Back in 2004, you’d have got long odds on The Libertines being a going concern 20 years later. Back then, Britain’s hottest, most dangerous new band had finally imploded after two albums of scuzzy but tuneful indie that was infused with street squalor humour and self-mythologising gutter poetry about a far-gone whimsical version of England. Drugs, betrayal and jail had done for the for the charismatic but combustible Pete Doherty/Carl Barat axis; Doherty seemed certain to become a drugs casualty.
Yet here we in 2024 with the wind in the sails of the good ship Albion. This year’s fourth album All Quiet on the Eastern Esplanade, their second since a reformation that has been in various stages of repair since 2010, answered the question of what The Libertines might sound like after 25 years, minus the rancour and the chaos and the smack (Doherty’s now happily married in France, his main vice expensive cheese). For the most part, it turns out to be something altogether more wistful and statelier.
It made the first of three nights in Camden, the culmination of a UK tour, a more unusual Libertines event. It was, as ever, endearingly ramshackle: it took a couple of songs to get going; at times it was rickety, at others thrilling. But across eight new songs, a newer version of the band was emerging. There were echoes of the past: “Run Run Run”, the most recognisably Libertines-like of the new material, received a huge response as it raced along, though it lacked the tension of old, more akin to the indie landfill they inadvertently inspired.
But for the first time ever, Doherty told us in the encore, they were joined sporadically by a string section, brilliantly dressed in the red military jackets of the band’s youth. It was a laudable ambition they never had the wherewithal to pull off back in the day. There were teething problems – the strings were barely audible for most of their first appearance during fifth song “Night of the Hunter” – but they beautifully augmented new songs “Shiver” and “Merry Old England”, whose sound was pitched somewhere between Doherty’s 2022 work with Frederic Lo and The Good, The Bad and The Queen-era Damon Albarn-esque balladry. They elevated old favourite “Music When The Lights Go Out” into something even more affecting.
But too much of the slower material mid-set sapped energy; it took “Vertigo” (one of many songs driven along by the powerhouse prowess of drummer Gary Powell) to raise it back. It was the first time the burly Doherty and foot-stomping, wiry Barat – both dressed in suit jackets and trilby – sang into the same mic together, as they used to do so evocatively, during the raucous climax. For the following “Death on the Stairs” they played guitar looking directly into each other’s eyes. Rather than being a knowingly showbizzy display, after everything, it was heart-warming to see their chemistry intact.
A rush to the finish took everyone with them despite some stumbles; “Horrorshow” was a blistering highlight; “Can’t Stand Me Now”, about Pete’n’Carl’s love/hate relationship, displayed everything Libertines Mk1 did best. A closing finale of their most loved songs “Time for Heroes” and “Don’t Look Back into the Sun” summoned their early vim, and incited the sort of excited, celebratory joy that few bands can match, even now.
The Libertines play at the Roundhouse tonight and tomorrow (roundhouse.org.uk/whats-on/the-libertines)