Franz Ferdinand ... Their annual is a corking, charming endeavour. Photograph: Sarah Lee
Encouraging rumblings from the hitherto dormant belly of the band merchandise beast: arch Scots bonce-rock dragoons Franz Ferdinand have launched their own annual. An actual, proper annual, with a proper annual title (the Official Franz Ferdinand Annual 2007) and 50 proper, annual-y pages of puzzles, problem pages, personalised My Guy photo-stories, crosswords, fact files, poorly cut out snaps of the band that make their craniums look like the south face of the Matterhorn and everything.
It's not perfect: there isn't a candid, through-the-keyhole shot of guitarist Nick McCarthy soaping up in the shower, or a bit that explains why Alex Kapranos' lips are the same colour as the rest of his face, accompanied by a handy guide to help concerned fans organise their own emergency Blistex charity drive. But minor grumbles aside, the OFFA2007 is a corking endeavour, a charming and only slightly too-knowing reminder of the days when no pop band worth its weight in Jerome Russell home frosting kits was without a yearly, book-based encapsulation of its jape-shaped spirit.
What's more, thumb through its gleefully slap-dash pages and you will detect the gladdening thud of the gauntlet being dropped. Given that most bands' idea of a light-hearted merchandising innovation is to release a brightly coloured T-shirt, or a cigarette lighter, or perhaps, if they're feeling particularly mischievous, a selection of faintly amusing promotional badges, Franz Ferdinand's venture (available from their website for the thunderously reasonable sum of £10.99) seems less a retrofied wheeze and more a thunderclap of inspiration.
It may be the preserve of the teen-oriented pop act but the OFFA2007 proves the annual can be adopted by members of the traditionally lark-wary "indie" set with damage to neither brain nor integrity. And adopt it they should. All of them. Forthwith. Frankly, there isn't a band in existence that wouldn't benefit from having their faces Pritt Stuck on to an original 1980s My Guy photo-story featuring miming drama graduates in Pineapple harem pants. Dullards would be rendered bearable and thickos promptly re-cast as ace self-lampooners. Imagine how much more interesting, say, Kings Of Leon would be if they were to embrace this knees-up-Mother-Brown approach. And how much less intolerably po-faced would the Killers and Razorlight seem were each to release a book in which readers could learn about their favourite pets before colouring in their bodies with crayons?
That's right: lots less intolerably po-faced. Really, the annual's leavening and rejuvenating possibilities are endless. Above all, however, it offers a substantial dose of the one thing that is routinely shied away from in the predictable world of "serious" band merchandise: fun. And who, in these dark days of faintly amusing promotional badges, doesn't want more of that?
