Following a seven-year hiatus from the studio, Scottish rockers Franz Ferdinand are back with The Human Fear. The album’s disjointed nature fascinates me, not just because it features a smorgasbord of styles and textures but also because it sounds somewhat limp despite the dense, expansive production and clinical songcraft.
Franz Ferdinand try to fuse homespun eccentricity with stadium bombast and, in their efforts, come out with an unsatisfactory cocktail lacking both scope and conceptual theme. It has some unique flavors and a dazzling exhibition of bass guitar, not forgetting the genuinely brilliant “Audacious”, which opens the record with great pomp and energy. But for the most part, The Human Fear is a mediocre, occasionally disappointing work that fails to match the standard set by their first four albums.
The gently paced pop-rock ballad “The Doctor” is graced by a bouncy drum pattern that recalls the bubble-gum fills of the early Beach Boys singles. That is swiftly followed by the riff-heavy “Hooked”, a number where singer Alex Kapranos abandons his usual stoic performance style for a more limber and smoldering vocal delivery. Sensually sung, the singer is supported by a choppy rhythm section, producing a captivating sound reminiscent of a burlesque piece. Unfortunately, the track is let down by some shoddy lyrics: “I thought I knew what love was / And then I met you” is hardly scintillating poetry set to stadium rock.
“Build It Up” leans into Kapranos’ gentler side as a composer, utilizing a metaphor of growth to develop the protagonist’s great love, recalling John Lennon‘s “Mind Games” as it does so. The country-tinged “Cats” is dotted by Bob Hardy’s jaunty, toe-tapping bass, while “Black Eyelashes” is practically an assault on the listener. It’s an aggressive salvo of guitar, bass, drum, and barrelhouse piano, flooding the vicinity with tremendous gusto. I suspect these two numbers will work best with audiences when they inevitably tour this record.
The chorus-heavy “Bar Lonely” plays like an early hit for the Scottish outfit, albeit with much sloppier lyrics, and the vocals lack the conviction and lust Kapranos effortlessly demonstrated during 2005’s You Could Have It So Much Better. “Night Or Day” opens promisingly with a balletic piano part that could be either Kapranos or bandmate Julian Corrie before changing direction into a honky-tonk sing-along track overladen with instrumentation and bravura. “Everydaydreamer” chugs along to an infectious bass groove, although the other members are given scarce little to do throughout the three-minute runtime.
The record momentarily gets back on course with “Tell Me I Should Stay”, a heartfelt, yearning number that ratchets up the melodic quotient, giving The Human Fear a melancholic, mature feeling as it does so. If the work has a theme, it is hard to deduce on first listening, and the impression on this occasion is that the record feels sloppily pieced together, directionless, and devoid of much-needed quality control from Franz Ferdinand.
Judging the songs on their individual merits, they have their value: “Audacious” spirals under the weight of an intense drum pattern, as a captivating brass line counters the muscle. In this song, Franz Ferdinand successfully capture the light and shade that differentiates great rock from average tunes. Perhaps the songs will benefit from a live setting; the drums, somewhat undermixed on the album, can take this as a chance to showcase every aspect of the kit.
Or maybe the future will show The Human Fear for what it is: a band warming up after a seven-year hiatus, relaxing to write worthier follow-ups. Listening to it in 2025, this patchy work frequently flirts with brilliance, momentarily engaging with excellence before returning to the meandering rhythms that make up the finished set.