Pete Doherty and Carl Barat were wrapped around the microphone, drenching it in beer laden sweat. They gazed into each others eyes whilst pouring out their old lyrics, the crowd singing along adoringly.
It was 2010, Reading festival and The Libertines reunion was happening; the biggest moment die hard Indie fans could dream of had somehow come to place. The most influential, romanticised indie band of the era were back and playing. However amidst the carnage something felt lost. They may have been singing the words again, playing the old songs to the same beat, yet the soul was gone, the heart ripped out. Nearly a decade had passed since they last played and in that period the edge had disappeared. Despite having all the members present and performing, this was just a tribute.
At a recent sell out at Hyde Park, Doherty admitted doing the show purely for the money. It was honest and true but the reality of that was bleak. The Libertines never stood for the money. They were about brotherhood, anarchy, heritage, history and mayhem, but never about money. Yet the years have taken their toll, Doherty’s drug habit is still needing funding and as a result a tribute to The Libertines past spirit has been spurned out. A memory of past glories, just creating an image of the brilliance they once had. ‘Can’t Stand Me Now’ was so venomous because those words were really meant. ‘What Became of the Likely Lads’ held so much raw potency because you could feel the pain etched in the lyrics, them singing away the friendship which had defined the band. Now, when reconciled and on different life journeys, how could these songs hold the same sway that they did years earlier? For many, myself included, it was still sort of enough, but something bleak still resided within that notion. They were a band which created spirit, but that spirit had now disappeared.
At Glastonbury 2007 I saw Babyshambles, Doherty’s new band post-Libertines, live on the back of their new LP Down in Albion and still in the swirling aftermath of Libertines adoration. The Babyshambles numbers went down a treat but never delirium. Then suddenly the guitar for ‘Time for Heroes’ burst into life. Within seconds a group of people I had never met before, nor will ever see again, had their arms draped round me as we screamed “Did you see the stylish kids in the riot” into each others eyes. It was pure ecstasy, a group of random individuals all coming together for a moment they probably never thought they’d witness. It symbolised everything The Libertines were about. Not only were they a band, they were almost a cult. They were the band of that generation, the one our parents warned us about which only encouraged us more. For gentle, timid middle class kids, they were an outlet to feel rebellious. They were a release; a chance to thrash out every frustration in two albums of frenetic, passionate, hedonistic energy. It was messy and it was beautiful.
Seeing Doherty advertised to perform live at my old university bar four years later was a surreal experience but one friends and I could not miss. When we arrived and he wandered out with an acoustic guitar strapped around his shoulders, a couple next to us tried to point out it was an “acoustic gig”. When the crowd started to rock, sway and push, immediately they cried it out more vehemently, a passionate plea for tranquility admits a hazy sea of sweaty passion. In their desire for a simple acoustic gig they highlighted a complete misunderstanding of Doherty, his music and his legacy. People were not here to watch his guitar playing skills or his damaged vocals. They were here for nostalgia, to have a mini riot for a few hours to songs they had not heard in years. They wanted to hear classics that harked back to a different part of their life, not to watch a weathered figure painfully strum out ‘Vertigo’ on a battered guitar. No one could tell you if he was good or not that night, because no one was really listening. Once the song broke you took it your own direction and remembered what it meant, not what you saw.
The Libertines released two albums. The first album is the one people will always remember. The second, The Libertines probably had more rounded songs, but it is Up the Bracket that still bursts out at you every time you put it on. ‘Time for Heroes’ was the defining classic, but it was a record full of them. The themes of friendship and youth which laced the album hit its audience perfectly. Its romanticised focus on England and its history only heightened that, the good ship Albion sailing through it all. It was all about the unity, brotherhood and the boys in the band.
What’s more, musically it was brilliant. Gary Powell’s drumming pounded throughout, with the vocals of Barat and Doherty layered on top. They each had their unique style, Barat’s more direct, forceful tone compared to Doherty’s more laid back, duller cry, which together created a whole. On top of this was the production. It was messy and lacked cohesion but that only added to the effect. On Babyshambles Down in Albion the production quality was too minimal, it went too far into the abyss, but on these two records it hit the mark, perfectly creating a ramshackled elegance.
Both records mixed brash energy with moments of delicate tranquility. Songs like ‘Can’t Stand Me Now’, ‘Don’t Look Back Into the Sun’, ’What Katie Did’ and ‘What Became of the Likely Lads’ had radio quality without changing their music style and point. Each of those songs had a draw but all were completely unique in their own right. From the “shoop shoop shoop sha lang a lang” in ‘What Katie Did’ to the crashing guitars of ‘Don’t Look Back Into the Sun’ they remained original to the end, never turning stale but always creating. ’The Man Who Would Be King’ deserves to be remembered as as one of the great indie anthems, a genuinely brilliant song that somehow slipped under wider acknowledgement. ‘Music When The Lights Go Out’ was a delicate ballad that would explode into moments of musical chaos. It would be easy to go through every track like this, listing their many merits, because each had them. They were just two great records that caught the spirit of the time perfectly.
If they didn’t split then who knows what direction The Libertines would have taken. Part of the appeal was always the story, the chaotic crumbling of an empire that fled into different parts. If they carried on, would they have produced another good LP? The aftermath of Babyshambles, Dirty Pretty Things and even Yeti all had their moments of greatness which suggests the band had more potential but moreover highlighted how they all worked better together. But simply, that was never going to happen. It was always going to fall, the very nature of the band and the self destructive characters that made it meant the end was always one gig away.
Still, when it lasted it was daring, enjoyable, chaotic, involving and above all plain, excellent music that deserves to stand the test of time. Lets just hope they don’t create something new to ruin that, but fade away in nostalgic brilliance and let us ask what became of the likely lads instead.
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