Divorce at High Noon (Roadrunner)
One of the reasons that Franz Ferdinand moved from obscurity to world domination at such a pace is that they seemed to arrive fully formed. Not for them the ill-advised image “experiments” and dodgy second singles that traditionally dog a group’s early career. But that is because they committed such indiscretions with previous bands.
The Karelia — a curious, jazz-tinged indie group with a theatrical bent — are the skeleton in the singer Alex Kapranos’s closet (or plain old Alex Huntley, as he was known then). This is their 1997 debut, reissued to cash in on post-Franz demand that has original copies changing hands for upwards of £50. Inevitably, it’s not worth that much. The Karelia had some of FF’s art (similarly quirky time signatures predominate, while Kapranos’ trademark playful vocals clearly kicked in early), but little of their style. The songs are endearingly sweet and simple, but too often they are spoiled by a tendency towards studenty humour that at one point sees our hero chanting: “Everybody loves a loony, loonies are so mad.”
Still, hardcore Franz fans will be amused by this charming juvenilia, even if their post-Brits admirers will be utterly bemused. The rest of us can simply take comfort in the proof that Kapranos is fallible after all.
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Mark Sutherland