Many people would argue that there is no such thing. These are sensible people, of the type that have seen my dancing.
The Libertines – What Became Of The Likely Lads
This is an example of a song that I can’t not dance to.
My love of the Libertines, these days, is extremely circumstantial. As is natural, after years of post-band rubbish, Doherty in the press, and just growing up.* I can’t even bring myself to be that excited for the Reading reunion.
But, place me and several units of alcohol in a public place that plays a Libertines song – any Libertines song – and I will dance. If you have the ill fortune of being with me, you will lose me to the press of the crowd, where I will alternately knock drinks out of hands and hug uncomfortable strangers. If I’m not in a club … well, it doesn’t matter, I’ll still shout the lyrics and dance to myself.
I don’t know what it is about their music – it’s hardly designed with dancing in mind – but there’s a certain energy there that summons that particular shambolic beast within me. If I was going to Reading this year, I know exactly how I’d behave during their set. Shamefully.
That much of the Libertines Magic remains.
*Phonogram was, as usual, extremely prescient on this. The Libertines were a key band – “my training bra, intellectually speaking. Supportive to start with, but rapidly outgrown. Soon traded in for something sexier”, to quote the delightful Ms. Aster – to who I became, but ultimately they were fuel. They burnt.