Discuss: The Libertines – one of the most exciting personality clashes since Mick & Keef/Strummer & Jones/Morrissey & Marr, or Jam-my dodgers in matching emperor’s new Sgt. Pepper suits who struck lucky with a couple of decent tunes?
Aw, who cares.
Having assessed Babyshambles’ debut some months ago (pretty damn good for a car crash on legs) let us now consider Monsieur Barat’s combo on its own merits.
First off, fans of either the aforementioned acts will be pleased to know that Carl has not customised this new vehicle as a means of fulfilling that long-harboured jazz odyssey or Lithuanian folk fetish. Nope, the opening ‘Deadwood’ tells you pretty much all you need to know about what’s ahead: spunky, punky guitar riffs, a nod to the late-60s more-fills-please school of power trio beatkeeping (courtesy of ex Libber Gary Powell), and a cheeky, nod’s-as-good-as-a-wink approach to songwriting that evokes early Who, Kinks and Small Faces hopped up on late 70s pep pills. (Did somebody say Arctic Monkeys?)
If Barat is anything like his songs, he’s one of those itchy, twitchy guys you really don’t want to be stuck next to on a long train journey. He seems obsessed with squeezing as much musical flotsam as possible into otherwise unambivalent assemblies of verse, chorus and bridge.
For instance, ‘Doctors & Dealers’ slinks slyly through the back door before the meds kick in and it starts barreling around your kitchen in one hell of an amphetamine rush. ‘Bang Bang You’re Dead’ promises Specials-style skank then quickly changes its mind and settles into classic Libertines by way of Blur kitchen stink drama.
Mind you, they do sulky and skulking very well, as with ‘Blood Thirsty Bastards’ and ‘If You Love A Woman’. Elsewhere ‘The Gentry Cove’ locates the sea shanty hidden in white reggae and lashes it to a tight, taut Clash-like frame. ‘Gin & Milk’ has the best punky-ragga guitar break since ‘Vision Of Division’ off the last Strokes album. And ‘Wondering’ boasts the album’s best tune, arrangement, and lyric, somewhere between Ruts-y toughness, Only Ones poise and All Mod Cons economy.
At 11 tunes in 33 minutes, these guys don’t mince riffs. Waterloo To Anywhere is not going to revolutionise the form, but for those of you who believe the thrum of Pythagoras’ cosmic monochord ain’t nothing compared to a Tele through an AC30 backed by a guy who knows what to do with a Gretsch kit, this might just make your weekend.