Franz Ferdinand & Telescreens Rocked The Fillmore 4/4/25

There are some shows that feel like concerts, and then there are those that feel like events—where the music, the energy, and even the audience seem to conspire to create something special. Last night at The Fillmore in Minneapolis, Franz Ferdinand delivered the latter.

The night kicked off with telescreens, a band that looked like they stumbled out of a dreamy VHS tape and onto the stage with pure intent. Their lead singer—equal parts charming frontman and nostalgic time traveler—won the crowd instantly with a disarming, “Don’t be scared to sing along to a song you don’t know.” And somehow, we all did.

There’s something magnetic about a band that can pull a room of strangers into harmony with songs they’ve never heard. Telescreens balanced electrified rock-outs with enchanting melodies, with a lead who could float through a verse with a pretty, haunting voice—and then belt a scream that felt effortless, almost Morrison-esque. They joked, drank in the atmosphere (“Give it up for this little kid at a rock show!”), and left the crowd buzzing. “We’ve never been to Minneapolis before,” they said. “We’ll be in there drinking beer, selling merch—come say hi. We’re all nice people.” It felt honest, and people listened.

Then came the main event.

Franz Ferdinand emerged like a theatrical explosion, entering to a show-tune-meets-jazz intro, waving to the crowd like old-school movie stars. Dressed like rock ‘n’ roll royalty with a touch of cabaret class, they launched into a set that felt tight, polished, and wildly alive.

“We’re Franz Ferdinand,” the frontman announced, “We’re from Glasgow, Scotland,” and just like that, Minneapolis belonged to them.

Five members strong—with a standout woman on the drums and a pianist who at one point whipped out a stringed instrument —the band exuded chemistry. Their frontman is pure energy, bouncing across the stage between lyrics, coaxing the crowd into call-and-response during No You Girls, and looking like he could do this every night for the next twenty years—and still love it.

The sound? Impeccable. Somehow, The Fillmore turned into an intimate club. During Walk Away, the crowd swayed and sang like they’d all shown up knowing they’d be the backup vocals. Dark of the Matinée came in with a faster tempo than expected, and the crowd responded by hoisting hundreds of phones in the air—proving some songs are just too iconic to not record.

By the time Lucid Dreams tore through the speakers, the room had fully surrendered. It was disco fever, indie grit, and Glasgow swagger rolled into one unforgettable Friday night.

Being around since my younger years, I wasn’t sure what to expect of Franz Ferdinand live in 2025 - but let it be known; they’re still worth every cent of the ticket.