Franz Ferdinand : Take Me Out

Scottish pretend poshos swallow Funky America whole and spew out dancefloor classic...

When not ruthlessly extorting tithes from the peasants and putting poachers to the sword, the New Scottish Gentry certainly enjoy a good funk in the lower field. ‘Take Me Out’ – the second single from Glasgow’s brightest young ermine rockers [a]Franz Ferdinand[/a] – skanks smartly along like [a]Hot Hot Heat[/a] marching proudly up the parade of trumpeters to be knighted, or an army of slow-clapping Radio 4s preparing to engage with the Hun at the Somme. And how we get here from the opening minute – basically The Who trying to force [a]Strokes[/a] off the top of a runaway freight-train bound for Gangoffoursville with windmilled power chords – is a wonder and a mystery akin to how Jack White suddenly turned into Vinnie Jones with the red mist at the merest whiff of the blood of a Von Bondie.

In fact, Jack could learn a thing or two about getting dumped with dignity from ‘Take Me Out’. Fresh from love’s u-bend, Alex Kapranos picks himself up, brushes himself off, straps on his disco wig and boogies on down to the ‘House Of Jealous Lovers’ retro club to dance like he’s never been hurt and hump like no-one is watching. It’s a cocky, steel-bollocked stomp and, tellingly, the UK’s best assimilation of New York’s Noo Garridge Revolooshun yet. These are men who have feasted long and greedily on ‘Dance To The Underground’, ‘Last Nite’, ‘Mystery Girl’ and ‘Sister Saviour’ (with side-orders of bloody beef and freshly hacked fox tail, presumably) and regurgitated it all soaked in sour Scottish sass. So even while they’re birching chambermaids in Big Quad and trying to marry off their daughters to German barons they’re still a shining example to the lesser classes of the proper ettiquette and deportment to be observed while surfing the zeitgeist. Super fantastisch!

Mark Beaumont