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No, I’m not a fan of 30 Seconds to Mars, but what else do you do when you arrive in Dublin on the late flight and don’t fancy an early night in your grotty hotel?

For the first time in their career the band played two shows on the same night, to accomodate the demand for tickets while dealing with a tight schedule. All of emo-Ireland gathered at The Ambassador, a worn out venue that used to be a cinema and will soon be a library, if I’m not mistaken.

The horde of teenagers was clad in black, pretty features enhanced with thick mascara. Emo kids, comparable to 80s Goths, but somehow sexier. Self assured, more money in the pocket, designer accessories in the bag. I have never seen so many digital cameras at a show. It’s fun to watch them have so much fun.

Jared and his band rushed through the first concert on the night. They were late and half their gear was stuck in traffic somewhere. The younger fans had to make do with a 40-minute show, but the grave yard shift sort of got their money’s worth. It takes 60 minutes for the band to play their second album Beautiful Lie in its entirety, in sequence, from ‘Attack’ to the hidden track and Bjork-cover ‘Hunter’.

Sparks flew. The band are well rehearsed, professional but not coasting. They seemed to be enjoying themselves too, and though you never know with these L.A. boys, genuinely surprised by the Irish crowd’s vocal fervour.

Leto – a good frontman, not a bad actor, I don’t really believe his flimsy lyrics – wrapped himself in an Irish flag and donned a hat. For a moment his strutting reminded me of the young Bono, though the music pummelled, never really soared the way the Irish band’s would. Playing without their own light show or P.A. has brought the band closer the audience, Leto said: ‘Thank you so fucking much.’

A friend invited me to facebook. I had previously decided not to join, but what the hell, I click on the link and fill in the registration form…

… and I’m informed my name ‘contains too many words’.

Eleven years ago, I saw British comedian Eddie Izzard perform a show in Amsterdam. Not long after, I set up a website about him, which ran in various incarnations from ‘95 to ‘2000. It was my most succesful website, at least until we set up Whedonesque.com.

I hooked up an old HD to my computer yesterday, and found the most recent backup of the site, made just before I took the site off line in 2000. Among the files were two original pieces I wrote. They are a review and an interview, both of which I’d like to share with you again, starting with the review.

I’ve also put part of the site back online, not originally created by me, but given to me to host. It gives me great pleasure to present: Pantscat!, an early Izzard creation.

The review follows after the break. I haven’t followed Izzard’s career the past five years. I stopped ‘believing’ and thought he was a bit too calculating, too eager in the quest for fame. Not a lot of soul. Then I just lost interest. But this was written at the height of my comparatively brief obsession with the man who said ‘Jam!’

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