SHOW REVIEW: Franz Ferdinand, Hammersmith Apollo (9/3/2009)

All Good Things Begin With F
Monday 9th March 2009

Hammersmith Apollo, London

I could go so far as to say I’m a musical snob. If a band changes their stylistic or musical trajectory it must be for the better, for the greater good of music and rock’n’roll itself, or they face a downhill slide on my popularity front. I am ashamed to admit I thought Franz Ferdinand had failed in their recent plight and turned their FF Porsche in the wrong direction. I would like to admit publicly that I was so very, very wrong.

Supported by San Diego outfit The Soft Pack (www.myspace.com/thesoftpack) - an indie pop quartet who with time and a good run on the show circuit are definitely one to watch – Franz Ferdinand eventually took to the stage in a packed and pumped Hammersmith Apollo. I haven’t seen this band for a very long time (I’d say at least 4 years!) and by god how they’ve grown. Their sound is impeccably tight and they play like all four were born joined at the hips. I recall once going to see the red Hot Chili Peppers and being astounded at the amount of songs I knew every single word to (Ie: all of them), and tonight was much the same. The boys have an unbelievable amount of hits (and misses, or so I thought…), all of which I sang at the top of my lungs, and all of which are done nowhere near to justice when listened to on CD.

They cranked out such familiar hits as ‘Dark of the Matinee’ , ‘Do You Wanna’, ‘Take Me Out’, ‘Ulysses’, ‘Michael’, ‘Walk Away’ and countless more, all of which were crowd pleasers – an outstanding set list for sure. Plus their stage presence is electrifying – from their finger mirrored guitar progressions to their heart thumping walking beat drum sequences. I’ll be the first to say I think their drummer is not the best in the world – his simple drum beats seem void of technicality and would be perfect for your first ever drum lesson – but if he ever missed one of those beats the whole outfit would fall apart. Their guitar chords cling to and flow forward with every simple yet astoundingly effective pulse on the skins, and the result is an immaculate and stylish rock’n’roll performance.

As for the rest of the band their chords are always perfectly synchronised and delivered with such strength and execution it makes you want to scream and shout. And every now and then Alex and Nick let go and break into sporadic guitar improv’s and solo’s that leave you for dead and show you that beneath this well-kept disco rock outfit lies and ripped-jean denim-clad guitar wolf waiting to attack. Alongside that, I have always loved their well-timed use of ‘la la la’s’ and ‘do do do’s’. My Stepfather always taught us the use of such measures were a cop out so as to avoid writing proper lyrics, but these four have sullied his wisdom. It’s cute, it’s catchy and I found myself la-la-la-ing and do-do-do-ing their songs all the next day long.

Image-wise I consider them to be the most stylish band in rock’n’roll. Even with four Scottsmen present the closest thing we came to tartan was the immense checkered video screen backdrop displaying scenes of sexy girls, street-scapes, fire and various psychedelic swirls and shapes Pink Floyd would be proud to call their own. And as a lady there’s no denying it – dressed head to toe in jet black bar a striking red belt, coupled with deep Scottish dulcet tones and a commanding presence Alex Kapranos is nothing short of modern rock’s 007 – he looked gooooooooood!

And after all that they left us on the most amazing synth keyboard intro and 5-man strong everybody-solo drums finale I have ever seen! So, in short, Franz Ferdinand rock. They’re classy, they’re cool, they rip their instruments apart and if you dare to challenge them they’ll tear you to bits.

Their fire is outta control, and they burned this city.
Burned this city.
Yeah.

SHOW REVIEW: New Kids On The Block, Hammermsith Apollo (25/1/2009)

THE KIDS AREN'T ALRIGHT

Sunday 25th January 2009

Hammersmith Apollo, London

Over months passed I have been lucky enough to witness the pop party travelling circus that is the New Kids On The Block reformation tour, not once, but twice! Yes, I be one of the privelidged few. The first time was at an in-store for the music chain I worked for on Oxford Street, the second being at their not-so-sold-out show at The Apollo (bearing in mind they did play the O2 Arena the night before).

Let's face it - the kids are old. Every now and then you catch a glimpse of their former glory - Joey's big blue eyes, Jordan's brunette blow wave - but apart from that they're just five mature-aged crooners going through the motions both physically and vocally.

None of this was a suprise to me, as I see boy band comeback's through cynical eyes. Don't get me wrong - I loved NKOTB as a child and even recall having a Jordan night shirt - but I'd like to think my musical tastes have graduated somewhat, and I find it hard not to laugh when they pull out the old 'doing it for the fans not the money' routine. But the thing that suprised me most about this tour was not the still over-priced but somewhat tackier 'bedazzled' merchandise, nor the exhuberant ticket price, the flourescent stage set up or their hideous cover of The Stones' 'Start Me Up'. No, all these things paled in comparison to the aging, screaming mass that was their audience.

At Oxford Street I saw mature working women and mothers alike camp outside the store for over 2 days on the hard pavement in the freezing weather just to catch a glimpse of The Kids - some carrying with them their very own kids! Once inside, said babies were tossed aside and CD browsers were crushed, all in a vain attempt to get to the front and then scream solidly for 3 hours prior to their appearance. The spectacular fashion in which they were greeted once they took to the stage (late) was nothing short of Beatlemania - minus the musical talent of course. The store had to be closed due to overcrowding in the end whilst everyone got their autographs and pictures taken with the fab five.

The scenes at Hammersmith Apollo were similar if not worse. The massive line of one-gig-a-year mothers and wall-to-wall females (I didn't see one male - not a one) stood in the rain - some for over 8 hours - screaming, crying, re-doing their dampened hair and make up and giving the evil eye to the 200+ women who paid over £300 for a ticket that included a meet-and-greet with The Kids before the show. I later discovered, to my horror, these women belonged to a group that were following The Kids to every show around the UK on their very own tour bus, staying in the same hotels, and even running competition's such as 'Guess the NKOTB room number' for prizes and such...?!?!?!

And as The Kids eventually graced the stage house staff and security feared for their lives. Hair was pulled, tears flowed and the balcony shook concerningly as screaming hysterically became the order of the day and The Kids rolled through classics such as 'Step By Step', 'The Right Stuff', 'Hang Tough' and various new tunes I don't know the names of.

Screaming? Crying?? £300 tickets??? I feel I may have missed the boat on this one, as being a 29 year old female and former fan myself I can think of a thousand things I'd rather do with my money and two thousand places I'd rather be. I suppose you could say these women are a testament to that little part of us that never grew up. The part that loves jumping on the bed, watching cartoons, spending £500 in one night and coming home with a bad case of tinitus and a new t-shirt to wear down the local.

In saying all this I must admit to feeling a twinge of excitement, a rush even, as I got to meet The Kids very briefly. As they ran briefly through the rain and up the backstage stairwell from main stage to the balcony (to perform the aforementioned in-the-crowd cover of The Stones' 'Start Me Up') I had the illustrious duty of mopping the stairs dry whilst they sang, as one of them had slipped over backstage earlier and they didn't want a repeat of that on their swift return back to the stage.

They said 'Hi!'. I said 'Hi! Please don't fall or I'll get the sack!'; standing there, mop in hand - not unlike Baby carrying the watermelon in Dirty Dancing - thinking how close I'd just come to the 5 boys I'd drooled over constantly for many of my teenage years, and realising everyone gets old one day.

But not all of us chose to do it with dignity.