The Libertines
Up The Bracket

THE REVIEW

Forget for a moment the unfortunate vicissitudes of the band members, try not to immediately think of Kate Moss doing a line or Pete Doherty drowning in a tub full of drugs, try to listen to this album as it should be, meaning as a work of art which it definitely is. The ideal place in my opinion is in the middle of city traffic, at the end of a workday, with the car radio volume cranked up, people on the sidewalk turning and looking at you with that expression of a stoned goat, the face of the typical Italian at eight in the evening. And there you are, in the car, with the stolen and camouflaged car radio blasting "Up The Bracket," the unheard, unintended epitaph of a group of young badass talents.

As the first track, "Vertigo," slides away, you're rolling a cigarette and some guy on the sidewalk tells you off because the volume is too high and it seems like you're the one playing, inside your fourth-hand car, clapping hands in time, not even understanding why. Let it go. "Death On The Stairs," or whatever the heck it's called, arrives. There's that laid-back intro with the little guitar, then Pete's sickly voice, everything communicates happiness but at the same time it's sad, but only you know why. Because this band no longer exists, because as the good De André said "like all the most beautiful things, you lived only a day like the roses." That's the meaning of "Death on the stairs" listened to in 2006, but it's not over here... with "Horror Show" you start tapping your hands on the steering wheel, the queue keeps getting longer and you pop open a beer, holding it between your legs and making sure the cops don't notice you, then boredom almost sets in but the guitar riff of "Time For Heroes" arrives, with lyrics that give you chills, and damn... you think of when you were the one starting "riots." It lasts 3 minutes, you haven't even reached the traffic light, you roll a cigarette, another one, "Boys In The Band" starts, with that slightly OI rhythm, the killer chorus, you spot the red sign of the motel on the overpass horizon, it lights up and goes off, this band doesn't exist anymore for crying out loud, I don't even exist much either, right now. I feel like singing just like those two cheeky bastards sang, Carl and Pete, supported by a bass and drums with a badass groove, I add a third drunken voice to the "Boys In The Band" chorus, it lasts too little but I'm still stuck in traffic with a beer bottle between my legs. Well, everyone knows "Radio America," you skip it.

The battered scream announcing the title track arrives, and the "vertigo" of the Libertines has now finished hooking you with its spontaneity, the unique sound and Pete's drunken voice that makes you realize you're now in another world, unfortunately, a world made of stimulants that are too expensive and ruin you right away. Let's say you take a little sniff in the meantime, and it's barely been ten minutes since the CD started. Well, there's "Tell the king." You need to listen to it multiple times to grasp its seductive beauty, delicacy, and desperation. Rewind it at least ten times while the person behind honks, while your girl keeps calling you because you're late getting home, or your boss reminds you that you need to go to the office two hours early tomorrow to water his balls. "Tell him you know how I feel... "

Well, the album is over, there are still a couple of tracks that will accompany you during the parking, including "The good old days" that today sounds more than ever like the testament of this splendid, unique band. To all their detractors, make an effort, don't deny yourselves this experience. Try "Up The Bracket" without prejudice, because like the best drugs it should be taken without preconceptions and without fears. I've been taking it every day for years and I must say I still manage to stay on my feet. It only happened to me with the first album by Velvet Underground, and I'm no longer a youngster.