Bite Hard

Let it be known far and wide, or at least as far as this blog reaches, that Andrew Hauser is a rocker, and he was there with me in the beginning. The beginning of the end of my life without Franz Ferdinand.

When 2004 was brand new we rocked the crap out of the U.K. on our humble J-Term study abroad semester, Literary London. The only part of that trip I remember involving literature, by the way, was that Isaac Belcher loathed the Bronte sisters so intensely that he threw their books out of the third or fourth story window of our Edinburgh hostel. Okay, so, by “rocked” I mean that we air guitared England’s cities, shires, countrysides, it’s darkly mysterious Stonehenge, and on down into France, nearly destroying the Eiffel Tower. But as much as we rocked portions of Western Europe, I was, in turn, rocked harder right back by the end of our short month stay.

It happened in either a Tower or Virgin Records, one of those enlightening moments when you hear something new for the first time while perusing a record store. Having worked in somewhat of a record store myself, moments like that are so satisfying on both ends. The song that caught my attention that January evening was, quite obviously, “Take Me Out,” FF’s first single. I asked the lad at the front counter the name of this rockin’ outfit, and he replied, very simply, with his impeccable English accent, “That’s Franz Ferdiand.” (You have to say that in your head with the accent, it’s enhancing.) Without making it a complete High Fidelity moment, all I said was, “Cool.”

Released January 12, only the Take Me Out single was available for purchase, as the album wasn’t being released, at least in the States, until March. I opted for the 7” (b/w “Truck Stop”) over the CD, as it was cheaper, and when you’re record shopping in London and only buying a single, why not buy the less practical version? Mostly I thought it was far more retro of me, thus making me that much hipper. It also helped start my vinyl collection, so, in hindsight, not at all a poor decision.

And that, dear friends, is how I introduced Franz Ferdinand to the U.S. of A.

Five years later these Scots give us Tonight: Franz Ferdinand, and I’ll admit, upon first listen I wasn’t anywhere close to being in love with it. So I gave it time to grow on me. And I reminded myself how much I loved their first dance party album and their second, more aggressively layered, punk rock dance party album. And after that brief self-pep talk, I realized there was absolutely no reason to dislike their newest, keyboard and bass heavy dance party album.

With that I give you today’s song, “Bite Hard,” a diverse ditty that starts quietly on piano, Kapranos revealing, “You don’t know the pseudonyms I assume / For you.” From there the rock takes over, a steady one-two punch on the drums, simple bass thump, two intermittent guitar plucks a-la Soft Cell’s version of “Tainted Love,” and mini guitar solos that grow increasingly prominent in each verse. The song consistently gets better as it goes, with hot bass walks on the chorus, distorted keyboard interludes, Kapranos’ frantic commands of “We ride together / We die together,” and mini guitar solos galore. All raucously culminating abruptly.

My favorite part is during the second verse when Kapranos coyly admits “No I never resort / To kissing your photo – Honest / I just had to see / How the chemicals taste there honey.”

This song makes me want to air guitar up to Elkhart, join air band forces with Hauser, and take America by storm.
06 Bite Hard.mp3