The Libertines - 'The Libertines' (Rough Trade)
4/5
By: Cat Goodwin
'Everybody clap your hands together for me as I watch my world collapse.'
Hope of the States, 'Me Ves Y Sufres'
You already know the history. And if you believe what you read in the papers, you'll suspect that, basically, The Libertines are in pieces. Drugs, arrests and estrangement, between Biggles, Bilo and Bangkok: at best, it's a recurring reminder of the bleakest kind, at worst a weary, broken record. The group everyone is calling 'the most important London band since The Clash' are playing shows without their founding member and Arcadian brother, while Pete is spending his days getting into more fights and trouble with the law. If you listen to this, the long-anticipated follow up to 'Up The Bracket' (and the smart money says you did that months ago; it's been wallpapered over the Internet that long), then you'll know for yourself that The Libertines are in pieces.
You can hear it in Pete's voice alone. 'Nah, I ain't got a problem,' he defies in 'The Saga'. 'It's you with the problem,' he trails off, and then lets out a roaring wail like an ensnared animal. Even Carl says there are parts that he can barely even listen to himself, making this record darker than Robert Smith's eye make-up at midnight, and potentially the most depressing musical event of 2004. And that includes the release of the new Interpol album.
It starts like a drama. The first few bars of opener 'Can't Stand Me Now' are like a five-second jingle announcing, 'it's The Libertines show!' Everything about the single encapsulates the story of The Libertines so far: incomparable urchins Pete'n'Carl throwing back and forth accusations and laments. It's classic, catchy, and full of real pain, and in indie clubs across the land people are dancing to it. The single charting at number two - first, the skag-addled Wolfman, and now the line 'You shut me up/And blamed it on the brown' on the radio - just confirms this is the most bizarre mainstream crossover story ever. Try to imagine the opposite and you've got Rachel Stevens signing to Rough Trade, and how inconceivable is that?
It's shaking that a band whose reputation was built on their swagger and sense of purpose could have it knocked out of them so publicly, in a top-ten hit, yet from horrowshow to media shit-show, somehow 'The Libertines' makes it work for them. There are songs here that share the kind of politicised, social statements that made 'Up The Bracket' so punk-infused and vitriolic - songs like 'The Ha Ha Wall', 'Arbeit Macht Frei' and the blistering 'Campaign of Hate'. 'Narcissist' is still a two-fingered salute from Carl to the populist masses, 'Last Post on the Bugle' is a cheeky, bare-faced (but self-confessed) rip-off from '60s freakbeat band Master's Apprentices.
Elsewhere, 'The Libertines' shows a much more human side. There's the out-of-tune, nursery rhyme-ish 'Don't Be Shy', and the nostalgia of 'Music When The Lights Go Out', which is a wistful, song-long sigh with the saddest guitar. Old-time live favourite 'What Katie Did' is a miraculous love song that reveals a romantic, playful side to The Libertines, indulging in their unlikely adoration of Ella Fitzgerald and The Ronettes, which has as many false endings as the most tumultuous love affair.
Album closer 'What Became of The Likely Lads' is deafeningly sad, the line 'they sold the rights to all the wrongs' the perfect encapsulation of the way the tabloids have exploited the story of The Libertines. For a record that is largely an autobiography of the band, there are plenty of moments about the music industry and the media: 'The Man Who Would Be King', which is essentially a brilliant sequel to 'Tell the King', teasingly repeats 'I've got another secret for ya...' and talks about how to make it 'in this game', the punchline being, 'I'd quite like to make it through the night.' Lines like 'It's been a long war, now we're tired and dirty/Still not dirty enough for you my love' ('The Ha Ha Wall') could be a knowing flirt with any scurrilous, digging journalist.
The truth behind this album, behind all the hyperbole and media hype, is that this is a painfully revealing listen for any Libertines fan. The Libertines, mind, who are so good, so inspirational, that they have been known to spark the will of those who cross their paths from the most desolate and lonely teenager to the jaded, cynical rock photographer, and who have inspired a generation of outsiders, dreamers and very normal people to be brave and hold their heads up. It's a defiant album from a vulnerable band, as brittle as glass.
'The Libertines' sounds like pieces of the best album this band could have made. With shades of resilience and resentment mixed with moments of pure joy and tomfoolery - human trumpets, casual whistling, meandering bass solos and diversions into silly jazz - its bullet-hole wounds are shot through with defiance and strength. Amongst the bitter recriminations and abandoned expectations, 'The Libertines' shines through with shards of light that are quite remarkable.
And there is a very real chance that this could be their last album as The Libertines. But don't be sad. Consider this instead: even if it all ends here, listen to this album really carefully, and you will always be able to hear the bugles.
Artists in this article: The Libertines
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