Not all perfect pieces are rousing, high energy works. Franz Ferdinand hit the spot with a heartfelt apology over trepidation at taking the next step. “I stand on the horizon/I want to step across it with with/But when the sun is this low everything’s cold on the line of the horizon,” Alex Kapranos half croons, before the song takes an unexpected turn into disco funk territory. But Kapranos’s solemn vocals keep things anchored, turning some of the angular edges soft. It’s a surprisingly effective work of incongruity. Eventually it gives way to a dreamy, rolling coda that sees the crooning fall away to a gentle coo. “Oh, the North Sea sings, won’t you come to me baby? Won’t you come to me?” It’s repeated over and over again, turning hypnotic before erupting in a joyous splendour. Finally the music drops away completely, leaving only those same words, which have grown from regretful pleading to confidently romantic. It’s a swelling, transformative song that never forgets its groove.