11:36 a.m. - 2004-06-09
franz!!!
I love me some 'I went to one of the hottest rock shows of the year' hangover. Throb, throb, throb. Clearly I need to eat something to sop up that leftover drunk juice, but right now all I want to do is braaaaaaaaag.
Kat, angel that she is, got Franz fucking Ferdinand tickets. I still don't see how this was even remotely possible, since it is fairly easy to imagine the music-driven Seattlites harvesting their organs for tickets to this shit. I mean, it was at Showbox. Hot, hot, hot.
How it happened is anyone's guess, but the point is that it DID. I'd forgotten how crazy people get at reallyreally hot shows, and they certainly didn't disappoint last night.
The Oxfords opened. And they were okay, but, kind of yawn-y, seeing as how they weren't Franz and all. What a bittersweet joy it must be to open for a really hot band and be practically boo-ed out every night by the impatient and the drunk.
Now, picture if you will: Kat's good planning lands us a spot up front. Which we had to fightfightfight for, I elbowed the shit out of some folks last night, rest assured. There are two people between me and the glory that is Franz Ferdinand.
What can I say about them that hasn't been said? They like to jump around the stage's platforms, randomly give each other props in the middle of songs, dance cutely. They give a superb, focused live show and I felt like it was one of those hot moments in my life that may be referred to later when boring my grandchildren with great moments from my life. But since, as I ended up discussing yesterday, I hate kids and can't wait to not have them, thus negating the possibility of grandkids...they will have to be someone else's gks. Whatevs.
The only thing that was missing is what's really made me love hot live shows I've seen this year. Improvisation, the unexpected, weird re-vamped covers, something more than resting on the laurels of how great their album is. And great it is, but the LP is sodding lame and has all of one (okay maybe two, I can't remember) new song, which pales in comparison to what's on the album and was probably released for the sole purpose of making loads of cash.
Is it wrong to peer through the veil of hotness and see the truth? Mayhaps.
I'm running out of library time, so I'll break it down like this: crazy people abounds. This brunette Paris Hilton girl tried to elbow through me, then bartered weed (as in very public hits from her very public pipe), which clearly worked. Sadly for her, as she passed it to me again, she actually passed it to not-me, but the security guard tapping on her shoulder. Oops! Also, there was this very annoying boy attached to a probably very deviated septum who was trying to hang all over Kat and Paris-Deux during the show. Yikes. He jumped on the stage, but appeared miraculously five minutes later. I always thought people got thrown into the klink with that shit.
And since I can't get away from this matter, even Franz doesn't get exclusive diary coverage: I'm poor, scared, waaah, I need money, send me money. That'll do, for now.
