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The success of any remix or collaborative project can be as easily attributed to luck as it can be to the controllable and timely fusion of complimentary artists. The dense but danceable electronica of Scott Herren's Prefuse 73 project, a digital hip-hop steamroller of sorts, provides a deep and regularly-but-not-predictably spinning roulette wheel over which the treble and glitch-heavy Books move adroitly like a bouncing ball.
The compositions are simply numbered (uno - ocho) and are evenly balanced making it hard to imagine the album as a pure remix. The feel is one of mutual benefit, Herren's populist 808 bottom line and aggressively structured MC splicing is given the benefit of a larger cerebrum and softer edge via The Books, while The Books often oblique lack of structure is remedied nicely by some straightforward beats.
The eight song "ep" is rewarding enough in its texture and depth to play like an LP, leaving the active listener sated but wanting more and the casual bystander curious and unoffended. For those looking to get into The Books, this is less like Cliff's Notes and more like the critically acclaimed film adaptation by a kinder, gentler Prefuse 73.
It is okay to be a little disappointed if Franz Ferdinand turns out to be another plastic pop band churning out ad-ready futbol anthems begging for the remix treatment before being shoveled onto every dance floor west of Berlin. Their eponymous self titled debut broke from the waning garage-glam revival and set them apart from the burgeoning disco-punk and New New Wave scenes with a sound that is at once accessible and complex, plus there’s the whole WWI name checking thing. It is also okay to still like this album, because they’re a really good plastic pop band, and they’re churning out grade “A” futbol anthems and dance floor rave-ups.
The biggest departure on “So Much Better” is a more nationalist focus on brit-pop. They easily quote everyone from The Beatles to Blur and back again, checking in with The Clash (of course), Bowie, Supergrass, Pulp, Stone Roses, and Suede. If there is any style of pop music particularly well liked in the UK (ska, reggae, techno, punk, folk…) it is represented here providing a greater variety of sounds from song to song and a sort of musical tour of the Queen’s near dominion through the eyes and ears of Franz Ferdinand.
They are largely trading in their sexual ambiguity and dark fun time for sold out arena sized dance hall fun - and perhaps the wad of cash that should come with it. But don’t worry, the band never strays far from what they do best. There are plenty of racing high-hats, dueling guitars and “surprise, now your dancing” mid-song tempo shifts. Don’t miss the second track “Do You Want To” before you hear its Gary Glitter-on-speed grandeur and “My Sharona” break all over the World Series or Superbowl or VW and iPod ads it’s bound to soundtrack in a minute or two.
“If we were feckless we’d be fine…” or so they say on “What You Meant.” Franz Ferdinand might like you to believe that this is all simply meant to be a bigger brand of fun, but the guys are hardly without feck. Everything has its place, from the playing to packaging, and there is as much art in their business as there is business in their art. While the debut made me feel smart and sweaty - and a little guilty in a “maybe I want to come and dance with you, Michael” kind of way this time I’m just sweaty – and a little guilty, but in a “Duran Duran really was a pretty good band” kind of way.
