Franz Ferdinand Issue #25

Frontman Alex Kapranos shows us how the incredibly down-to-earth Scots started a worldwide dance party

By Anne Ichikawa
Published: September 1st, 2005 | 4:18pm

Almost two years ago, people near and far, old and young, black and white, Jews and gentiles, buff frat dudes and skinny indie kids joined together to do one thing: dance. What was the occasion for this disco party? A band from Glasgow called Franz Ferdinand.

By now we pretty much know who Franz Ferdinand is. Comprised of four Scottish lads (singer-guitarist Alex Kapranos, guitarist Nick McCarthy, bassist Bob Hardy, and drummer Paul Thomson), its debut album of infectious dance rock has sold more than 3 million copies. They played onstage with Gwen Stefani at the Grammys, and Snoop Dogg likes them (which is the absolute recognition of coolness). Yet, sitting across from me, Kapranos just looks like a college kid who works at a record store.

Franz Ferdinand’s new album — no title, just a different color — will be released October 4. With a cute Scottish accent, Kapranos talks to Venus about Franz’s second record, standing next to Ricky Martin at the Grammys, and chasing people around with a chainsaw.

So, what’s up with the “no title” title again?
When we had the idea, we thought, “Can we really do that and get away with it?” It all came about because we started talking about our favorite albums and we realized that some of our favorite albums had these appalling names to them. For example, even the Beatles, Rubber Soul is a terrible title, and Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band is so horrible. The Rolling Stones’ Their Satanic Majesty's Request? It’s rubbish. And Buzzcocks, Different Music in a Different Kitchen — nonsense! So we decided to play it safe [laughs].

Did you feel more pressure doing this album, since the first was such a success?
Not really. I think we would have felt a lot more pressure if the last album had bombed, because if we didn't do a decent album after that, we'd probably be back working part-time jobs. But having said that, there is a lot of pressure, but it comes from within. We want to do the best possible job we can do. I think we can probably be a little harsh on ourselves at times. We tend to be quite ruthless when it comes to playing and arranging songs. You have to be able to not give a damn. I think that can be the curse of bands when you have defensive and precious band members protecting what they created.

When did you first start writing songs?
I was 14 or 15. At that point, I listened to a lot of Beatles, which was the least cool band you could listen to in the mid to late ’80s in Glasgow. I used to walk home with a friend of mine and we’d try to play Beatles songs but we couldn't work them out, so instead we wrote our own songs with the chords that we knew: G, A, and D. So, we played songs with all three chords and then he got a four-track and we started recording songs.

I read somewhere that Snoop Dogg had interest in working with you.
In fact, someone sent me a link with him being interviewed and singing along to “Take Me Out.” He's an incredibly cool character with some brilliant records. I like the fact that he's looking outside his own genre for inspiration, because that's something we always tried to do as well. I think genres are too distinct — I have a problem with that. I prefer not to fall into any category.

You guys are confident in saying you play pop music.
All we wanted to do was to write good pop songs. It’s weird when you come from an indie or alternative environment where “pop” is such a dirty word. Some of my favorite bands that are the most experimental, innovative, and edgy also played the best pop music: Buzzcocks, the Clash, Nirvana. “Smells Like Teen Spirit” is one of the greatest pop songs ever written! I like the idea that somebody comes away from listening to your song, and they’re humming the tune or dancing as soon as they hear it.

What do you strive for lyrically?
I think the greatest that you can strive for is to try to represent the fluency and the easiness of everyday language without resorting to clichés and making it sound like it's an everyday phrase. I try to make it a phrase of words that have never been combined together before.

You taught English for a little bit in college. What was that like?
I taught English to asylum seekers that had just arrived in Glasgow. It must’ve been this time, two years ago, when I had to decide whether I was going to leave with the band or continue teaching.

How was making that decision?
It was actually really hard, because even when someone is going to put your record out, it doesn't mean you’re going to have any success. And I really did enjoy teaching.

Did you have any moral conflicts leaving the job?
Yeah, interestingly, I did. I sat and thought about it quite a lot, because in a way I felt horribly selfish, because it did seem like a terribly self-indulgent thing to do — to play and write music. I did walk about from it feeling a bit like crap because the work I was doing before had a bit more value to it. But I think if you get an opportunity to record an album, you've really got to take the chances. I mean, it’s all I desperately wanted to do since I was 14.

What’s the worst job you’ve ever had?
The worst I ever had, seemed like the best job I ever had when I started. When I was 22, I dressed up in a prison uniform with a mask on and chased people around with a chainsaw in a haunted house. For a while, it was brilliant because I got paid what seemed like so much, like $7.50 an hour [laughs]. The first two weeks were great fun. I couldn't believe people were paying me to do it. After three to four weeks it became such a drag. Sometimes really rough kids would come in, freak out, and try to fight me!

Do you remember your first show in America?
The first time I came here was the beginning of December or end of November 2003. We played Pianos in New York to about 40 people. I thought it was incredible that 40 people had heard of us to come to see us! It was really funny, because there were all these signs on the wall that said, “Thank you for not dancing.” It was brilliant. So after every song, we'd say, “Thank you for not dancing.”

That was only two years ago. Now you’ll be playing Madison Square Garden this fall.
Not even two years. It’s nuts, isn't it? In some ways, so much has happened, so much extreme stuff that you can't really absorb what's been going on. It’s almost like reading somebody else's memoirs; you think, “Did I really do all that stuff?’ But it's been exciting, thrilling, no complaints whatsoever.

What was it like being at the Grammys?
That was truly surreal. When we first heard about it, we were like, “This sounds like the biggest wank-off we've heard of in our lives!” But it ended up being really good. It was bizarre because you look down at the audience and you see Led Zeppelin and Usher and Kris Kristofferson and all these crazy characters. We were backstage and Nick was standing beside Ricky Martin and he turned around to get Bob to take his picture. Nick was like, “No way! It’s me beside Ricky Martin! Isn’t that funny?” And Ricky Martin was standing there looking sort of puzzled.

Tabloid culture is extreme over in the U.K. Have you ever fallen victim to it?
Every element in British culture is plagued by it. Once I said I’d wanted record my album at home, and reporters went to my flat in Glasgow and told my neighbors we were going to record the album in my flat and my neighbors went nuts and said, “You can't record it here! (laughs) Some other time, they got their hands on a baby picture of me. Some local paper phoned my grandmother and said, “Have you got any pictures of Alex as a baby?” So weird!

What does your family think of your music and fame?
They like the tunes … there's a slight hint of irony about it, because though my parents got me my first guitar, they spent most of my teenage years and subsequent adult life trying to discourage me and [telling me] to do something else other than music. It’s sort of odd now, because I don’t want to turn around and say, “I told you so.” That would be terrible, but it does nip at the back of my head.

What kind of kid were you?
Not sporty at all. I was quite awkward and not exactly a huge rebel. I wasn’t smashing stuff up, but I definitely was a sort of misfit. I always wanted to be different. It would be nice to go back to my 14-year-old self and say, “All those anxieties will be pretty irrelevant. It’s going to be all right.”