A broken collarbone didn’t stop Carl Barat from performing two ridiculously raucous, sweaty, naughty sets at New York City’s Bowery Ballroom this week. With Josh Hubbard of the Paddingtons playing Barat’s guitar parts, the Pretty Things took New York through 48 hours of rocking, drinking, rocking, and um, drinking. Superfans Rob Sheffield and Elizabeth Goodman were there for every last sweat-drenched, unhinged moment. We transcribed their after-show conversation:

Rob Sheffield: Dirty Pretty Things… so dirty, so pretty.

Elizabeth Goodman: I’m dirtier and prettier by association. Everyone is.

RS: That Carl is so intense. I loved his Union Jack sling–did he sprain his arm brushing the hair out of his eyes? (The ban on shampoo on transatlantic flights obviously didn’t affect these guys at all.) I loved his mod Chelsea boots. I loved the way they solved the slow-songs problem by not playing any slow songs at all. I loved how they all huddled together and shared a bottle of Jamesons and how it was empty by the end of the set.

EG: I love how Anthony gave away the bands beer at the end of Tuesday’s show but held on to the whiskey. I love how Carl received the copy of The Complete Saki a fan handed him as if it were blessed by Saki himself, then gave the book to his guitarist’s mom afterwards. “I have about ten copies” he explained, shirtless and bruised and sprawled on the couch. Did I mention that he was shirtless?

RS: I think you DID mention he was shirtless. You could see his “LIBERTINE” tattoo, plus bruises on his right nipple! Clearly, there’s a story there… How many of the Dirty Pretty Things were in the Libertines? I was expecting the Carl Barat Experience but they were a real tight gang, plowing through all those Clashy anthems like they could read each others’ filthy minds. I loved how Carl came out solo for the encore and played guitar through the pain and the others came just to watch … either that or they weren’t allowed to smoke backstage.

EG: They clearly love each other. I’ve never seen an American band work an audience up into such a messy stew of frenzied, sexed-up, hedonistic glee. This was just wrong in all the right ways. I mean didn’t some NYU computer science major lose her virginity on stage? I think so.

RS: You’re so right, those girls were insane. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a show where all the stage-divers were girls. Weren’t they all wearing glasses, too? I guess Pete Doherty got custody of the drugs and Carl got the sex and rock & roll. I bet it was his boots. I want those boots. The way he danced in those boots, swiveling and kicking with his arm in a sling, kind of like Davy Jones on “The Monkees” (sounds bad, I know) or Mick Jagger on the TAMI Show–like you said, the perfect live band, boys rocking out and girls rocking out, yin and yang, all with a broken collarbone… I really want those boots.

[photo: Edwina Hay]