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| Interpol Amsterdam Paradiso 21.10.2002 As we arrived at the venue, we started noticing little signs everywhere; Interpol SOLD OUT! The tiny room where they would play was filled to the brim with half past twenty Joy Division fans (never a bad thing) and three cute girls of about 14. At the right edge of the stage a vast collection of photographers had built up; there were more of them there than I have ever seen at a gig. Also present at the gig: the fat ugly old blonde photographer, who I first met and mocked at a BRMC gig in march and who seems to be permanently fixed to all the gigs I go to. It was incredibly hot inside, due to the fact that the Paradiso is an old church, and the windows cannot open. Sweat started pouring off you the moment you came within a ten metre radius of the doors to the room. It made for a very tense and pressing atmosphere, intensified by all the beautiful people being too trendy to even move (motion is like, absolutely passé, sweety..), and only standing and looking at nothing. Quickly I pushed aside all the twentysomethings and stuck myself to Paul’s amps, in between a beer-bellied guy in a Joy Division T-shirt (the strange creatures of the music industry never cease to amaze me), someone in a thick woollen black sweater (how the man survived I do not know) and a sweet-looking boy with floppy blonde hair in pure plain black. Nadya stood behind me, still being able to see because she’s tall. After twenty minutes of boredom and nervousness (nothing is more annoying than silent audiences), they finally came onto the stage. As I expected, I was standing practically against Paul’s knees, but I can’t say I minded that very much, hehe. To my left was Daniel and to my right were Carlos and the Kooky Keyboard player, and behind Paul was the drumkit; his legs unfortunately obscuring my view of Samuel. They started with the untitled intro song, and played most of the album songs plus one or two other ones. They looked the height of style in black suits (“We only wear suits because The Hives do”) and, might I add, fantastic shoes. I know every detail of Paul’s shoes because they were right in front of my face. They must have died inside those suits, and indeed the first thing Paul said was: “Can you dim the light a little Michael, they’re too hot.” They were soon sweating their pretty faces off, but they did play a very nice set. The sound was beautiful, especially the bass was headburstingly great, and the faint echo produced by the buildings ancient walls added a moody edge to the rhythm of the music and the sound of Paul’s voice. Fashion and heat forbidding all movement, the only people swaying/dancing/hopping up and down or whatever you want to call it, were the boy next to me and yours truly, who seemed to be the sight to see that evening, as everyone kept looking at me (especially Carlos strangely enough), and him (but that was because boy-next-door kept drumming on the amps, that I didn’t notice but apparently looked very stupid). Paul was closing his eyes and having guitar-bliss-moments a lot, smiling at me and boy next door once when we greeted the intro of NYC with unusual enthusiasm. Daniel swayed from back to front a lot, going into a strange twisted position on his expensively clad toes, nodding his head, being rather cuddly, and Carlos, who had goth shoes, was doing all kinds of strange things, standing a little too close to Kooky Keyboardist and almost hitting his head with his bass all the time. Sweat was everywhere, and enormous bottles of water had been provided kindly by the Paradiso staff and the band seemed a little relieved when they could get off the stage. When Samuel came by, leaving the stage, motioning at the crowd with a beer can, as if offering, and I lifted my arm to get his beer (it would look so smashing next to my other two celebrity beer cans), but he grabbed my hand instead and kissed it... Hanna Nierstrasz. |