For me, they're the most incendiary live band on the planet, but my first encounter with Yeah Yeah Yeahs almost never happened.
It was May 2003 and I'd been at a wedding in New York. Always on the look-out for the next gig, I saw that, having just released their debut album Fever to Tell, the band were playing Boston. A train ride away - here we go.
I'd bought the album in New York (I hope in the much-missed Other Music, but I can't honestly remember), and the Boston gig was to be the second part of my official conversion to the church of Karen O. But my trip to Paradise (the venue for the gig), almost ended up as a night in hell.
On arrival at the venue, the doorman calmly asked for my ID. My polite suggestion that I was clearly over 21 was met with a non-negotiable "This is Massachusetts, sir". As all American readers will know - no ID, no admission, no exceptions (even for a naive Brit who'd "travelled 3,000 miles to be there").
Yeah Yeah Yeahs were due on stage less than an hour later and, of course, my hotel was as far away from the venue as the city limits would allow, so I bit the bullet, jumped in a $60 return cab and retrieved my passport to a night of rock'n'roll oblivion.
As I walked through the door of Paradise, its newly-crowned killer doll riot queen charged onto the stage blasting out a violent barrage of robo-punk anthems for a generation who never knew they needed them - Date with the Night, Y Control, Rich and, of course, the peerless Maps, the song you would most want someone to write for you.
I've been in her spell ever since, and this week we'll renew our acquaintance in Manchester and London. I'm hoping the only ID test I'll need is the ability to recognise true genius at work.
Agreed, what a band! An icon of the coolest moment in NYC rock n roll history since the CBGB's heyday
A couple of things:
1) I was there - great show!
2) The Paradise was notorious for heavy-handed and dick-headed door staff
I was at the Paradise to see Adult around in that same period. I had terrible allergies at the time and, being British, I had a hanky in my pocket. Frisked on the way in, they asked me to throw away my hanky Why? "Just fucking do it." I refused, pointing to my snot-filled nose. Obviously disgusted, they acquiesced and let me through. Halfway through the opening act, I was grabbed by two bouncers and led to the office. They said they had been watching me going to the bathroom multiple times (it was twice) and that they knew I was selling drugs - presumably hiding them in my snotty hanky! For ten minutes, they tried to get me to admit it and leave, but I refused. They threatened to call the police, and I told them to go right ahead. After some mad-dog staring, with me calling them meathead fascists etc, they gave up and let me back in, but one of them stood next to me the entire night. That was the last time I went to a gig at the Paradise. I used to go regularly, it was 10 minutes walk from my flat. It wasn't my first bad encounter at the venue (I got punched at a horrible The Streets gig) - it's just a bad vibe place all around.