johnny Delusional,” finds Mael and Alex Kapranos trading stories from the point of view of a hopeless romantic, emphasis on hopeless. “Some might find me borderline attractive from afar,” Mael offers as consolation. The chorus features Kapranos and Mael admitting defeat over defiantly upbeat synths. “Though I want you, I know I haven’t a chance,” they admit.
“Call Girl,” the most Franz Ferdinand-like track, tells the story of a man who is sick of doing all the work in a relationship. “I realize it’s me who makes advances…and I realize all arrangements come from me,” they sing before admitting, “When I call on you everything is good.” Other highlights, such as the repetitive keyboard-masher “Save Me From Myself” and the slow shimmering “Things I Won’t Get,” show the members of Sparks and Franz Ferdinand playing off of their strengths, combining to produce slick earwigs.
There are some notable misfires, however. The aptly titled “Collaborations Don’t Work” is a jumbled mess, perhaps intentionally so. The overly long song has a theatrical bombast that is ill served by various miss-matched styles haphazardly thrown together. Given the meta-comedy of the subject matter, the song may do exactly as it was intended, but that doesn’t make it a pleasant listen. Conversely, “Piss Off” is a beer stein-waving pub song that falls flat.
Though FFS is a fun album throughout, it never rises to the level of greatness achieved by either band at its best. Less than the sum of its parts, it’s a worthy experiment showing examples of collaboration that does and doesn’t work. Interestingly, even at the album’s best moments, when the collaboration is clearly working, it’s still not better than an album by Franz Ferdinand or Sparks. Perhaps that’s a greater indictment of collaborations than the tongue-in-cheek song dedicated to the topic.
