But when that bullet struck Franz Ferdinand and touched off a war, it also got the flappers flapping and the jivers jiving. It was the dawn of the Jazz Age -- some people credit Prohibition and those bathtubs full of gin, but how does that explain how jazz got so popular in Weimar, Germany, where the beer and schnapps flowed unchecked? At any rate, today four young men have adopted the slain Austro-Hungarian leader's name and now taunt us with disco dance beats and sturdy, sturdy songwriting.
And were the times better stateside, if we had wooden Al in the White House and Sept. 11 had been foiled, FF would likely be only a European phenomenon, like the Stone Roses and the Happy Mondays and all that Madchester stuff that never crossed the pond with any force.
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The band's next radio single is "Michael" -- a song so wrought with homoerotic undertones they've become overtones. It's as though Alex and his buddies are daring us to fight the current and teasing us with a life vest made of this song.
"Yeah," Franz Ferdinand taunts, "what if it is about sucking cock? Try. Not. To. Dance."
It's almost enough to make you hope for Four! More! Years!
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