There is no doubt in the minds of music journalists and fans alike that Franz Ferdinand sit at the top of the ever-growing heap of new Brit-pop groups. Their second album, rather than merely duplicate the sound of their debut, is easily as exciting, and destroys any notion that the band would fail to live up to expectations, a la the Strokes.

We have heard how Alex Kapranos is determined to succeed this time around, after a decade on the Scottish indie circuit, which probably also explains the fully-formed quality of much of the “new” material. It is also perhaps because the band appears to be a personal mission for Kapranos, that somehow things do not feel quite right.

From the very start the group have been described as “art-rock” and have made certain all elements of that title have been covered: clever name; arty logo and sleeve design; and visually interesting fashion sense. Yet there is definitely something a little too staged about the performance, as if every movement has been carefully scripted and rehearsed, with Kapranos the director, as well as star. From the Jarvis-style poses and pauses for adulation, to the Shadows-style “guitar walking”, to the final Fab Four bow, not a moment is wasted on spontaneity. Even the new keyboardist has been told to make sure he stamps his foot to the beat, Franz-style.

The music itself is, of course, fantastic. The mixture of influences, carefully pruned from Kapranos’ youth, captures the zeitgeist perfectly. The young audience knows not from where the sound came, nor cares. The ballads provide the best opportunity for him to make eyes in the spotlight, and he knows it. “Eleanor” is dedicated to “someone very far away,” while the Beatlesy “Walk Away” tugs knowingly at the old heartstrings. The songs can neatly be divided into these slower numbers and “stompers” that provoke a sea of pogoing to erupt, “The Fallen” being a perfect example. “Jacqueline” is another highlight with its undeniable chorus of “it’s always better on holiday,” or on the other side of the world in Japan for that matter.

Kapranos goes to great lengths to introduce the band, music hall-style, or is it TV game show-style? Either way, it is lost on most of the audience, who seem baffled by the interlude. More to the point, the night, is Alex’s. But judging by Nick McCarthy’s long face, not everyone is happy to be a mere accompaniment to the Alex show. The Dark Night of the Matinee, is not the only darkness in the air, a sense of gloom is visible below the shiny surface. Although the mood is kept high by the spiky injections of guitar and sing-along chorus, either Kapranos is seeking to take the kids somewhere less joyous, or all is not well in the Franz camp. After witnessing the band tread the same boards as that other loveable foursome did all those years ago, I am tempted to withdraw my claim that the band are nothing less than the new Beatles, and fear that the band’s next effort may be a moody Let It Be-style swan song.

Rating Out of 10: