Revisit of the Week: FFS - FFS (2015)
Revisit of the last two weeks, really. Life's been exhausting and I simply didn't have the time last week. In fact, I think the next revisit of the week is going to be another 2-week stint as well as I want to write some other blog entries as well - I've got ideas beyond the couple of standard ones I spam around.
But as for today's entry... well, do you remember when Franz Ferdinand and Sparks had a collaboration going together? The two bands had pronounced their love for each other's projects all the way back when Franz Ferdinand released their debut album and they even had light chatter about working together at that time, but it took over a decade until the paths of the quirky US art pop icons and the lackadaisy Scottish post-punk group crossed while both entities had clear time in their busy calendars. An album was made, released to positive comments, and then everyone promptly forgot about it. Supergroups are a curse because the inclusion of all the familiar names seems to only make people disregard them by default, as if it's perverse for established artist to stray from their own journeys and work together with other established artists for an entire album cycle; after both bands separated and continued with their own respective cult audience careers, FFS has barely crossed anyone's lips.
What if I told you that this is a bit of a hidden gem?
Sparks provide the... Sparks-ness: the songwriting is very distinguishable as the handiwork of the brothers Mael, from the eccentric melodies to the equally curious lyrics which are either built around wordplay or which are centered around particularly unique character studies, and sometimes both. The songs could much more easily have found their home in a Sparks album than a Franz Ferdinand one, and the temptation would be to say that the Scottish lads end up featuring as a glorified backing band for their revered heroes. But what a backing band: the groove and the bounciness is all identifiably Franz Ferdinand, in a manner that Sparks could have never replicated on their own. It really is a perfect marriage that seamlessly merges the two acts, with their unique best sides complementing one another with giddy fun. And speaking of marriages, Russell Mael and Alex Kapranos have a marvellous chemistry, their exuberant wink-and-nudge energy chewing the scenery together as they throw lines back and forth or underline each other's harmonies. You can simply visualise both of them preening like peacocks on stage, equal parts theatre camp and rock and roll cool. Nowhere is this more obvious than the grand statement piece of this collaboration, "Collaborations Don't Work", where Kapranos and Mael (and all the other four people involved, as well) trade zingers ("I don't need your patronizing! I don't need your agonizing!") about the futility and inconsequentiality of working together as the song shifts in genres and grandeur. Of course an album created by the combined force of two irony-soaked forces would feature this as its big statement. And of course it's then followed by a song telling everyone to piss off, as the album comes to an end.
FFS is such a delightful, cunning, sharp and charming pop album - constantly shifting gears in creative madness, but always finding something delightful in the odd corners it digs into. It's a genuinely noteworthy addition to both bands' discographies and while it proved to be a one-off (in fact, this was the last album featuring FF's classic four-piece line-up), that kind of works for it. It's a curious individual phenomenon that popped out, made a splash and then ran away leaving you wanting for more. And, weirdly, if it wasn't borderline treated as a suspicious creature of some sort thanks to its supergroup appearance, it probably would be more recognised.
A final aside just on the CD copy I have, which is the deluxe edition. The 2010s was this weird period where between streaming taking over as the primary means of music consumption and the impending rise of vinyl taking up the physical space, different labels started experimenting with how to present CDs and we have a number of miniature trends crop up. In the mid-2000s this was the appearance of CD "deluxe editions" which were anything but - usually they were the only available version you could find. The FFS album was one such case and I don't think I have ever come across a "standard" version of it anywhere - I even checked Discogs and I was genuinely shocked to find out that a version with just the 12 base songs exists. But anyway, I've got four additional songs tacked on at the end of this and they make a decent set of outtakes, though none of them challenge anything on the actual album. But it does mean that I own effectively everything FFS ever did in one handy package.
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