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Our Crack Tongue & Groove

whatfrehlibertines.jpg What fresh hell is this?
 

The Libertines have reformed for a gig at Hyde Park, and, fittingly for one of the most underwhelming bands of all time, they’ve scraped together possibly the most turgid line-up in the history of live music.

Maximo Park I can just about take: they know the value of a nice bit of artful pop and can trade dynamic live licks with the best of them. Unfortunately however, there is no “best of them” when it comes to The Libertines’ none-long-awaited reunion gig. The Pogues, invariably, are set to appear. (Is it written in some contract somewhere that they must be second or third on the bill of any gig held at Hyde Park?) And Spiritualized will no doubt be inducing a stampede for the bogs when they wheel out their yawnsome space-rock yet again. But the real horrors - the “It’s Alive!” moment, the “we’re going to need a bigger boat moment”, the bucket of blood over Carrie’s head moment - can be found elsewhere in the line-up. The Enemy for instance; a band aptly named as they invariably make instant enemies of anyone who recoils from dull indie that’s more meat and potatoes than a Wetherspoon’s Sunday lunch. And then there’s shoe-gaze revivalists, Swim Deep, a band that we really wish would. Swim deep that is, into a very dank and disused canal. Who else? Raglans? An up and coming Irish band with about as much edge as a beach ball. The View? The Rifles? The Twang? THE TWANG FOR PITY’S SAKE - indie bands that should have long been shovelled into a cement mixer and used as foundations for a motorway flyover. A friend - an inexplicable fan of The Libertines - alerted me to the gig by sticking an advert for it under my nose and enquired if I fancied attending. If my subsequent skirling laughter was a flame-thrower, I’d have taken her eyebrows off.