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Will Griffin

The Libertines @ Rock City

UK Garage-Rock Revival legends The Libertines took to Rock City this Autumn; The Mic's Will Griffin revelled in 2000s sleaze nostalgia in a night of timeless tunes and unsurprisingly well-received renditions from the quartet's new album 'All Quiet On The Eastern Esplanade'.

 

Escaping the cold of a dark, autumn Monday, Dutch outfit Real Farmer were the final band to take the stage before The Libertines themselves. Stablemates of Doherty on his Strap Originals label, they produced a set that felt like a single song, struggling to break out of the confines of Bilk-esque, shouty post-punk, if you can even call it that. Repetitive guitar lines, a percussionist verging on bass drum abuse, and a frontman who patrolled the stage in a strange David Byrne-meets-Big Mad Andy fashion, all left much to be desired. The only redeeming factor of the 30-minute set being the band's overt support for Palestine, with a flag draped over an amp to go alongside.



In the crowd alone, it was clear we were in for an evening of 2000s indie sleaze nostalgia. Fred Perry polos (two sizes too small) and an impressive array of headwear (fedoras to flat caps) adorned the faithful awaiting The Libertines' arrival on stage. But first, following an acoustic interlude from Ed Cosens of Reverend and the Makers, Doherty walked out, uncharacteristically ahead of schedule to fanfare from a sold-out Rock City. Instead of launching into Up the Bracket, Doherty introduced a Scouse poet onto the stage, who he’d met walking his dog on Upper Parliament Street the night before. ‘Last time I did this though you lot started chucking things at him’ Doherty joked, as the poet began to mixed reception. Shouts of ‘You Reds’ were better mixed than the Cooper-Clarkeian verse though, and he struggled to break through to a boozed-up, fired-up Rock City.

"What followed was an era-winding tour of the band’s best, dipping into everything from 2002’s What a Waster, to this year’s All Quiet On The Eastern Esplanade."

And then Doherty strolled onto stage, face concealed by a hooded parka, and the band broke into Up the Bracket, followed by a rendition of What Became of the Likely Lads that sent the Nottingham faithful into full voice. What followed was an era-winding tour of the band’s best, dipping into everything from 2002’s What a Waster, to this year’s All Quiet On The Eastern Esplanade. It can be the case of bands with such a well-loved initial output that their recent work can feel underwhelming, like a bad two-decade hangover. But that’s not the case with Eastern Esplanade. The songs understandably don’t receive the same response as What Katie Did or Music When the Lights Go Out but are as valuable to this set and the band as anything else. Run Run Run is a particular highlight, serving as a worthy penultimate track to Can’t Stand Me Now.

"It can be the case of bands with such a well-loved initial output that their recent work can feel underwhelming, like a bad two-decade hangover. But that’s not the case with Eastern Esplanade."

As the band left the stage with a solid 40 minutes till curfew, the crowd slipped into what has become second nature: the wait for an encore. The encore has easily become the worst kept secret in gigging. It is almost completely artificial and so expected it produces next to no surprise - surely the point of it all together? It did, however, serve as a seven-song tour of what makes this band so timeless. From this year's Man with the Melody to a riotous Don’t Look Back Into the Sun, The Libs produced a window into that early 2000s zenith, and despite a beer-soaked crowd with incredibly weak bladders, it was impossible not to leave without a smile on your face. As Barat and Doherty shared a microphone and a kiss, it was clear the likely lads are here to stay.


Will Griffin

 

Edited by Bethany Coldwell

Images courtesy of Chuff Media (2024)

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