I went to see Franz Ferdinand last night, who were pretty darn good, if a little contrived at times (and poorly dressed in the bassists case).
But for some odd reason they were slated to come on at 11pm, seemingly to make room in the lineup for one of the most dreadful affairs I have seen grace a New York stage in many a moon. They were called Tight Fit – no, not that Tight Fit – and they were apparently from Brooklyn.
They were four girls, rarely doing anything other than trying to all sing the same notes – occasionally successfully – backed up by a couple of suspicious looking blokes on guitar and bass who obviously thought of themselves as some sort of impresarios. The bass player was introduced as “our founder.”
At one point they announced that this was their second gig, to which Jon retorted, “you mean you’ve done this before?”