Everyone has them. The slightly blurred, sometimes out of focus, often completely underexposed photos and videos of concerts. Taken in moments of happiness and euphoria, in moments that we never want to forget and thus try to capture forever. The majority of these images then disappear into the depths of the phone memory or the cloud and will never again see the light of day. At least that's how it was for me until now. However, that has changed. In times when concerts and the collective experience of them were so unimaginably far away, these shots were little lucky charms, escapes from everyday life, and one concert in particular has come back to mind thanks to one or two snapshots. It was May 26, 2018, and I was standing in front of the Waldbühne, looking up at a musician whose name had crossed my path so many times that I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I joined the fan club so late. But on that Saturday it was sealed. For good. Kat Frankie, can you forgive me for being late? Listening to your music, seeing you live, or looking at these very blurry memories, it's beyond me how so much skill, power, and koolness can be in just one person. Through ups and downs, regardless of time of day or mood, your music always hits the mark. Sometimes singing along loudly, sometimes deeply immersed in the acapella versions, dancing through the kitchen, or blasting the neighbors with the umpteenth DIY project in the garden. On your artist page of the booking agency it says: "Their upcoming album harks back to the art-rock of the 90s, with a good portion of bombast." Okay. That sounds dramatic. That sounds loud. That sounds promising, and I'm more than willing to follow you down any experimental sonic path. How about a reunion in August at the Waldbühne? I'll be there.