I'm afraid I was too old, too jaded and too cranky to attend either of last week's much ballyhooed, absurdly late and grossly sweaty Franz Ferdinand shows at Webster Hall and Volume. I did, however, manage to see them on Conan. Yikes. Those boys are a force live, I swears.

Next time I'll manage to make it to a show in Williamsburg where the headliner goes on sometime near 1 a.m. Then I'll get in my car and navigate the crazy one-way streets of Hipster Central back to the pastoral fields of Stamford.

Yeah, right. I'll just live vicariously through Jesse.