After over 20 years fronting one of the most popular and more enduring bands from the 2000s, Alex Kapranos is still seeking acknowledgment and acceptance. “You know I’m here waiting for you,” he sang back in 2004 from the dim corners of the club on “Take Me Out”, whereas in 2025 he is requesting their love to “tell me I should stay here”. Though they have made a name out of that metrosexual, angular art school nightlife swagger, in the 20 years since they released their debut self-titled album, Kapranos has always been reckoning with existence, like a shadow slowly creeping in on the spotlight.
Never has his anxiety about love, life, and what it is to be human been as clearly on show as it is on Franz Ferdinand’s sixth album, The Human Fear. Their first album that feels like it has a bonafide concept and theme threading it together (apart from maybe Tonight, which had a loose throughline of a hard night out and its after effects), it has Kapranos showing a little more vulnerability than he has before. “Fear reminds you that you’re alive. I think we all are addicted in some way to the buzz it can give us. How we respond to it shows how we are human,” he explains of the album.
“There’s no one to save us / so just carry on,” he declares smoothly on opening track “Audacious”, like a self-affirmation to keep on truckin’, while on “Night or Day” the limits and wear of his voice show as he declares “I want to live a life with you.” Years ago Franz Ferdinand would be trying for a quick snog around the back of the bikesheds, but instead on The Human Fear we get fatalistic sentiments like “kiss me while I’m still here.”
A little insecurity is no bad thing though, and it certainly does stay accusations that the band are just trying to grasp at former glory and thrills over and over (which 2013’s Right Thoughts, Right Words, Right Action arguably did too much). Playing to their strengths while also stepping outside of the box has served Franz Ferdinand well, and it’s why Tonight’s electronic lean and Always Ascending’s disco-tinge and sonic experimentation helped keep a candle burning for the band that has survived where others have withered away. For the most part though, the lyrical theme is about all that is interesting about their new album. Instead of character studies or short vignettes, The Human Fear may quietly boast more, well, human songwriting, but it’s also coupled with some of the safest and blandest music they have churned out.
There are some exceptions, even though they won’t shoot to the top of any future best of collection (2022’s Hits To the Head showed they already have an abundance to pick from, and few here would challenge any of the 20 tracks on that compilation). Lead single “Audacious” might evoke Angles-era Strokes with its needley guitar riff, but the soft brass colouring the edges and contrasting chorus evokes the spirit of You Could Have It So Much Better. “Build It Up”’s hook is something between the stomp of “No You Girls” and a nursery rhyme but it’s still a catchy earworm, while closing track “The Birds” creates a welcome fracas of post-punk noise that sadly wraps up too quickly.
But alongside these slightly sparkling numbers are songs that range from achingly monochrome to satisfactory mid-range tracks from the band. Zippy “The Doctor” is like an offcut from their Sparks collaboration FFS, “Bar Lonely” and “Everydaydreamer” have Kapranos sounding disconnected and bored, and aforementioned “Night or Day” feels (perhaps fittingly) lacking in any colour. Is the timpani and Beach Boys-like chorus of “Tell Me I Should Stay” all a bit too much without the epic musical theatre conclusion it yearns for? Is the sleazy EDM synth and grimey feel on “Hooked” a little too gauche for its own good? Does the Balkan-inspired oddity “Black Eyelashes” tiptoe too far away from a meaningful impact? That may fall either side depending on your Franz Ferdinand preferences, and while a little experimentation is no bad thing, 20 years in it does feel like the band should be making surer steps, even if the footwear is new.
Granted the band aren’t what they once were – literally; only two of the original lineup remain after drummer Paul Thomson left in 2021. So is it fair to expect the same of them over two decades on? Their last record did try to push the boat out in a few directions, and while not everything worked, the moments that were successful captured that excitement and feverish vim from the band’s early days. That spark is still there, but it’s dim on The Human Fear, asking for some patience and time from listeners; spin the album many times and it’ll sound good enough, even though it feels like it has twisted your arm.
There’s a lyric that sticks out on the bouncy “Cats”: ”They’ll never turn a cat into a dog,” Kapranos chimes. Is this him poking fun at himself? A self-admission of unwillingness to change? (“I have a good bed here / I don’t want to leave here,” from “The Doctor” echoes much the same sentiment.) Accepting their fate that they will always be the band people expect them to be does explain why we have another mid-range-to-lacking Franz Ferdinand album. Consider a recent cover the band did of Chappel Roan’s unstoppable smash “Good Luck, Babe!” In the middle of an adequate pub cover-band rendition of the song they throw in the riff from their own biggest hit, “Take Me Out”. It’s like Franz Ferdinand need to remind everyone of who they are and reestablish their relevance while working away. At this point, for better or worse, this is what we can expect from the band: shades of what came before, a glint of the glory days, and a workmanlike determination to soldier on. Kapranos admitting he’s got the fear, it seems, doesn’t change too much.
