The Others celebrated the twentieth anniversary of their self-titled debut album last month by playing it in full at the 100 Club, along with a second set of tracks from albums 4 and 5.
*all photos courtesy of Paul Colder
As the enigma that is Pete Doherty descended into hard drugs and tabloid hell, the guitar scene once inspired by The Strokes and The Libertines dissipated into the night.
A heroes’ vacuum followed.
History will point to the rapid rise of the Arctic Monkeys, and other radio-friendly chart-stormers like Bloc Party and Kaiser Chiefs, as the protagonists who filled it. But history is often written.
For those who bought into Libertines’ dream, the ones who said “fuck off” to the toxic masculinity of nu-metal and a resounding “yes” to the poetic friendships of Albion, the guitar scene they so adored was ebbing away, along with their youth.
In 2004/5, bands like Neils Children, Dogs, and Les Incompetents emerged with a raw intensity and authenticity, reigniting the spirit with which the UK had previously countered New York City’s undeniable cool. The Others were integral to this; on an unusually hot March night in the 100 Club, the original four members stoked those fires once more.
‘How I Nearly Lost You’ and former single ‘William’ remain the finest post-Libertines songs of that era. The former’s guitars fizz intricately with a wayward jingle-jingle evoking an alternate reality where Alternative TV and Buzzcocks played Sarah Records songs. Fan favourite ‘William’, an ode to frontman Dominic Masters’ schoolboy best friend, is given the added dose of poignancy with William being present. Still ferocious, still infectious, the pop-cum-punk record stands up against anything from the late 70s.
Key to The Others’ early success was their sense of community, which the 853 Kamikaze Stage Diving Division epitomised. Older and stiffer, could they still cut it? The first stage invasion was an overspill of emotion. A dedication of love to a band, to an album that cut through the bullshit 20 years ago. On ‘Stan Bowles’, the squadron was in full mischievous flight. Taunting the crowd with QPR glee. It was, though, on ‘Darren Daniel Dave’ where the band and fans coalesced.
Masters introduced the song tentatively, this being only the third time they’d played it live and the first time in 20 years. The sold-out crowd was febrile throughout the album, with joyful, boisterous scenes of nostalgia flooding the senses. Upon this notice, the seriousness of the song’s discourse brought the mood to somewhere akin to a pin-drop moment. As Masters’ guttural Pete Shelly vocal filled the room with grief-stricken howls, tears filled the room. What happened in the second verse transcended music. One by one, most of the 100 Club crowd ceased to be the voyeur and joined the band on stage. A sense of catharsis washed over the room as grief gave way to a celebration of life.
Naysayers might claim The Others never followed their debut with anything of equal weight - and creatively, they may well be right. But in the wild throes of youth, tomorrow is a ghost no one chases.
While this record wasn’t about legacy - as such - it provided an engrossingly poignant one nonetheless.