Like so many great British bands, the allure of the Libertines was found in the complex and complicated relationship of its frontmen, Carl Barat and Pete Doherty. There was a playful, innocent, yet dangerous and volatile energy that surrounded the two and translated into cheeky lyrics and unabashed performance. Their relationship was as important to the band as the songs they wrote.
The Telegraph interviews former Libertine Carl Barat: “There’s no real causes any more. If you want to stand and be counted with a passion, there’s little opportunity to do so; everything’s so grey and diffuse. But a rock and roll band can still be something you can throw your entire life into.”
In their native England, the Libertines are top. With the NME already mad for the young lads’ herky-jerky jumble of Clashing Buzzcockian modternative, things got even better when co-frontman Pete Doherty was kicked out on his arse by supposed pal and fellow singer Carl Barat. Drama! Issues! Rock and roll and skinny pants – it was the kind of soap opera that everyone loves, but that the British journos slop up with hunks of stale bread.
The band did make it to America briefly last spring, causing trouble at Coachella and selling out some shows in the Strokes’ backyard. But then Doherty was dropped and the ‘Tine trajectory flailed. Up the Bracket was receiving its critical due domestically, if not a popular one, so the chance that we Americans would ever be able to check the band’s meaning once more before the foot shooting ceremony was nil. But ho ho, not so fast. This month finds the boys in the band car jamming the states yet again, which found Glorious Noise hanging at the Empty Bottle to see about the noise annoys.