Dirty knees. Bruised knuckles. The inevitable after effects of The Rat being played in an indie club, or at a house party. After a few drinks I could never contain myself. The visceral energy of the song took possession of me – every time – and I would throw myself to the ground, punching the floor in sheer, furious delirium. It became known as my “move”, as if I had any choice in the matter. I can still remember the first time I heard it. My girlfriend (now wife) and I were half listening to Zane Lowe’s Radio 1 evening show in early 2004, when it came screaming out of the speakers. Time stopped, and for the next couple of minutes, nothing else mattered. I lay down so my head was right next to the stereo. “Please tell me what song this is Zane,” I remember thinking to myself. “Please.”

Everything about ‘The Rat’ is perfect. The furious inertia of the squalling guitar and synth intro; the frenzied drumming; the raging, throat-shredding vocal; the utterly fucking perfect middle eight; the bass thundering back in halfway through the final verse; the surging climax; and those echoing, emphatic twin snare hits that close the song. Nearly ten years later I still tell anyone who will listen that it’s the greatest song ever recorded. If it was the only music they ever committed to tape, their time as a band would have been worthwhile. But really, it was just the start.

Chris Knapman ærgrer sig i Drowned in Sound over, at ‘verdens bedste orkester’ The Walkmen er stoppet som band. Og jeg med ham. Det er sgu da ærgerligt, når et godt band løber tør for – ja hvad?! Men sådan er det nu engang. Og jeg vil nøjes med at glæde mig over den musik, de fik skabt, og den koncert jeg nåede at opleve med bandet for ganske nylig.