This was my brothers first ever gig, and my first time of seeing The Libertines. A band both of us have now seen countless times. I was 15, he was only just 13. In retrospect that is all kinds of lunacy. The actual show was a blur. An assault on my senses. To this day I don’t remember being so packed into a gig. Seeing drugs being used for the first. Getting a slap for being sarcastic to someone, who I’d now recognise, as want for a better word, fucked. The noise and the excitement in the room as the first chords got hit. A fever pitch that never died. I remember us being close to the front, just to the left. Memories of the actual songs have long vanished. I remember the band crowd surfing at the end. That’s a pretty big thing at our age. To see your heroes lose themselves, and to get close, and to touch them.
You probably can’t view any gig objectively at that age (I’d argue you shouldn’t look to treat any gig objectively, and the best gigs are those, that leave you feeling something after, no matter how accomplished they might be), but it clearly had an impact on us. An impact on me which has meant I’m reliving memories from nearly 15 years ago on my way to work.