Are you as bored of The Libertines as I am? Did you have your fill of them before you had even heard a note of their new album? Am I alone in thinking that Pete Doherty is a slightly pathetic figure? Do you feel it ever so slightly voyeuristic to watch a human being fall apart in the name of increased record sales,? asks Jim Carroll
Do you wonder why so much music press ink is being spunked about such an astonishingly average band, an outfit who make The Thrills look quite good by comparison? Does it surprise you that longtime music industry svengalis Alan "Creation" McGee and Geoff "Rough Trade" Travis (indie's Louis Walsh and Simon Cowell), are involved?
This was not intended to be a column about The Libertines, but I suppose I have your attention now. In 2004, The Libertines represent certain ideals of rock 'n' roll to many people. Whatever about the music (ragged, raw, lightweight guitar rock with second-hand swaggers), it's the on-off, is-he-isn't-he soap opera of lead singer Doherty that has made headlines. That this poor dopey sod has become a poster boy for a certain deluded notion of rebellion says much about how much popular culture has dumbed down.
Doherty and The Libertines came to mind quite a bit while watching the new Motor City Five DVD, Sonic Revolution. MC5 rocketed out of Detroit, leaving behind a potentail lifetime on the assembly lines to peddle a rattling mix of revolutionary music and leftist bohemian polemic. Most of the latter came from manager John Sinclair and what was going on at the Trans Love Energies commune in the city.
Sinclair was the one who penned the White Panther manifesto that called for a "total assault on culture by any means necessary, including rock 'n' roll, dope and fucking in the streets". The band embraced such views with gusto and seemed content to endorse Sinclair's agenda. The Summer of Love, it would seem, had scuttled quickly past Detroit.
The main focus on Sonic Revolution is a ropey concert featuring surviving MC5ers Wayne Kramer, Michael Davis and Dennis Thompson performing with such dodgy characters as Ian Astbury, Dave Vanian and Lemmy in London in 2003. Yet fast-forward through that and let the extras tell you some of the stories involving these raucous, noisy Detroit troublemakers.
Ignore the sycophantic documentary with the talking heads and take a close look at the archive reels of live shows and TV appearances. Shaky, hand-held black-and-white footage in the main, it captures the raw energy of a band trying to make sense of the insurrectionary vibes around them.
Slap bang in the middle of this, the film suddenly cuts to colour, the picture sharpens and the sound disappears. The reason for this burst of professionalism is that this is silent footage culled from the US National Archives. It was shot by the US Department of Defense who were monitoring the band at the 1968 Democratic Party convention in Chicago, which ended with violent confrontation on the city's streets between police and demonstrators.
In late 1960s America, the MC5's mix of edgy music and counter- culture politics was certain to get them noticed, hassled and hounded. Manager Sinclair ended up in jail and the band fell apart in 1972, worn down by life and death. They left behind some great music, but, more importantly, they showed that rock rebellion wasn't just about talking in public about your drug intake. While there is an argument that the politics were wholly Sinclair's, the MC5's fuzzy guitars, snotty rock and cocky attitude nevertheless had a place beyond just providing a soundtrack to freak out to.
They don't make them like this any more. Today, acts prefer not to be politically charged and those who pull the strings are more interested in cash than causes. Twenty years from now, we'll probably still dig hearing how the MC5 kicked out the jams. And The Libertines? How does "the new Oasis" sound to you?
Sonic Revolution is out now on BMG jimcarroll@irish-times.ie
DISCOTHEQUE
Jim Carroll
