Pete Doherty and Carl Barat performing with The Libertines (Photo: Gary Mather for Live4ever Media)
Once the UK’s most controversial, and one of its most lauded, acts, in 2019 The Libertines occupy their own orbit, as they always have.
They’ve been reunited for longer than they originally existed (originally the band came together for a reunion in 2010, then once again in 2014) and in that nine-year period have headlined festivals and played their own big shows, as well as offering up a fresh album (Anthems For Doomed Youth back in 2015) to sit comfortably alongside their side-projects.
That album was four years ago with not a new crochet heard since, the hotel/pub in Margate the band has launched seemingly taking up all their time and energy. Yet Peter Doherty has released two solo albums in the meantime, and rumours of a fourth album have been blowing in the wind for a while now. One can hope this winter tour is to get them match-fit for a new campaign; the audience doesn’t get any glimpses of the future though, as tonight (Dec 16th) is primarily about nostalgia. Not wholly, but largely.
Because this band still means a lot to people. The joy on the faces of the audience (largely in their thirties, as to be expected) as the foursome stride on stage and launch into the ramshackle The Delaney acts as perfect demonstration. Rarely does the pleasure let up. Band and audience have matured together; Pete’s current look straddles Albert Steptoe in full duffle coat and flat cap before switching to Peaky Blinder once the coat is gone. Carl, meanwhile, is more debonair, his combination of cravat and braces recalling the English gentleman of days of yore.
One has to feel for John and Gary, especially given they are the heartbeat of the band. Great lyricists and unique showmen Pete ’n’ Carl may be, but as guitarists they are both limited and so it’s down to the rhythm section to demonstrate their class (although John may as well give up trying on backing vocals). The dubby Gunga Din makes the venue vibrate, while it’s no surprise that Gary has always gone topless such is the shift he puts in. His tinny and powerful rattling on Boys In The Band and Can’t Stand Me Now make the songs transcendent, and his solo before The Good Old Days is a particular highlight.
This aside, there’s very little in the way of improvisation. The Libertines’ precariousness was always their charm but that won’t wash two decades in, so tonight borders on professional and crowd-pleasing with no fat. The four-piece sing in harmony on Dead For Love in a show of companionship, while Carl conducts the inevitable singalong for What Katie Did. It’s heartening that they have faith in the newer material to sit alongside the classics, but there’s no doubting why everyone’s here, as they drown the venue in vocals for closer Don’t Look Back Into The Sun.
So where does that put The Libertines? Heritage act? Partly. Relevant force in British guitar music? Ish. Crowd-pleasers? Unequivocally. What became of the likely lads? We’re no closer to having an answer. Thank goodness.
