- Music
- 25 Aug 15
Indie legends stage surprisingly credible return
t’s hard to believe that it’s been over a decade since The Libertines released their self-titled second album, the follow-up to their hard-hitting 2002 debut Up The Bracket. Harder still to believe that roguish trouble-magnet Pete Doherty is still with us, and not serving a lengthy prison stretch or – horror of horrors – rotting away six feet under. At the height of the band’s success, they were far more famous for his heroin lifestyle and multiple arrests than for any rock ‘n’ roll achievements. Well, they’ve ridden that out and they’re back, which is an achievement in itself.
When the crack-addicted Sean Ryder and the Happy Mondays recorded Yes Please! in Barbados, every week the music inkies had a fresh horror story about the band’s misadventures. The 12 songs that make up Anthems For Doomed Youth were laid down over five weeks in Karma Sounds Studios in Thailand, and, in contrast, the recording seems to have been relatively trouble-free.
While the two previous Libertines studio albums were helmed by Mick Jones of The Clash, Jake Gosling handles production duties here. The choice of the One Direction/Ed Sheeran producer might seem a strange one, but it proves to be inspired. Although it’s ostensibly an indie/garage rock album, there’s more pop polish to these guitar-driven tracks than is apparent on the first listen. In short, they’re mostly serious growers.
Doherty and Barat share vocal duties throughout, often taking different verses of the same song and joining in with the rest of the band – bassist John Hassall and drummer Gary Powell – on the choruses. There’s a rumbling bass and low-key kick off with ‘Barbarians’ – an updated version of the old Babyshambles number, formerly titled ‘Natives At The Gates Of Rome’. It’s reminiscent of The Jam’s ‘That’s Entertainment’ with a truly memorable chorus: “All I want is to scream out loud/ And have it up with a mental crowd/ ‘cos I believe somehow the world’s fucked/ but it won’t get me down.”
Taking its title from an old Kipling poem, lead single ‘Gunga Din’ is as vibey as it gets, with Doherty playing on his bad boy image. “I tried to write cos I got the right/ to make it look as though I’m doing something with my life/ Got to find a vein/ it’s always the same/ and a drink to ease the panic and suffering.” The anthemic chorus is quite possibly the best moment on the album: “I know the road is long/ if you stay strong/ you’re a better man than I am.” It ends with a scream of, “Oh, what are you doing, you stupid fucking idiot?! Wake up!” I’m not sure Kipling would have approved.
The upbeat ‘Fame and Fortune’ is the most laddishly London song here. “Like tin soldiers responding to the call/ to Camden we will crawl one and all/ Ohhh down to trash and lordy lords/ by icons we were lured one and all.” A raucously silly singalong, it’s destined to be a live favourite.
While there’s nothing particularly musically adventurous here, it’s all tightly delivered. At times, they come across like a hybrid of the Arctic Monkeys and a mellow-period The Fall. The real creative blood and guts lie in the confessional lyrics. References to drink, drugs, mindless violence and prison abound – often in the same song. The title track sees Barat singing, “In the pub that night/ racking out lines of shite/ Putting to right all of the world’s great wrongs... Told the governor’s wife about the last night of his life/ She turned away in tears/ called you a liar.”
‘Belly of the Beast’ starts jauntily before blowing up at the end, and focuses on Doherty’s stint in a Thai rehab centre: “Packed up and I headed East/ headed for the belly of the beast/ But within Bangkok’s half hour/ I was waylaid by a lower power.” He had gone to Thailand at the suggestion of a London counsellor who told him, “Pound for pound/ blow for blow/ You’re the most fucked-up motherfucker I know.”
Appropriately, this is an album of songs about highs and lows. Some of the most effective ones are the ballads (‘Iceman’, in particular). ‘The Milkman’s Horse’ is as epically melancholic as they come, “What you done/ get out of my dreams, you scum...”
Longstanding fans of The Libertines will undoubtedly adore this record. It’s not quite a classic, but it will also probably attract some new converts. Lord have mercy on their souls.
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