Dirty Pretty Things - Chicago, IL

Photo Credit: Kevin Westenberg.

I think that the time has come to end all of the Pete Doherty worship and declare the real musical genius behind the British punk rock revivalists The Libertines: Carl Barât.

Doherty, a drug fiend, petty robber, and all-around loutish asshole, has taken the UK tabloids by storm (and he's starting to get the attention of US rags like the New York Post, too) for simply being a despicable attention whore. His band Babyshambles, which he started when he was kicked out of The Libertines for so many infractions it would take a week to list them all, is an apt name when considering the band's music. It's a fucking mess. There's no joy in Doherty or his music and the deplorable way in which journalists enable him speaks ill of future generations of music. Remember all those wastoids that worshipped at the altar of Sid Vicious? If this dolt ups and kicks the bucket before coming out from under the weight of his addictions and personality disorders, we have the modern day equivalent.

See? I've already devoted more time than even I wanted to this twazzer. But something needs to be done to counter-balance things against Doherty and turn things upward for Barât.

Barât took The Libertines' drummer Gary Powell, and Doherty's replacement in the band, Anthony Rossomando, along with Didz Hammond from the Cooper Temple Clause to form Dirty Pretty Things. The band's music isn't that big of a departure from what The Libertines were doing, but, looking at it from a perspective of musical harmony, it's 180 degrees different.

I caught the band during a Chicago stop promoting their wildly enjoyable debut on Interscope Records, Waterloo To Anywhere, and the harmonious atmosphere between the band members was evident immediately. Smiles stretched from ear to ear all around the stage, even from Barât who was wearing a Union Jack sling due to a collarbone injury incurred while on vacation in Taipei and who seemed in visible pain as he put a hand to his shoulder intermittently throughout the performance. Josh Hubbard, of The Paddingtons, has been recruited to fill in on guitar while Barât heals.

The injury didn't dampen Barât's energy or his vocal enthusiasm. And the other members of Dirty Pretty Things were even more off the rails excited to be playing, and they did so with wild abandon.

The crowd ate up their infectious spirit and sent back more the band's way. We were all enthralled as one. All of us jumping, chanting, singing and fist pumping together, in love with the band and they with us. My God! Shows can be this good, can't they?! After experiencing no transcendent performances at the previous weekend's Lollapalooza festival, here, finally, was one! It was easily the best show I'd seen since the previous October with Wolf Parade at the very same club.

The early highlight was easily "You Fucking Love It," and it was the point where things went from insane to pandemonium. Didz was singing with all his heart and then Carl came in and just shattered us. A pleasing "Bang Bang You're Dead," was the capper to the band's set proper, but more was to come.

Carl and the boys came back on (sans Hubbard) after much rousing applause and Carl even strapped on a guitar to perform on "France," the hidden track from The Libertines' self-titled swan song. Hubbard re-joined the boys and they began ratcheting up the already spastic spirits of the crowd to new heights on "Burma," and the finale, "I Get Along." To say that people went out of their minds during the closer would be putting it mildly.

Like I said before, joy is one thing you need in spades when performing and this band has well stocked reserves of it. There hasn't been a better show I've attended all year and everyone who reads this should check the band out live as well as purchase their fantastic debut, Waterloo To Anywhere. Both will leave you wondering, "Pete who?"