FRANZ FERDINAND: Scotland's Finest Conquer America!

THEY'RE ARTY SCOTTISH HIPSTERS WHO REFER TO THEMSELVES AS A "WEE GANG" AND WRITE SONGS ABOUT HORNY BOYS CAVORITING IN DANCE CLUBS. YOU'D THINK THEY'D BE ABOUT AS POPULAR IN THE AMERICAN-ROCK LOCKER ROOM AS THE CAST OF QUEER EYE . BUT WITH THEIR SURPRISE RADIO HIT "TAKE ME OUT," FRANZ FERDINAND DARE TO CHARM THE BACKWARD-BASEBALL-CAP MASSES.

Philadelphia-in all of its busted, blue-collar glory-has been called many things in its two-century-plus history, but "cool" has never been one of them. Making Time, a semi-monthly party held at Shampoo, a (barely) converted warehouse, wants to change all of that. Located just past a highway in the gentrifying Northern Liberties neighborhood, it's a sprawling structure with five DJ booths, several bars, and an open-air hot tub. On this early, spring-like evening in mid-June, the club is already packed with painfully stylish girls wearing cat's-eye glasses, as well as the usually dour recovering hardcore boys decked out in ripped blazers and skinny ties.

Making Time would be a scene on any weekend, but tonight has a different buzz because Scotland's art-pop fops Franz Ferdinand are performing in lieu of the usual Duran Duran and Dead Can Dance records. Despite the commotion that comes with having a Top 40 album and a summer pop anthem ("Take Me Out"), Franz are quite relaxed here (back home in Glasgow, they've thrown numerous, similar parties in offbeat locations). And that's what is so appealing about the band: They strike the rare balance between cooler-than-you underground and a desire to make Abercrombie teens scream.

"We're non-elitist music," says Alex Kapranos, the band's rail-thin frontman, outside the warehouse. "We're not gonna say you're too thick to listen to our music, or you're too much of a teenybopper. It's so boring, bands who try to alienate the audience just to prove their intellectual status-like, 'We're playing something so smart you can't understand it, therefore we're smarter than you.'"

By this point, plenty of people are understanding Franz Ferdinand quite well. As they performed at a Manhattan Virgin Megastore just a few days before, a passel of delirious teens crammed up against a makeshift stage, while a cluster of suits from Epic Records-the major label that reportedly paid a million dollars to distribute the band in the U.S.-conspicuously high-fived nearby.

On paper, these four snazzily dressed boys couldn't be less stereotypically rock'n'roll. "We're total English gentlemen!" says guitarist Nick McCarthy. "Always refer to us as a gentlemen's band." Kapranos, 29, is a former divinity student with a posh accent and a history as a chef. He also favors glittery shoes. McCarthy, 29, has studied big-band orchestration. Bassist Bob Hardy, 24, is a cherubic art-school graduate who never played an instrument until the group's first practice. Drummer Paul Thomson, 28, is a former nude model who is, according to a member of another Scottish band, the "best-hung" man in Scotland (well, that's a bit rock'n'roll). Still, they've unexpectedly connected in a country that doesn't like its rock stars overtly fey, even if they're really straight (like Franz).

"We wanted to kick out against the machismo of the rock scene-this anodyne, passionless approach to music," says Kapranos weeks later, on the phone from Japan, where the band is playing a few gigs after the U.K.'s massive Glastonbury Festival. "All the sexual tension-what makes life and music spicy and exciting-was missing."

"From the very first time I saw them they struck me as almost a dream band," says Laurence Bell, president of Domino, the influential U.K. indie label. "They had an incredible presence and chemistry and they looked great-the guitarist was wearing a cape and the drummer was wearing a vintage sailor's suit. They projected a total sense of joy and abandon, like they were having fun and you were invited."

Franz's self-titled debut album-a cracking collection of waggish new wave and angular pop (the Strokes with better belts and beats)-has, at press time, spent five weeks in the Top 40 and sold more than 500,000 copies. It's moved 500,000 copies in the U.K. as well, and "Take Me Out" went as high as No. 3 on the British charts. The song's Dadaist video, featuring machine-like caricatures of the band, has been in heavy rotation on MTV.

"It's funny how one hook can completely take over a building," says Tom Calderone, executive vice president of music and talent programming for MTV and MTV2. "We knew there was an enormous buzz about the band, but once we saw them at South by Southwest [music festival], it was just, 'Thank you-good night!' I think there's something fresh and unique about these guys."

Kapranos, especially, has taken full advantage of the band's success to blithely live out his fantasies. In the last year, he has helped guest-edit the Arts supplement of London's Guardian newspaper; interviewed boyhood idol Morrissey for NME; started assembling a compilation of art-rock faves Sparks; dated Eleanor Friedberger of the Fiery Furnaces; and reportedly been heavily hit on by Kate Moss.

"There are a hell of a lot of worse things you could be doing," he says with a smile. "One thing I don't like in bands is preciousness, wanting to be treated like a star. I mean, God, most contemporary celebrities-I would hate to lead their lives. They must be going mental, knowing it's going to collapse at any second."

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