Craig Stephen on a belated yet still rather impressive addition to The Libertines legacy …
Here we are again: the lads’ lads are back in town for
another crack at lighting up the Libertines torch after nearly a decade in
abeyance.
Despite all the much-publicised infighting and
excessive lifestyles, the erstwhile leaders of the Libertines - Pete Doherty
and Carl Barat - need each other and they need the vehicle of the Libertines to
display their varied and esoteric talents.
Like ABBA there was always going to be a reunion,
because it seems easier to reunite than to stay out of each other’s reach. You
see, messrs Barat and Doherty’s solo careers haven’t exactly gone to plan:
Babyshambles was, well, a shambles, and I challenge you to name a solo Barat
album. Getting the band back together wasn’t such a bad idea, eh?
All Quiet on the Eastern Esplanade - the title’s a subtle nod to the literary war classic by Erich Maria Remarque - is the quartet’s first album since the middling Anthems for Doomed Youth (again, you see the literary reference in the title) released in 2015. It is also only their fourth studio album in almost a quarter of a century.
Nine years is a long time in music and changes are
mostly visual. For example, Doherty now looks like John Belushi though Barat
still has that eastern European lothario look about him. Unusually, the
original four-piece remains tight, 20-plus years after forming, with Gary
Powell on drums and John Hassell on bass - the understated but indispensable
‘other two’ of the gang.
They now have their own hotel, the Albion Rooms, in
faded seaside resort Margate in Kent. The hotel website reveals that it
contains seven “uniquely designed” rooms, a venue, studio and bars. And, of
course, it is where All Quiet on the Eastern Esplanade was recorded.
Doherty and Barat’s observations of a decaying Britain
pepper the album, most notably on ‘Merry Old England’ where they question where
the country is at now, and asks the Syrians, Iraqis, and Ukrainians who have
fled their conflict-torn homelands “Oh how you finding Merry Old England?”.
Referencing Dalby Square - a former pristine part of
Margate which is now the home to many people on Jobseekers Allowance - the
Libertines find that even the feted white cliffs of Dover are now “decaying in
the sodium light”.
Inspiration for the album was just around the corner
in Margate. It is a town notable for its “poverty-based polarisation”
(according to researchers), with people divided into extremes of wealth and
deprivation, and very few in the middle.
In ‘Mustangs’, we meet Traci, who likes a “1 Litre
Liquor prize” while the kids are at school. Dropping in an iconic American
clothing manufacturer, we find Traci “in her Juicy Couture tracksuit, she
stares at the wall”, full of dreams and an escape from the drudgery of her
life.
There are hints of Britain’s wealth disparity on the covers. Yes, plural as there’s one cover for the LP and one for the CD. Both feature the same range of characters: a well-to-do woman dressed for another era, a mother with a cigarette in her mouth pushing a pram (possibly Traci), a Sloane Ranger carrying bags from trendy shops, a backpacking busker and a couple of footballing-loving young lads.
We are party to the new regime in ‘Shiver’, after
queues formed around several blocks in London last year to see “the old girl
boxed away” leading to a coronation day for a new king.
Long gone are those fast and blast days of the
rousing, raucous debut. Over the years the quartet have developed into more divergent
soundscapes. And, yes, that means even ballads. In a good way. Album closer
‘Songs They Never Play On The Radio’ (cos .. “You can stream them now for free
and save your soul”) is quite beautiful yet played with passion.
It’s the perfect riposte to ‘Be Young’, one of three
“bangers” which any old punk would appreciate. The other two are ‘Oh Shit’ and
the first track ‘Run Run Run’, an equal to any early Libertines single. The
opening refrain “It’s a lifelong project of a life on the lash,” could be a
self-confession. The protagonist is “an old-time blagger/ A dab hand in a band/
Still knows the streets of Camden like the back of his hand.”
There’s a wistful melancholy that pervades All Quiet …
But also a feeling that the past isn’t really a glamorous location. Nor is the
present. It resonates with a touch of anger, of how England has become, a
nation where you’ll either be rich or die in abject poverty. It’s a sad state
of a country in managed decline.
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