Masters of the universe

When you are but a cog - no, a cogette - in the mighty media whirl, you often fantasise about what it must be like to wield great power. For instance, if I were to key the words 'Franz' and 'Ferdinand' into the cuttings library in my computer, could I cause complete system meltdown?

Even limiting the timespan to between the last album release and now, and further restricting the spew of articles from around the world to ones of more than 1,000 words, I still end up with 1,752. "Bloody hell," says Alex Kapranos. His bandmate Bob Hardy is equally impressed.

We're in a studio in Glasgow, which is still the city the foursome call home - despite all the glamour of being the hippest Scottish skiffle combo there has ever been (almost a contradiction in terms, but still a compliment), and despite this shaping up to be the wettest summer day on record.

The deluge of newsprint on FF includes all those features from America, where rock groups are quaintly described in the singular ('Franz Ferdinand is playing the Houston Enormodome, Friday'). All those zeitgeisty opinion columns from this country, where FF get a single mention to illustrate that the writers who correctly predicted the demise of the hula-hoop are still 'with it'. And, most intriguingly, an acknowledgement of FF's omnipotence with a mention in an interview in, of all papers, the Financial Times, with, of all people, former chancellor Denis Healy. "Show us!" demand Kapranos and Hardy in unison.

I quote them the relevant section: "On cue Denis shuffles into the room. His outfit includes a Franz Ferdinand-style grey corduroy jacket and trainers."

"He went to my school," reveals Hardy, the Yorkshire-born bassist.

"So that's where you get your style from," says Kapranos, singer/guitarist/leader, as if unlocking the secret of a great FF mystery/running joke.

Hardy says, "Surely, though, we're 'Denis Healy-style'? After all, he came first."

Kapranos chips in, "I don't think I've ever owned a grey corduroy jacket." (This is Esquire magazine's ninth most-stylish man in the world talking, so he should know).

Hardy says, "He was the indie chancellor. If you bought a record from Rough Trade, you could claim it back against tax."

The pair are on banterish good form when we meet up in a Clydeside monsoon. Only half the band are present - drummer Paul Thomson's wife is expecting a baby; guitarist Nick McCarthy phones Kapranos during our chat from somewhere else on the FF radar - but the group are so much in demand these days that two still seems a good average.

I have not encountered FF since January 2004, when Scotland on Sunday published the first major newspaper interview with the band. We met in a backstage broom cupboard, just as they were about to take the stage for that winter's NME roadshow; just as, to paraphrase David Bowie, the papers wanted to know whose shirts they wore.

The dressing-rooms have changed, so has success - a Mercury Music Prize, two Brit awards, a couple of Grammy nominations and more than 5.5 million albums sold - changed them? No, is my first impression.

Hardy still seems to be wearing the same student's greatcoat from two-and-a-half years ago. He still views every question, however mundane, as a possible launchpad for fierce intellectual debate, like the art college undergraduate he used to be.

Kapranos turns up two hours late, which might seem like Axl Rose-style arrogance in the worst rock'n'roll tradition, but there has been a genuine mix-up and he's profusely apologetic. He reveals that he has just turned down a deal, presumably lucrative, to be "the face of a well-known high-street clothes retailer".

He dismisses his influence as a tastemaker. "Who would have thought it, eh? We were four characters who were not particularly interested in fashion. We started out wearing charity-shop gear, and I'm still in some now," he says of his skinny-trousered, skinny-lapelled, skinny look.

Jeans are becoming drainpipe-y again, and it's probably all FF's fault. But Esquire's ninth best-dressed man points out that in the same magazine poll he was also named the 14th worst-dressed. "That was cool," he says, "it shows we're still provoking people. In order to stay interesting, you need to be winding people up as well." But fashion is fashion, and having Kapranos's face (or waist) plastered across every hoarding would dilute FF's big idea, which is to make brilliant pop music. There's nothing more ephemeral, more 'last summer's breeks', than pop, and FF are deadly serious about it.

This is Kapranos on their next, not-yet-recorded, album: "All bands need to progress; not all of them do. You should be like a shark: if you stop moving, you die. So I want our third album to be completely new..." He checks himself. "Not new... Yes, new. I have an idea for it, but I don't want to tell you about it until I've discussed it with the others."

Hardy throws him a quizzical look, which dissolves only partially when Kapranos utters the words "You know, that film".

He continues, "I want the next record to be very different from what we've done before. I want it to sound like something nobody's ever heard before. To me, that's what being in a band is all about, that's what makes ordinary pop music an exceptional thing."

FF have never been remotely snooty about pop. "That's a mistake a lot of rock groups make," says Kapranos. "Lots of really creative, insightful bands have a fear of it. To us, some of the greatest music is pop music."

Great pop to them, they say, is Roxy Music and Sparks - two long-credited influences - and also Stevie Wonder, who they have not acknowledged before, and Gnarls Barkley, who didn't even exist last year. "It's very easy to get clouded in discussion about what makes a good band," adds Kapranos.

"The reasons are usually pretty simple. A lot of groups don't stand out because they forget to write a tune." FF didn't. Like Roxy Music (with 'Virginia Plain') and Sparks ('This Town Ain't Big Enough For Both Of Us'), FF announced themselves with a classic debut single, endowing 'Take Me Out' with one of the greatest sing-along guitar riffs ever.

Hardy says many bands forget the basics because they're too busy living the dream and "acting out the rock'n'roll cliche". FF are not about to deny that they have fun, but key texts of rock excess - such as Stephen Davis's Led Zeppelin biog Hammer of the Gods - are not part of their on-tour book club. Currently Kapranos is reading Philip Roth's Everyman, while Hardy has his head buried in Michel Faber's The Crimson Petal and the White.

