Dance... Just Dance! To The Beat! The Beat! The Beat!

Franz Ferdinand once stated that if they had their way, they would erase Archduke Franz Ferdinand from history and replace him in the collective consciousness of the world with themselves. Well, taking their self-titled, full-length debut into consideration, it won't be long before children everywhere are learning about this arty, post-punk band from Glasgow instead of some dead guy whose assasination sparked World War I.

Alex Kapranos and his band know how to craft addicting songs that borrow heavily from—and effortlessly blend—late 70's disco, early 80's new-wave and even Pixies-era punk. Even with a wide range of influences, it's easily recognizable Brit-pop that does one thing above all—make you want to get up and shake what your momma gave you. That's right, it's dance music and it's damn good. Admist the resurgence of political awareness in music this year, Franz Ferdinand reacquaint rock with its long lost best friend: the dance floor.

Take the opening Jaqueline, for example. After a soft, caressing beginning that has Kapranos almost whispering his lyrics, the wailing guitars mark their entrance at about the minute mark. And then it's on. Beginning as a sensitive track seemingly about heartbreak and without notice or reason tranforming into an all out rock song, Franz Ferdinand begin their attempt to erase history with a track so uniquely theirs, a song that, while nothing shockingly innovative, assembles all the pieces of rock and roll in manner that screams—no, suavely intonates—that this is what rock should sound like, and this is how it should make you feel.

It's exciting to come across a debut which just perspires cool—without having any pretensions—and in a time when all and everything in music is slapped with the label of "hip" or "the (new) best band/album/artist ever", finding a band that exudes such confidence and dextrous musicianship isn't common. In fact, many a band would have failed miserably if they tried to record Take Me Out, Franz Ferdinand's breakout single. In what could be a brilliant mash-up of two songs with infectious tempo changes and standout drumming from Paul Thomson, the transition between the track's introduction and the rest of the melodic, four minute song is genius. Not to mention the track boasts some of Kapranos' most fetching lyrics, of which run the gamut from loneliness to snipers and one-night stands. All in the same song.

Kapranos and his bandmates have a keen sense of melody; Tell Her Tonight finds the band howling, in falsetto almost, their lyrics which are both playful and captious, and the spacious bassline keep proceedings moving along at a brisk pace. All sexual innuendo aside, Dark Of The Matinee simply begs to be sung along to, its spry guitars and every so slightly changing chords the perfect backdrop for Kapranos and his dry wit. Yeah, it's a song about getting it on in the movie theatre, but it's also a sly look at fame and all it brings. And those looking for an anthem will find just that on This Fire, an intense number with infectious riffs that play off against each other in true art-rock fashion.

There are no conceited guitar solos on the album, but that's because Franz Ferdinand's entire debut is practically one, long guitar solo. The melodies are intricate enough that they warrant their own praise without needing pointless solos to keep things interesting, and most of the tracks gradually modify their melodies in such a way that each song sounds as it almost never exactly repeats its former music. The synth-assisted Come On Home uses this tactic brilliantly, towards the track's finale the chords simply climb octaves until the track nearly implodes on itself. Plus, Kapranos' self-deprecating wit is soaked in humour and satire—Michael and its erotic, punk stylings urges the pursuit of hot male a*s, and the album closing 40 Ft is a full-blown song about suicide, but you'd never guess from its exciting, danceable nature—and it never once becomes boring. Granted, Kapranos isn't the deepest lyricist in rock, but that's perfectly fine as he doesn't need to be. The lyrics are just another layer to his band's songs, he could be singing about pink cows and flying buildings and it would work.

Franz Ferdinand are rock stars, and they make fantastic music. It really doesn't get any simpler. Their music is a throwback to an era when an artist's glamour and style meant just as much as the music—as long as the music was good enough to get you out of your seat and onto the dance floor, of course. The garage-band sound and low-fi recording techniques aren't gimmicks, it's just part of Franz Ferdinand's shtick. Now turn up the volume and have some fun, damnit.

4.5 Stars