The Naked Truth About The Frames
Being a fan is all albout making choices. Am I the kind of girl who drives 6 hours or more to see my favourite band? Do I collect every snippet that’s ever written down? Am I willing to take a plane to see them if they are not coming nearby? The answer to all this is a big no. I wait patiently till the day GH comes to Amsterdam, with a bit of luck it’s one time a year. It’s more than enough for me. Sometimes you have to control yourself to make sure you don’t break the magic.
Maybe it has something to do with the way I first heard The Frames. In the weekend of 5 February 2005 I first met my parents-in-law: two beautiful people who are a little stuck in the seventies: their houses looks as if Marianne Faithful decorated it while she was in an LSD trip. African art, batik everywhere, dadaistic art made by my father-in-law, wine for breakfast and whisky for dinner. It was love at first sight.
Beacause they live in the south of Holland we decided to stay over for the night. And on the morning of the 6th of February 2005 I first saw The Frames….but in order to really see them I had to conquer a few things. While having breakfast my father-in-law turns the tv on because he wanted to see his favourite show called “vrije geluiden”. Mostly it’s about contemporary music but this time they broadcasted: “It’s just a band”, the fantastic documentary about The Frames. I’ve never heard about the Frames but the music immediately grabbed my attention. There was only one problem: To discourage watching tv without a plan my parents-in-law had turned the tv on its side. The thought behind this was that you really had to make some effort to see something. The other problem was the fact that my mother-in-law was sitting in front of the tv…with just her underpants on. My parents-in-law never wear more than strictly necessary and according to my boyfriend it was already a big gesture towards me that his parents were wearing underpants that morning.
So I decided to do my very best to neglect the fact that I had to look at the breasts of my mother-in-law if I wanted to see the documentary. With my head in a very uncomf0rtable angle because of the position of the tv and my mother-in-law sitting nearly naked in front of me it was hard to stay concentrated on what was going on. But somehow I managed. The day after I immediately bought all The Frames’ cds and the luck was on my side when I discovered that The Frames were playing in Amsterdam 3 days later. Of course I went and I was immediately hooked. But still…every gig the memory of the breasts of my mother-in-law pops up. Maybe that’s the reason I make no effort to see The Frames outside my hometown….