Ask Kapranos about new pursuits and he'll tell you about riding a horse for the first time, but he'll also mention, though not in a show-offy way, that this happened at the Los Angeles racetrack once frequented by Beat writer Charles Bukowski.

Hardy's current obsession is Tristan da Cunha, the Atlantic island changed forever by the volcanic eruption that forced a temporary evacuation to Britain in 1961. There's another place to add to FF's relentless tour itinerary.

But this band are slaves to the rhythm, gigging mercilessly - doubtless it's a great way to stay skinny. Interestingly, during the time they've been almost permanently on the road, acts they've been inspired by or compared to, including Roxy Music, Sparks and Gang of Four, have all made comebacks - as indeed has Terry Wogan, name-checked in the FF song 'Matinée'.

Is there anywhere they band have not played? They recently returned from South America, where a bizarre festival in Vina del Mar, in Chile, will live long in the memory. "It was like a cross between the Eurovision Song Contest and It's A Knockout," laughs Hardy. "Each band plays six songs and tries to defeat the Minister of Fear, who is somewhere in the crowd. If you pass that test, you play more songs. There are medals to win and the overall champion is awarded the Silver Seagull. There were these crazy flame-effects, and Nick [McCarthy] was almost burned alive. We came off stage to be told the whole mad affair had been televised. We wondered who would want to watch. The audience was 180 million!"

This reminds them of another ludicrous recent TV performance, this time in Germany, in front of 60 sports club mascots - all foam-filled monkey and penguin suits and the like - which ended with the annual run-off (the mascots raced, not FF).

The band are still amazed that audiences on the other side of the world know the guitar break in 'Take Me Out' and can na-na na-na-na-na-na along to it. "To meet people in far-off places who are so passionate about your music, it's scary," says Kapranos.

"That time in Chile, the fans camped outside our hotel all night and had a party. They kept shouting the same phrase in Spanish over and over, and we guessed they wanted souvenirs," he says. "So we autographed our pillowcases and chucked them down from the balcony, but that caused a stampede."

Every time FF return to Glasgow, they are greeted in the airport arrivals hall by a giant poster of themselves, part of the tourism campaign bigging up the talent that resides in "the best small country in the world".

Their shoulders may be slim, but the band wear the chunky mantle of Scottish cultural ambassadors lightly. "We're very proud to come from Scotland and a vibrant music city like Glasgow," says Kapranos. The place stands comparison with his favourite stopovers, including San Francisco, Berlin, Paris and Utrecht; it does not lose its lustre the more he sees of the world. He knows that the homeland can seem small, even small-minded, when Scots travel abroad, but he insists, "There's parochiality everywhere. Every bloody town can be like that."

That might sound like he's damning the place with faint praise, but he's not. However, he does have a dig at Glasgow's administration over the Château, the art deco warehouse where FF first experimented with agitated guitars and disco-drumming and staged their now legendary 'happening'. "The last we heard, the council were trying to evict the artists still living there," he says. "I am not demanding they put up a blue plaque saying 'Franz Ferdinand started out here', but the council seem to see creative people as the enemy. In cities like Berlin and Amsterdam they would be allowed to flourish."

Because of their cross-border make-up, FF are well placed to comment on the current stooshie over Scotland's perceived non-support of England in the World Cup. Kapranos, who has a Greek father and an English mother, but has lived most of his life in Scotland, understands why Scots cannot forget the past. "There's such a violent history of oppression and economically dastardly behaviour. It's almost in Scotland's genetic memory now. But, at the same time, we have to reach a level of maturity about it.

"The relationship between Scotland and England is mostly mature and cordial, except when it comes to football. It's like men play-acting at battles. The World Cup is like a war, even if Scotland aren't playing in it. But most of it is good-humoured. The English don't realise this and take it seriously. That's a wee shame for them."

Kapranos, however, is supporting England in Germany. But if, in some far-off, never-going-to-happen World Cup, Scotland are playing England in the final, who then? "Oh, Scotland, definitely."

So what of Hardy? "I'm an adopted Scot. I romanticised Scotland and Glasgow before moving here, and they have more than lived up to my expectations. I know Scotland now and understand why Scots aren't cheering on the English. I would have a tricky time with a Scotland-England final, but I think because of the other guys in the band I'd have to go with Scotland. It would be absolutely euphoric."

For now, FF are just going to have to make do with another triumphant homecoming show at T in the Park. They last played the festival two years ago and are back on the Main Stage as part of one of the best-ever bills. "We've got great memories of the first one," says Kapranos. "We hadn't played Scotland in a while, and never to more than 1,000 folk. But there were 70,000 there that day. We didn't think of a Scottish rock crowd as being a huge monster like that. We can't wait to do it again."

So what, now they're rich and famous, is on an FF rider these days - how do they unwind after a mega-gig when highbrow fiction fails to hit the spot? "Oh, nothing grand. Just beer, wine and a single malt - if you start demanding 'no brown M&Ms' then you're asking for trouble, and Scots can spot poncey behaviour a mile off," says Kapranos.

"Well," adds Hardy, "we used to ask for stamped postcards to send home, but promoters thought we were having a laugh. I think we got them just three times. We used to ask for clean socks as well, but only ever got those twice."

It used to be said about Roxy Music that they didn't smash up their hotel rooms on tour, they redecorated them. Franz Ferdinand could surely make theirs the subject of a successful telly makeover show.

• Franz Ferdinand play T in the Park on Saturday.

• Their new single, 'Eleanor Put Your Boots On', is released by Domino records on July 10

EXTRA!
Listen to our exclusive podcast interview with band members Alex Kapranos and Bob Hardy here.

See exclusive photos of Franz Ferdinand's recent gig at the Metrorock festival in Madrid here and here.