Interview with Franz Ferdinand for 'The Human Fear'

Interviewing someone with a Scottish accent is always an arduous yet fun undertaking. If the interlocutor then mentions at a certain point Hello beautiful (“we played a few bars of it at a concert in Italy once, and people went crazy”) the matter becomes almost surreal. It's hard not to find Alex Kapranos instantly likeable: communicative, enthusiastic, open. The exact opposite of the image of the dapper and snooty alternative rock star, all complete with tailoring and pop art references, that somehow he and Franz Ferdinand have always conveyed.

We reach him in his Parisian home, where he lives with his French wife (and musician) to have a chat starting from the new album – the sixth studio album – by the Glasgow group. The Human Fear it is an excellent album which, beyond the changes in the lineup (it is the first recorded with the new drummer Audrey Tait), reiterates with class and conviction the stylistic features of the band, as we have known them since we listened Darts of Pleasurethe first single released 22 years ago.

The title of the first single from the album is Audacious. How much audacity is there still in Franz Ferdinand, more than twenty years after your debut?
I still hope a lot. Indeed, I am convinced that ours is still a bold approach to making music. Being artists and performers requires an ineradicable degree of audacity, which does not diminish over the years. But let's be clear: by this I don't mean wanting to brag, or impress the public by trying to be something you're not. Exactly the opposite: audacity lies in remaining faithful to one's identity. Guard it, in a certain sense. Without following trends that aren't for you, without hiding behind a veneer of fake modernity. Evolving, of course, is important, but maintaining your voice. The artists I love most are those who manage to do it with grace and naturalness. Like Nick Cave, for example: what could be further from the grandiose, peaceful ballads of his latest records and the viciousness of the Birthday Party? Yet it's still him. Or PJ Harvey. I saw her in concert at the Olympia in Paris, a year ago, the theatrical setting of her live show is very far from that wild girl with the guitar that I saw for the first time more than thirty years ago, but in the refined performer Today, however, I always recognize his spirit. Accepting your identity is liberating. Franz Ferdinand is always the same: we are a rock'n'roll band you can dance to. But on every record we still try to go places we've never been, to challenge ourselves.

However, in this way of remaining in line with who we are – whether we are artists or not – insecurities and fears can often infiltrate. And here we come to the album title, The Human Feara phrase that is also taken up in the text of Hooked. Here too, as with the concept of audacity, it seems to me that you understand fear in a potentially positive sense. It came to mind Fear Is a Man's Best Friend by John Cale…
I thought about it too. There is a difference: Cale defined terror as a kind of alarm system, to warn it means to be put on alert. I mean it in a less mechanical way, in the sense that nothing can make you feel more alive than the looming sensation of fear, just as conversely nothing can paralyze you more than being overwhelmed by it. Surrendering to anguish is the definitive defeat. Fears are part of the human experience. Fear of the future and changes, which is what he's talking about Hooked. Fear of being judged by those around you, as in The Birds. Or that of being hospitalized, which is the theme of The DoctorWhile Night or Day is centered on the fear of losing the one you love.

Can we call it a concept, then, or does the word scare you, um?
No, no, better not to use that term (laughs). In my entire career I have never even tried to think in terms of concepts, it's a creative method that locks you in a cage. What almost always happens to me, however, is that at the end of the creative process, when the songs are all there in black and white, I notice a recurring theme. In fact the text of Hooked it was the last one I wrote, when I realized how much the theme of fear recurred in the other songs. But that song is also about my son and the two things are obviously connected. I became a father at over 50 and obviously it was an experience that turned my world upside down. Clearly you have a lot of fears: will I be able to face a similar change at this age? It was wonderful to realize how all those insecurities are swept away by this wave of love that overwhelms you and for which you are absolutely not prepared. And then the fears are put into perspective, you realize how often they are irrational. Imagine that before my son was born I was terrified of the idea of ​​lack of sleep, now I think: «Christ, Alex, your whole life is centered on lack of sleep, in 2004 you slept two hours a night, what do you want it to be? » (laughs).

