I touched a Libertine

As promised, this blog will have capital letters and, after finding a spell checker, shall hopefully be slightly more understandable, although severely delayed (writing it whilst dressed in a Libertines t-shirt seems fitting) I even changed the font for this, basically "One night in October" I...

stroked a Libertines face!

& felt a Dirty Pretty Thing's chest!

me and Carl Barat held hands!

With such fantastic music and frequent body contact it's a medical marvel that I'm still alive to tell the tale.
I know stroking a strangers face is probably wrong and unnerving- possibly even illegal, but when such a musician is using your hand to lean into the crowd behind you- there is an over powering incentive to take advantage of opportunity!

On the 20th of two months ago I not only saw some of my favourite Libertines and Dirty Pretty Things songs live- from against the barrier! but I saw some of the most important and sentimentally energizing and influential songs, that the British music culture today has ever been lucky and privileged enough to witness and become a religious-like part of, since the days of The Smiths and The Jam. Not only are their songs painfully truthful and frighteningly necessary, their intense shambling closeness enables The Libertines to embody a truly beautiful chaos of mess and talent.

^Unfortunately I didn't take that photo, but I did witness one of the most glorious setlists since Arctic Monkeys, We Are Scientists and Maximo Park, it almost palpitated my heart to a cardiac arrest, so I wrote the best songs in the shape of a pyramid...

France

Deadwood

Up The Bracket

Time For Heroes

Death On The Stairs

Bang Bang Your Dead

The Man Who Would be King

Don't Look Back Into The Sun

Holy Jesus, did it half make me happy!

Thank heavens I did have a barrier to cling onto because at times the perfection of "Wednesday night's magnolia celebration" almost became too much to bare when Carl unzipped his leather jacket, whipped off his shirt to reveal a vest that unveiled his hand written Libertine tattoo whilst beginning 'Death on the Stairs' as the audience sang "There's only one Carlos Barat, walking in a Barat wonderland" -odd but non the less...

When you think about it, The Libertines are like smashed glass, I know that sounds peculiar but they are both dangerous, edgy and broken yet equally sharp, unignorable and glistening.

Although mesmerisingly memorable and special Carl on his own (still giving it his all) was not the same without Pete, Gary and John. The Libertines songs are written as The Libertines and for The Libertines, they're like a compound so when one of them is up there all isolated it seems a bit upsetting and lonely.

I will still be forever grateful though because it may be the closest I get without fingers crossed at some sort of miraculous Reading and Leeds sequel, as with The Cure...

Not to leave on a dull note though because it's snowing outside, Carl was fantastic, we will always have the music to listen to and lets just cherish the rekindled friendship between him and Pete.

Really, how much you love a band cannot be judged on how many times you've seen them or not even how many of their albums you have because they are both material things that cost money, the main important thing is how their songs make you feel, because that is personal and it's what will always last with you. I will get over The Cure and The Libertines and Foo Fighters with time because I can't let greed over shadow the music.

♥
Spell checkers are just upsetting.