'There are fewer more distressing sights than that of an Englishman in a baseball cap', sang The Libertines on early hit Time for Heroes. As true as that may be, watching a once vital band try and fail to recapture their glory days also has to be up there.
So it was perhaps with some trepidation that Manchester welcomed the noughties legends for their Up the Bracket 20th anniversary shows. The Whitechapel quartet's Tony Hancock-referencing 2002 debut remains a classic - and distinctly English - salvo from what was once dubbed the garage rock revival.
Back then, the relatively unknown Pete Doherty and Carl Barat were co-captains of the good ship Albion - a mythic cultural vessel we now know was on course for treacherous waters indeed.
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Yet, two decades later, here it is cruising into view again - but can this once infamous galleon still ride the turbulent seas of rock 'n' roll, or is it time it became a museum piece?
Taking to the stage against a backdrop of their debut’s now iconic artwork - depicting Argentinian riot police - the band move through the gears during openers Vertigo and Death on the Stairs. Those spiralling, splenetic riffs are present and correct as the band limbers up through faithfully ramshackle versions of the songs that introduced Up the Bracket to the world two decades ago.
But it’s on third track Horrorshow - that record’s punkiest and hardest-hitting tune - that they really hit their stride. And the crowd really gets bouncing during Time for Heroes and Boys in the Band - still two of the band’s strongest and best-loved tracks.
They look the part, too. Carl cuts a figure somewhere between Alex DeLarge, Joe Strummer and Marty McFly, while besuited bassist John Hassall is a dapper presence stage left.
Pete is rocking a less flamboyant look - although his trademark porkpie hat is atop his head, of course. But while he may have ‘swapped crack for camembert’ - as the Guardian recently put it - he still exudes an undeniable charisma, chatting to the crowd about the band’s early gigs at Manchester Roadhouse and a fan’s ‘Pete Doherty, remember Breck Road.' banner.
It’s a bit of a shame when Radio America inevitably derails the momentum a little - even if it is faithful to the album’s tracklisting. But things are soon back on track with Up the Bracket’s title track, with audience members hollering along to the rambunctious number and gleefully holding their ‘two cold fingers’ aloft at the required moment.
Tell the King - one of The Libertines best songs in this writer’s eyes - meets with a surprisingly muted response, but the Boy Looked at Johnny really rocks and I Get Along rounds the first part of the set off in uproarious style.
As is ironically often the case with these sort anniversary shows, the real magic happens in the second half of the set - perhaps because it restores that essential ingredient of unpredictability which an album run-through lacks by definition.
As night falls over Castlefield Bowl, the band dip into their often superb - although admittedly rather slim for a band of their vintage - back catalogue.
Gunga Din - from their underappreciated third album Anthems for Doomed Youth - gets a deservedly rapturous reception, while What Katie Did meets with a mass ‘shoop shoop’ singalong.
You’re My Waterloo - featuring Carl on piano while Pete handles vocal duties - is a great song and a truly special moment tonight. Meanwhile Music When the Lights Go Out brings a touch of class to proceedings with its languid guitar line alternating with bursts of frenetic fretwork.
Of course they can’t leave us without What Became of the Likely Lads and Can’t Stand Me Now - both of which could lay a claim to being the band’s theme song.
Drummer Gary Powell - resplendent in lime green Adidas tracksuit - can barely contain his glee come the end of the set, emerging from behind his drumkit to commune with The Libs’ faithful as the show draws to a close.
So many of those spiky early noughties guitar bands - once so celebrated as breathing new life into the genre - have since been written off as ‘landfill indie’, almost an embarrassment.
But The Libertines? They’re in a class of their own, my love.
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