The band that go by the name of Franz Ferdinand have had a rather spectacular 2004. Going from alternative underdogs with a limited cult audience at the start of the year, they ended 2004 and began 2005 as the biggest band in the nation, seemingly adored by everybody from the media to the alternative hipsters who declare what things are cool to your average record buying public. Even my mother likes to tap her foot to Franz Ferdinand, a quite amazing fact given that she hardly ever likes any of my music (well, apart from the Bowie and Blondie she listened to in her youth). While this says that Franz Ferdinand are admittedly a 'safe' band to admit to liking by your local freak without fear of a beating from the local school bully, it also is testament to their cross-cultural appeal.

The initially low-key 'Jacqueline' begins with a soothing, lilting pace and a spoken word intro reminiscent of Jarvis Cocker at his most mordant but this is a deceiving intro to a clever album as soon enough the bass starts to rumble until the song builds to a crashing crescendo. The album is a veritable of statement of intent of what is to come, a mixture of taut guitars and extremely danceable beats, bouncy tunes with a darker side, a bit rough around the edges. 'Jacqueline' hints at a lyricism with a naturally sharp wit, Kapranos announcing drolly "I'm alive/And how I know it/But for chips and for freedom/I could die". The band follow in the vein of kitchen-sink working class melodrama that has served bands like Squeeze, Pulp and Blur, and, to a lesser extent, the likes of Dubstar and Menswear, so well. 'Tell Her Tonight', with its darkly disco hi-hat drums, has the same effervescent bounce while also hinting at something darker and esoteric alternative, an unorthodox yet catchy number with wonderful singalong harmonies.

'The Dark Of The Matinee' (complete with Terry Wogan reference) doesn't hold up on the frantic pace already established. An ode to romantic overtures during an arthouse movie, the song is undeniably catchy and memorable. It has a wry sense of humour, like much of the album, reminiscent of 'Different Class'-era Pulp. The band have said that from the very beginning their sole intention was to 'make music to make girls dance', and 'The Dark Of The Matinee' validates this manifesto with brilliant verve and style.

'Michael' is quite a curious beast because it has led to the band, or rather, frontman Alex Kapranos, accused of being gay. Indeed, taken at face value, 'Michael' seems to be a straightforward love song to a man (and quite a dirty little song at that), but this belies a sly, sneaky sense of humour, which is thankful as when bands usually stab at sexual ambiguity (usually under the umbrella of playing 'characters', such a pretentious concept, for which we have Bowie to blame) the results seem more like a lecture from the pulpit rather than a song. Thankfully, Franz have the verve to pull it off. (In any case, the band have admitted in interviews that it is based on a man in their hometown (bet he loves them now…).

The band's appeal lies in their ability to be many things to many people. Franz can write love songs without sounding wimpy. They can be angry without sounding forced. They can be clever without being over-bearing or pretentious. It has an art school wit that Bryan Ferry would be proud of while also sounding very 'of the people' and having a universal appeal. And they certainly can rock out with the best of them. It's an album that evokes some very fine bands (Television, Gang of Four, The Fall, early Elvis Costello, Talking Heads) while simultaneously sounding fresh and original, like nothing ever heard before, an alien descended from the planet Franz to invade our radios and steal our children. It is eminently listenable and the lyrics are tremendously intelligent, while the melodies ensure that the songs are thoroughly danceable. They are a band for both the feet and the grey matter within our skulls, a rare combination in modern music, and a most welcome one. Franz Ferdinand have created a memorable and, dare I say it, timeless album which has such zealous self-confidence that it should rightfully be considered as one of the best British albums of recent years, and over time this status will grow with the band's reputation.