Musically the album seems very in line with that Franz Ferdinand identity you were talking about before. With some interesting digressions, such as the Mediterranean/Balkan flavor of a piece like Black Eyelashes.
That song has a flavour Greek, because, hey, I have a flavour Greek! Unlike my father, who was born in Greece, mine is a derived Greekness. The song is a metaphor about my search for an elusive identity that I will never fully possess. Because when I go to Greece, no matter how hard I try to speak the language and behave like a Greek, I always come off as a Scot (laughs). Musically, that type of modal progressions occasionally surfaced in our songs in the past too, for example in the previous album in a song like Lazy Boy. But here I wanted to explain it more explicitly.

Franz Ferdinand will be at the Fabrique in Milan on February 20th. Press photo

Speaking of origins and roots, how do you experience your relationship with Glasgow today? How important was it for Franz Ferdinand to come from a city like that?
Glasgow is still home, and will always remain so. I've lived in New York, London, now I split my time between Paris and Glasgow. I love that city in all its aspects, from the shitty weather to its architecture. I feel lucky to have grown up in a place with such a strong, yet diverse musical history. What I've always liked about the Glasgow scene is that there's never been… one scene. Unlike other cities such as Liverpool with the Mersey sound or Manchester with Madchester, Glasgow is not defined by a particular genre. Orange Juice were very different from Teenage Fanclub, Arab Strap from Primal Scream, Simple Minds from Belle & Sebastian. And Franz Ferdinand from everyone. Jokes aside, what runs through all the great music that's come out of Glasgow is attitude. That mixture of concreteness and attitude no bullshit mixed with intellectual and poetic aspirations, something that I think comes from the fact that Glasgow is an industrial city with a very strong working class component, but it is also home to one of the most important British universities. In any case, we are and will always be the exact opposite of London.

You're a band born in Glasgow, but also a band born in the early years of the millennium. Looking back, do you feel lucky to have started at that time?
I could tell you yes for the simple fact that in 2004 CDs were still being sold and somehow, even without making the boom like what happened to us with our first album, we were able to pay the rent by being an indie musician. But even now, when I go to hear new bands live, I find the same energy and aspirations that we had 20 or 25 years ago. The visceral power of music, what moves you when you're 18 as well as when you're 52 like me, is something that goes beyond clichés about growing old. I remember seeing Leonard Cohen in concert shortly before he died. He was old, frail, but it was 100% him. So yes, it was lucky to have started in years that were easier for musicians than the current ones, but I believe that if we started today we would have the same drive of then.

The current difficulties you mentioned are however an unavoidable issue when it comes to making music today. Indeed, I often have the impression that these days we spend more time discussing the music ecosystem rather than the music itself. What do you think?
You are right. We always and only talk about streaming, AI, the disappearance of media, economic difficulties in going on tour and so on. My reaction, in the end, is that I don't want to think about it. Compared to when we started, everything has changed, and almost everything negatively. But that's what I said before about the concept of fear: I don't want to be paralyzed by it. What will never change is my desire to create music, to play it on stage. That's what makes me feel alive. So fuck everything else. Then it is obvious that in some way artists today must find a way to react to the state of things, I say this precisely in trade union terms. We need to come together and find solutions to address the exploitation of assholes like Daniel Ek (the CEO of Spotify, ed) and characters of his ilk. People who make the unscrupulous record companies of the 50s and 60s look like saints. As for the AI… oh god, don't get me started. I've heard a few AI generated things, so far it's just scary garbage. I'm surrounded by people passionate about technology who continually extol these incredible horizons of innovation, then I hear stuff AI generated and I say to myself: no, come on, are you kidding me?

We end on a light note. On Franz Ferdinand's Wikipedia page I read a funny phrase: “They brought the fringe back into fashion in men's hairdressing.”
Ha ha, we could afford it at the time. Now we're too balding to launch hairstyle trends. Not bad, though, as a way to go down in history. Although I would prefer that in fifty years we were remembered for being a rock'n'roll band different from all the others.