Nobody puts Franti in a corner.

Okay, so here's something I considered a kind of cool behind-the-scenes-type story which there's really no point to but telling it may improve my chances of gaining membership to the brotherhood of the Freemasons or some similar group with secret handshakes and a special hat, so just you sit down and listen and wipe that smirk off your face.


My dear friend Dave performs in a band who recently had the honour of playing the Falls Festival, if you can call standing in front of eight thousand sweaty teenagers with no shirts on an honour WHICH MAY I SAY I DO. I of course duly grilled him about who was good on the day, who was heinous, who looked as though they might have been heinous before launching into a display of riffage so stunning the entire front row fell pregnant, etc. He kindly responded, and additionally dragged me into his secret backstage confidences as he is a superior kind of friend.



Dave: So then there was Franti.


Me: Oh god. Franti.


Dave: I know.


Me: Does he ever go home? I mean, ever? He's here all the fucking time.


Dave: I know, I know.


Me: Every time I turn around he's wandering the nation.


Dave: Yeah.


Me: With no shoes on.


Dave: He really does love going barefoot, doesn't he?


Me: Anyway.


Dave: Oh. Right. So backstage there was this artist's area, and in the middle of it was this huge...UFO-type thing.


Me: A UFO?


Dave: It was kind of...it probably once lived in the middle of a children's playground with slides and stuff coming out of it. But they'd cleaned it up and carpeted it and put couches in it.


Me: Oh, sweet.


Dave: I know! So I went up and asked if I could go in and have a sit down and was told in no uncertain terms that it was 'Franti only'.


Me: What?


Dave: Only Franti and his 'krew' were allowed inside the UFO.


Me: I thought he was a man of the people.


Dave: So did I. Then obviously too many musos wanted to go in, so Franti made a sign saying 'FRANTI BAND ONLY' with the 'only' bit in really bold black texta.


Me: That's amazing.


Dave: I saw him standing outside the UFO later on talking to people and he looked as though he was selling tickets to get in. It was like the Franti-a-tron. Wish I had my fucking camera.


Me: That's the last time I buy a Spearhead record.


Dave: I didn't really need an excuse, to be perfectly honest with you.


Me: Fair call.



***********************


Not necessarily a salacious coke and whores backstage tale, but one that tickles me nonetheless. I don't know, I just like the idea of Michael Franti squirreled away in his private UFO banning all others from entering. I'm quite easily pleased in that way.





'The negativity we keep it at a distance/call for backup and I'll give you some assistance (members only, fuckface)'





304 days til the next election.