Franz Ferdinand / Roseland / Oct. 3, 2004

What can I really say about the Franz that hasn’t been said before? Um, not much. They have a big banner with their name on it now, which they didn’t have when I saw them at SXSW. They look a little beefier, too, like Belle and Sebastian couldn’t beat them up anymore. Nerdy ten year old kids in Hard Rock Café t-shirts know all the words to their songs. Alex didn’t use his asthma inhaler, at least not that I saw. (I asked him about that once. He says his asthma only acts up when he’s performing or when he’s having sex.) Roseland still sucks like a Hoover, all terrible sightlines and Clear Channel evilness. The best part of the show? Running into Rob Sheffield, Rolling Stone scribe and VH1 talking head, and asking him what the hell “fifteen pounds of fuck puppy in a ten-pound bag” means. His reply? “It just means that they’re really cute boys.” He then said that he’d picked Nick, the guitarist/keyboardist/backing vocalist to be his boyfriend. I said I’d rather take bass player Bob, with the precious baby fat face. Oh yeah, Alex’s shirt came quite unbuttoned by the end of the show. Some might find that attractive, but it reminded me of middle school swimming class.