‘Take Me Out’: How Franz Ferdinand turned a corner for British rock
Millennials, brace yourself. It has now been 21 years since the release of ‘Take Me Out’ by Franz Ferdinand in January 2004.
That’s not the part you need to brace yourself for. After all, modern times have turned the recent past into soup, where everything from 2010 onwards feels between four and eight years ago. Putting things in context: In 2025, talking about ‘Take Me Out’ is like talking about ‘Karma Chameleon’ in 2004. Life comes at you pretty fucking fast now, doesn’t it?
Especially because ‘Take Me Out’ was an absolute watershed moment for British guitar music. For the most part, we’d spent the last ten years in an Oasis-induced post-lunch nap. There had been some bright sparks towards the end of the 1990s. The glory days of Placebo, the commercial peak of the Manic Street Preachers, great records by Pulp, Blur and Radiohead. By the early 2000s, though, three of those bands had sworn off standard guitar music, and the other two had split up. Somehow, Blur did both. In their place, we had bed-wetting Noel-rock hacks like Cast and Starsailor.
Worst of all was how smug the Yanks were getting. Sure, they gave the world nu-metal, so they were also part of the problem. Such is life. In the 2000s, they also gave us The Strokes, and despite establishing the problem, they’d also given us the solution. The Strokes weren’t alone either. They were backed by The Von Bondies, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, and this weird brother-sister duo from Detroit called The White Stripes. Wonder what became of them?
As if to add insult to injury, it seemed as if every other country had their own version of The Strokes. Canada had Death From Above 1979, Hot Hot Heat and Metric. Australia had The Vines and Jet. Hell, even Sweden got in on the act with The Hives, while the closest thing we had was The Darkness. Dark times indeed. Then, finally, we stumbled upon the right band at the right time. A band that brought style, wit and camp back into British rock nearly a decade after Nicky Wire had ditched tennis skirts and eyeliner for tracksuits.
How did Franz Ferdinand’s ‘Take Me Out’ reshape British rock?
The best part of it is that Franz Ferdinand was a real-life, last-ditch success story. Each member of Franz was on or beyond the cusp of 30, and had spent the 1990s in their native Glasgow watching other bands take off around them. Later in the decade, singer and guitarist Alex Kapranos and dummer Paul Thomson met while playing together in indie also-rans Yummy Furs and struck up a close friendship. The Furs came to a tragic end in 1999, which allowed Kapranos and Thomson to form their own band.
The first line-up of Franz Ferdinand was completed with Nick McCarthy on lead guitar and Bob Hardy on bass. The sweet irony of it all was that after spending a whole decade being ignored by the rock scene surrounding them, Franz Ferdinand were something of an overnight success. A little over two years after they formed, they signed to Domino and released their first single, ‘Darts of Pleasure’. A song that gained the band an NME cover declaring them to be “the band that will change your life”. Ever ones for hyperbole, those rascals at the NME, but in this case, they were bang on the money.
January 2004 saw the release of ‘Take Me Out’, and it was an immediate smash hit. After three years of trying, the UK finally had a band to match The Strokes and The Stripes, and what’s more, there was a sign they could do it even better than all of them. Rather than focus on scuzzy rock abandon the way The Hives did or aloof NYC cool like Interpol or the aforementioned Strokes, there was something classically British about Franz. Ironically enough, considering their name.
They tapped into a fun, smart, deliciously flirty side of British rock, the kind that Roxy Music made their name with before them and The Last Dinner Party have ridden to success with today. At the time, this was something very new. British rock had a pained relationship to all kinds of sexuality for a good long while before Franz. It was either tortured and sinful, the way it was with Suede, Placebo and Pulp (to an extent), or absolutely ignored, the way it was with Oasis, Blur and the Manics.
If British rock had swaggered before them, Franz strutted, and the disco-kick of ‘Take Me Out’ is their crowning achievement. That strummed power-chord intro acting as an overture to one of the defining moments of 2000s rock music. The moment where the tempo slowed, those iconic muted hi-hats take centre stage and then one of the best riffs of the century (you heard me) drops. 21 years on, and the moment ‘Take Me Out’ kicks in proper still absolutely kills anywhere you drop it.
However, nostalgia ain’t what it used to be and the 2004 that ‘Take Me Out’ takes me back to is one that did not deliver on the promise set forth. To be clear, this is not an issue with Franz Ferdinand; they’ve been a consistently great band ever since. However, there was a moment where the track could have lead to a future of British rock founded on smart music that was just as fun. Despite the best efforts of the likes of Arctic Monkeys, The Streets and The Libertines, that future really slipped through.
The next generation of British rock was seemingly most inspired by another band who released their debut single in 2003 before breaking out in 2004. Razorlight learned all the wrong lessons from the last ten years of British rock, where Franz Ferdinand learned all the right ones, making music that was somehow both overwrought and aloof. Landfill indie was something that happened despite the best efforts of Franz Ferdinand, not because of them, and don’t you ever forget it.
We’ll always have that moment though, that golden moment of early 2004 where something amazing was happening and ‘Take Me Out’ was the first time that potential burst into life. As always, better to smile because it happened, rather than cry because it’s over.
