It may not be true in miles, but sometimes New York seems a million miles away in attitude. The fabulously glamorous N (one of the best dressed girls I know), is the NME PR back in London, & sorted me out guest list for the sell-out NME sponsored Kaiser Chiefs gig at The Roseland Ballroom. One of the best gigs I’ve been to in years in terms of sheer continuous bouncing child-like enjoyment. Poor A – I don’t think he realised he’d be spending the evening standing next to a Mexican jumping bean.

At one point during the completely over-excited encore (Angry Mob, Oh My God), I launched myself at least a foot in the air, arm punching the sky,(as everyone screamed “Oh my God I can’t believe it I’ve never been this far away from home”) and then for a moment duing my downward momentum had to seriously consider whether my heels would snap under the force of landing. (Note to self – very short skirts not so practical for jumping purposes.)

But here’s the odd thing: all the New Yorkers just stood there like lemons for at least the first half of the set. (And this isn’t germane to the Kaisers – it happens at most gigs here.) The Kaisers played an immaculate, anthemic Everyday I love You Less & Less second song in, and the the crowd barely reacted. There was a tight bunch moshing at the front, a little bobbing/airpunching/head nodding on the fringes of that, and then all these stock still New Yorkers. But, best of all, were these little pockets of obvious Brits (easy to spot – good looking & better dressed) jumping around amongst the statues.

I’m so used to the ebullience of London crowds, whether or not it’s a famous band, that it was hard to believe we were at a live show. The Yanks will happily sing along, but dance, oh no siree. Far too cool. Still the irresistable force of the Kaisers, combined with a good sprinkling of British supporters meant that by the time the encore kicked off, the audience had too. The Kaisers should be thoroughly pleased with themselves. A cracking evening.

Saw MM loitering in the coat check queue afterwards. Went over to say hello, against my better judgement, as wanted to check if my judgement had been previously impaired by alcohol, but no, he is definitely a very, very attractive (& unobtainable) man. Sigh.

Oh, & another thing about Americans that struck me tonight. Why are they all so short? I’m only 5’6″ (altho obviously I have 4″ heels permanently welded to my feet) & find myself towering over men here. This does not bode well for my romantic chances in Manhattan – I only really fancy (with a few notable exceptions) tall men.

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I wish they were short! Why is it that every time I go to a gig a 7 foot guy has to stand in front of me? I’m 5’3″ and usually manage to see the stage at some point, but at the Kaisers I strained to see the entire time. Lucky you were in VIP!!

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