FRANZ FERDINAND--I'M ALIVE...AND HOW I KNOW IT!

The eponymous debut album from Scottish quartet Franz Ferdinand begins simple, a folk lament with hushed flamenco overtones reminiscent of Belle and Sebastien. But oh how "Jacqueline" has surprises in store, indicative of the rest of the disc as a whole. After the gentle acoustic interlude twinged with romantic regret, the bass rumbles with almost volcanic intent followed by the chortling of Ferdinand's schizophrene two pronged guitar attack, incessant drumming as the haunting ditty about a romantic argonaut relieving himself the mental apraxia of a love wrecked takes smashing shape. "Come on! Kick me again!" lead singer Alex Kapranos exhorts over a fusillade of musical frenzy, daring listeners to bask in his misery. "I'm so drunk I don't mind if you kill me."

Music to squash the amorous demons hasn't sounded this fresh and joyously entertaining in years. If Franz Ferdinand have emerged as this year's most promising success story (Not counting Ashley Simpson ofcourse), it isn't through anything musically revolutionary. Made up of aforementioned singer/guitarist Kapranos, guitarist Nick McCarthy, bassist Bob Hardy and Paul Thomson on the skins, the group's sound--a rock baptistery of Berlin era Bowie meshed with the disco intonations of "Different Class" era Pulp--is layered over eleven tracks of romantic abandon and hitting the town in search of the next fleeting conquest.

But damn if the songs don't pulse with the unflagging sensation of spinning out of control under a mirror ball all for the sake of capturing the spirit of a single moment of pleasure. Franz Ferdinand have the momentum of youth on their side, and it shows in such joie de vivre mini suites as album opener "Jacqueline" and the ecstatic "Take Me Out." The latter track, concerning an apparent clubgoer's chagrin at not having the will to approach a fantasy girl ("I know I won't be leaving here with you"), by virtue of its thumping rhythm section, emerges as probably the best and purest rock song in years. The campy zest of the retro sound and contagious dance essence (If viewers don't find their hips wiggling with Travolta fervour during this magnificent song, they're helplessly tone deaf) makes it impossible not to loosen listener inhibitions.

The romantic leanings take center stage for most of the album, and are accorded various degrees of melancholy (The lovely "Auf Achse" with a morose keyboard motif played by McCarthy), mischief (The comic "Cheating On You"), homoeroticism ("Michael") or fear of commitment. On the excellent track "Come on Home" Kapranos plaintively sings "Although my lover lives/In a place that I can't live/I kind of find I like a life this lonely." This feeling of not being able to settle down to a life of satisfaction is further explored in highlight "The Dark of the Matinee." An incantation about stardom, Kapranos cheekily sings "So I'm on BBC2 now telling Terry Wogan how I made it/What I made is unclear now."

In the dance hall and romantic louse metaphors that permeate FRANZ FERDINAND, satisfactions only exist at a moment's notice. Turn around or blink an eye and the moment's gone, only to be reclaimed at a later time. But for now listeners have this tremendously enjoyable album to guide them to the sound of a raucous nightlife, an album of surprises and giddy excitement. Album of the year.