FFS, the double-decker supergroup comprised of eccentric LA elder statesmen Sparks and relatively youthful Scottish rockers Franz Ferdinand, was only officially unveiled three months ago. But already the collaboration seems like an inspired evolution for two art-pop brands each arguably a little past their prime. They may be separated in age by three decades but they’ve slotted together seamlessly, even quite sweetly, to create something new and genuinely exciting.
FFS’s recent eponymous album, apparently years in the planning, was hammered out in just three weeks, an energised collection of bohemian rhapsodies that, reviews agree, is the best thing either band has done in years. The only remaining question seemed to be: could FFS sound as much fun live? Horsing around in a studio is one thing, but performing in front of an audience, caught in the basilisk gaze of Sparks keyboardist Ron Mael fully in character, might be quite another.
Perhaps to give Franz a home advantage, FFS’s first proper gig ahead of a European tour brings them to Glasgow’s sold-out Art School. The six men take the stage to the stirring strains of the Blake’s 7 theme and launch into Police Encounters, a twitchy, veering fizzbomb of a song, its nonsense chorus of “bom-bom-diddy-diddy” carved up and batted between Russell Mael and Alex Kapranos. Thanks to the already lean nature of both bands, bolting Sparks and Franz together doesn’t create any overlaps save when it comes to frontmen : it is fascinating to witness Mael and Kapranos exploring in real time how best to parcel out a joint performance; they swap lyrics, double up on key lines and cheerfully egg each other into even more theatrical gestures.
By the third song, The Man Without A Tan, Kapranos has graduated to kung-fu kicks, while a stony faced keyboard solo from Ron Mael is greeted by disproportionately loud cheers. They rattle through the majority of the FFS album, its melodic immediacy an immense advantage, though the order is riffled so that much-discussed Collaborations Don’t Work becomes a gig tentpole. A frenetic epic that escalates through genres, in-jokes and registers towards a manic climax, it’s already FFS’s calling card.
For 90 minutes, the well-tailored supergroup never stray too far from a pop hook, pogo bounce or catchy singalong. Callbacks to separate back catalogues are split evenly, and if the wiry Franz engine room of guitarist Nick McCarthy, bassist Bob Hardy and drummer Paul Thomson experience any nervous increase in heartbeat while playing the iconic This Town Ain’t Big Enough For the Both of Us, it certainly doesn’t show.
An encore of Sparks’ 1979 disco-derived The Number One Song in Heaven is stretched to incorporate an unexpected but joyous breakdance routine and modulates into Franz’s urgent, lurching freakout Michael. Such adept fusing of two of their older songs seems like a fitting metaphor for FFS as a whole, but there’s an even more evocative snapshot during the lockstep electronica of So Desu Ne, a moment when Russell, Kapranos, McCarthy and Hardy all crowd around a keyboard to add their own synth curlicues. Ron Mael just looks on, seemingly unimpressed, but you suspect art-pop’s Demon Headmaster is smiling on the inside. FFS have set a new gold standard for the wholesale supergroup. McBusted will simply have to raise their game.
At Troxy, London (29 June - tel 0844 249 1000), then touring. Details: www.ffsmusic.com
