We go in at 8:30: it started at 7. The place is the size of a lottery-winner’s garage; it’s not huge. We only catch the end of support act, Sons And Daughters’ set, and we spend most of that tine jostling for a position at the bar. So apologies to them, but the place is packed, there’s an air of anticipation, and everyone wants the drinks in before the main event starts. We’re all aware that, really, Franz Ferdinand shouldn’t be playing venues this size; they’ve outgrown it, they’re ten times the size at least. That’s one of the things that’ll be shit-hot about it – it’s like being granted an intimate audience with a band who won’t do intimate for a long time after.

After twenty minutes of roadies fucking around getting everything ready, they take to the stage; the band you saw Sadie Frost – ex Mrs Jude Law – interview, right there in this tiny hut, standing twenty feet away from you. They launch into ‘Cheating On You.’ It sounds great; a slightly rawer, punkier, punchier version to the CD track. The crowd go mental with much bouncing around at the front, and a fair bit from the three wasted guys next to me who sung every word and danced and bounced like nutcases – a pain in the arse for anyone with pints in their hands, but they added to the atmosphere.

From then on it never really stops. Nicholas McArthy is a bundle of energy. Alex Kapranos strikes poses and does a little dance from time to time. The music’s the sort of bouncy, pounding, Gang-Of-Four without the politics/chic through a distortion pedal stuff you never knew guitar bands were capable of – especially Indie ones. Indie stuff’s for moping. It’s beautiful, sad stuff, and when it’s good it’s shit-hot, but Franz Ferdinand are a different kettle. They get you jumping up and down like moshers during ‘Take Me Out’ and ‘Matinee’. In plain English, the crowd go totally mental.

By the encore the band are dripping sweat onto the stage. Alex breaks a guitar string. And we all leave half-deaf and happy.

Only minor quibble – given the amazing reaction that ‘Take Me Out’ got, it might be a good idea to keep it for the encore. The audience singing the first part before jumping up and down like muppets to the second would put a nice cap on it all. That’s no to say the crowd didn’t go mental for ‘This Fire’, but you know what I mean . . .

Aside from that, it was as near perfect as possible. Great band, great songs, and right there in front of you.

Iain Bahlaj lives in Fife, Scotland. His short stories have appeared in Front & Centre, Fife Fringe, Chapman, Pulp.net and The Macallan Shorts 3 and 5. His novel, 'Tilt' was published in 2003 (Pulp Books, London). The short story 'Sugar' is a prequel to 'Tilt.' Iain currently works as a night-shift shelf-stacker, while working on a novel about vampires, in this spare time. To visit Iain's showcase on this website, click here

© 2004 Laura Hird All rights reserved.