THE LIBERTINES

It was sadly predictable that when a bunch of cockney bag-heads burst onto the scene playing drugged-up garage rock in leather jackets they'd be tagged as the British answer to the Strokes. Initially, I was sceptical and a messy live show did little to persuade me. Over the course of the year, though, I saw and heard enough to convince me that the Libertines had some staying power after all and after eventually shelling out on a copy of this album (the record company reeled me in with a spuriously spruced-up reissue) the penny finally dropped. The Libertines ARE the British answer to the Strokes and, along with a handful of others (BRMC, White Stripes), one of the few bands of the recent "movement" to actually have some substance. From a style point of view they were obviously born to win with their born to lose attitude. I don't want to glorify the taking of drugs (particularly the dirty ones) but the Libertines didn't just borrow the image of someone like Johnny Thunders from a magazine, a point unfortunately strengthened by the fact joint leading man Pete Doherty recently had a spell in jail after burgling his bandmate's flat whilst on a heroin binge. Thankfully, at the time of writing, the band are back together but, according to my reliable sources, have now graduated to smoking crack (the dirtiest of all the dirty drugs) so it is anyone's guess if they'll actually get it together sufficiently to produce a follow-up to this era-defining debut. As I've said, as with all musical movements, when the hype dies down and the media cools off I'm certain that this album, along with Is This It, will be retained in the hall of fame, instead of slipping into the bargain bins soon to be inhabited by the likes of the Hives or even the Vines. As is reflected by the fact the Strokes are essentially a bunch of rich kids trying to look cool this album is far, far sloppier and rougher than the stream-lined smartness of Is This It. Thankfully, though, the Libertines share the knack for combining ridiculously infectious melodies with retro rock'n'roll and investing the whole thing with enough youthful exuberance to ensure it all sounds fresh and exciting. Although the guitar interplay is refreshingly sloppy, the vocals brilliantly characterful (even for a Londoner), and the lyrics surprisingly canny (Morrissey if he was on drugs rather than self-pity) the real star on show here is the hooks. It is a real wonder that any band in this day and age could write so many great melodies on one album, never mind the fact it is done so in the surroundings of authentic rock'n'roll. Comparisons with the most melodic of the first generation punk bands (the Undertones, Buzzcocks, Ramones, etc.) come easy and it isn't an entirely unreasonable criticism to suggest the Libertines aren't really doing anything THAT new from what was going on in Britain twenty-five years ago. That said, such accusations can equally be levelled at the Strokes, of course, and the answer for both bands is the same - if this album was released back in 1977 it would be just as highly regarded as it is now. In short, just because this is not highly original does not mean it is any worse, atemporally speaking, than its predecessors of the genre. The pop-punk (in the good sense of the description) of "Death on the Stairs", "Time for Heroes" and the two classics "Boys in the Band" and "Up the Bracket" are essentially as good as any single released during the good old days and are the types of songs that you end up singing all day at work until you get the chance to get home and put the album on again. Over thirteen tracks the album is probably split into three catagories - the melodic rock'n'rollers I've already mentioned, the manic, almost-hardcore punk numbers and the slightly slower and more serious numbers. Furthermore, the quality of the respective numbers pretty much follows that ranking. After the genius of the melodic masterpieces the exhilarating take-no-prisoners rockers tend to be the most enjoyable numbers with the high-tempo, mad-cap "Horrorshow" and "I Get Along" showing the lagging garage rock bands how it should be done with the stand-out such number being a hilarious and brilliant fusion of Chas and Dave with hardcore punk chops ("The Boy Looked at Johnny"). The album, then, is filled out (mostly on the second side) with slightly more serious numbers that, although still acceptably melodic, do have one tempted to reach for the skip button now and again. It is testament to the fun numbers, though, that songs as strong as the likes of "Begging" and "Tell the King" seem like the weak numbers on here. Indeed, the only song I really don't rate is the late-night skiffle of "Radio America" which only serves to heighten the expectation for the imminent title track, particularly coming after the similarly superlative "Boys in the Band" ("I know you love the roll of the limousine wheel"). The album was produced by Mick Jones which is convenient given the band actually sound a lot like the sort of songs he used to write and perform in the Clash. Indeed, it is extra pertinent that one of Jones' best songs ("Stay Free") should be about an old friend coming out of prison. Equally pertinently, this CD reissue ends with their original single, the excellent "What a Waster". Time will tell how Doherty and the boys will get on after what's gone before but let's all hope (for our sake and their's) the lyrics from the aforementioned song don't prove to be a self-fulfilling prophecy.

