Paul Banks (AKA Julian Plenti) put out a solo album this year and I bought that sucker on the first day it was released. Listened on an endless loop for a few weeks. I was WAITING for that sucker. And waiting for the tour. And was then tremendously disappointed in the few gigs he did in the States before heading overseas. My obsession with Paul Banks will make itself VERY apparent if I continue this blog (still not sold 100% on this blog business) in all manner of video, musings, photos. I will make YOU (HA! I know I'm the only one reading this, so I'm preaching to the choir!) a fan of this skinny white boy from NYC. When I first heard Interpol I had this mental image of PB as a dark-haired, very seedy, moustached, chalk-white, gaunt, pock-marked faced man in his late 30's. A man with an obvious taste for heroin and sado-masochism. Not sure if I was relieved or disappointed when I saw him the first time. But I am like one of those girls in the audience when the Beatles made their appearance on the Ed Sullivan show for the first time where he is concerned. Pulling my hair out, screaming my lungs out, mindless with a singular purpose, to adore Paul Banks/Julian Plenti/Interpol. To buy everything they/he puts out there. To see them/him live as many times as I possibly can. I'm pretty simple. It could be worst.
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