I was there primarily to see Death Cab for Cutie, and was gutted when we showed up at Pacific Coliseum and could hear them playing their set inside the arena. Late as always.
We walked in to the loud, dark arena, Ally, Rossy and Erin sporting amazing goggle burns on their faces from a weekend of snowboarding in Whistler, their noses peeling in huge gruesome chunks and their cheeks glistening with moisturizer. Hot. We shuffled down the aisle in the dark, trying not to get in peoples' way and eager to get sitting down and enjoying the show. This proved to be difficult when we got to our row and every seat was filled. After fetching an arena official with a flashlight, we stood aside as she examined the tickets of every single person sitting in the row. Everybody hated us. Three songs later, the culprits were booted out (I contemplated tripping them as they trotted up the aisle past us, but real life Kristen is never as evil as inner urge Kristen, and my feet stayed where they were), and we were in our seats.
Death Cab was wicked and their set was amazing. I didn't want it to end, and silently cursed Franz Ferdinand as they played their last song and welcomed the next band.
But by the time the break was over and the lights were dimmed and Franz were making their way onto the stage, I'd had a red bull and two beers, and was levitating off my seat.They came out with more energy than I'd ever seen. This was the last show of their tour, and both bands, who seemed pretty much in love with each other, just didn't want it to end. They were relishing every minute of being on stage, and putting so much into each song.
The entire stadium was on its feet. Except... our section. Apparently the "A" in section A stood for LAME. We were literally the epicentre of sit-town. Ten rows up, ten rows down, and two to the left and the right, all populated by people glued to their chairs, their heads barely bobbing. Not wanting to obscure the view of the people behind us, we stayed sitting for an entire song before Ally got up and started dancing in the aisles. She got kicked out by the lady with the flashlight, and when she came back to our seat we all stood up with her. Sitting shmitting. Franz was on stage and they were giving 'er.
The four guys in front of us (none of whom would give poor ultra hyper Ally a high-five) stood up too, but stood like statues, unmoved by the energy of the crowd and the band. I think they were deaf. The guy directly in front of me was as tall as a freaking tree and as immobile as a brick wall. The four people beside Ally snuck out, never to return, and the four of us spread out along the rest of the row as the music got louder and faster and crazier.
The show seemed to be building towards a crescendo. Each song got more wild and unstructured, until eventually the concert reached its climax: a song after the encore, where two band members grabbed drum sticks and surrounded the drum kit along with the percussionist, so now there were three people wailing on the drums. They went nuts for about a minute, and I jammed to the music while watching a wily nymph doing the jig to end all jigs in the open play pen on the floor. He just unleashed, oblivious to anything and everything but the incredible music, flailing and jamming, doing epic, uncoordinated flips and jump kicks in the air, then spinning in the air, throwing his arms in every direction, running back and forth, skipping and diving and jamming. He was fabulous.
Then the stage went completely dark, the drummers still wailing away on the drums, and when the lights came back on there were eight more people with drums on stage flanking the drummer who was still in the centre with the other two band members, still wailing away. Eleven people were now pounding out the same mad, electric, almost primal beat, going faster and faster and faster. You could practically see the sweat pouring off their foreheads as they pounded away, bent over their drums. I peed my pants.
It was the single most amazing thing I've ever seen in a live concert, and it went on for so long, the song, and the concert, ending in this climax of drums.
It was the raddist thing ever. I wish I had it on tape so I could re-live those five minutes as many times as it would take to process how incredible that moment was. But then again, maybe having constant access to that moment would make it less special. It's certainly a memory that won't fade any time soon.
Do it up Franz Ferdinand. I'll line up to see them again in a heart beat. In a drum beat.
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