For just long enough everything was fine in the mythical world of the Libertines. Pete Doherty got released from prison, after being sent down for burgling bandmate Carl Barat's flat, and was immediately reunited with his best friend and the rest of the band. A reunion gig was played in Chatham of all places (the premier shithole in the UK) and the touching photo that was chosen as the cover for this album was taken. Carl and Pete had both been working on new songs (the latter in true Johnny Cash style) and no sooner had Pete heard the gates slam behind him than a studio was booked and Mick Jones rehired as producer. The sessions were not as joyful as had been hoped, though, as Pete soon slipped back into the loathsome embrace of his old crowd and his crack and smack habit grew to the level of notoriety he now carries around, a perennial shadow cast over his shoulder. Thankfully an album was completed but no sooner were the Libertines officially back together than Pete was officially back out again, with the desperate plea for him to sort himself out falling upon his deaf ears. The tabloids (including NME) can document his subsequent descent into hell better than I but yet again we are left in the same situation as last year - a great album but without a proper band to back it up. It is cliched, of course, but Barat and Doherty are this millennium's Jagger and Richards and a band without one of them is only the Libertines for commercial purposes, not artistic ones. It is obviously a crying shame as when the two of them are together they combine to form one of the most compelling partnerships in twenty-first century music. For once, after so, so long, Britain has a great rock band on its hands and, unfortunately, it is anyone's guess (Pete included) as to whether they will be around to fulfil their potential. Unfortunately, despite the obviously high grade, this album fails to completely and utterly seal such a status. Like their debut, it is a great album. However, like their debut, it also just falls short of absolute classic status. There is stylistic change on the go but the disjointed nature of their career, the on-off estrangement of Carl and Pete, means there is perhaps less refinement in their sound than other bands manage on their second effort. Their musical partnership is still utterly unique, though, with their ragged and sloppy vocals and guitar parts somehow merging into a coherent whole in a way one can only marvel at. That said, this time around Mick Jones has to bear the brunt of the criticism. The production is as rough and ready as before, muffling some of the extra nuances the band have developed second time around, and most of the arrangements just peter out into nothing. I realise the insane looseness of their playing is part of the appeal but now and again the songs are let down by prolonged periods of empty-headed fiddling around, "Don't Be Shy" and "Road to Ruin" being the biggest culprits. Tightness does not always suit bands but a touch of professionalism here and there would not have gone amiss. Still, the sloppiness of the arrangements does grant the album a greater flow than the debut and one is carried along by the melodies and riffs bumping into each other as the album progresses. The spiteful rush of "The Ha Ha Wall" and the lackadaisical swagger of "What Katie Did" are particular beneficiaries of the loose flow of the set. It would be brazen to claim there are more great songs than there were on Up the Bracket but, nonetheless, the hooks do soon sink in with "The Last Post on the Bugle", "The Man Who Would Be King" and "Music When the Lights Go Out" standing out. Unsurprisingly the lyrics often concentrate on the troubled partnership of Doherty and Barat with the former insincerely contrite on "The Man Who Would Be King" and "The Saga" given his swift descent back into old habits. The two key tracks on the album and no doubt the two that will become most famous are the opening "Can't Stand Me Now" and the closing "What Became of the Likely Lads". Pete and Carl trade vocals and guitar lines in loving fashion and the moments when Pete takes over the vocals on both songs make you picture him staring longingly into Carl's eyes. The former is uncontroversially the best song on the album (dig that harmonica break at the end) and is the only song that really matches the highs of "Death on the Stairs", "Time for Heroes", "Boys in the Band" and "Up the Bracket". It is not all marriage counselling, though, as plenty of songs continue to perfectly reflect and dwell upon London life, the wryly observed "Campaign of Hate" in particular. The consistency of this album is an improvement but not enough for it to really surpass the debut. It is still a great album but the external issues that plagued the first are still just as pressing second time around. I don't like to lecture people on drug-taking but Pete Doherty's heroin habit must be one of the most tragic in the modern world. If the potential provided by their first two albums is never capitalised on it will be the greatest tragedy of them all.

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Email me at: jackfeeny@yahoo.co.uk