The Libertines’ newest, self-titled release, rocks and stumbles with the same reckless energy with which frontman Pete Doherty has been living his life lately. Carrying the distinctive stamp (and stomp) of producer Mick Jones, The Libertines carries the same torch that Jones’ Clash used to spark a new wave bonfire at the end of the 1970s. Fueled by the conveniently labeled boxes the music industry has been tossing artists and records into since that first fire fizzled out, this new blaze is just getting started, and if the Libertines and their peers can keep it together long enough, they might just shake things up long enough to pass their own torches down the line.
Spewing forth self-loathing and disillusionment in the form of alternative radio-friendly, ska-inflected rock, Doherty and company touch on just about every British rock and roll revolution since the Beatles, managing to squeeze in just enough of the fab four’s infectious melodies to call it pop. The disc alternates between raucous punk and dejected almost-ballads, occasionally stopping halfway for the frilly-sock, be-bop, surf rock of “Can’t Stand Me Now,” damn near the best and catchiest opening track of 2004, and the sarcastically happy rock-a-billy of “Narcissist,” an ironic barrage of hatred and disgust aimed directly at the wantonly self-destructive beautiful people whose ranks these new darlings of the British music press are slowly but surely joining.
“Arbeit Macht Frei” is raw, headbanging, hardcore slop, complete with a sharp and shoddy guitar solo, and damn it’s good to hear a one-minute punk song again, but the two closing tracks, “Road to Ruin” and “What Became of the Likely Lads,” sum it all up in a one-two problem-and resolution-punch that asks as many questions as it answers. Pondering the relationship between the frustrated individual and a society that refuses to budge an inch, the former wonders why we can’t just leave it all behind and charge forward with a stiff drink and a big “fuck you” to the whole lot of ‘em, and the follower concludes by pointing the blame inward with an angry but diplomatic look back at the falls from grace and ruined potential that are always someone else’s fault.
Full of crippling frustration, regret and self-loathing,
The Libertines often sounds like the premature swan song from a group that’s had enough and then some and is ready to give it up right here and now, but one hopes that the quartet can harness the energy of the vitriolic indictments in “Campaign of Hate” and “Tomblands” rather than succumbing to the victimism of “Music When the Lights Go Out” and “Road to Ruin.” More than likely, they’ll continue to lurch forward, rocking out their rage with numbers like “Saga,” but one can almost see them kicking back in their old age, reminiscing on their days in a rock band much like “Last Post on the Bugle” recollects Molly Ringwald getting footloose in her frilly Sixteen Candles socks while Michael Anthony Hall waits in the wings. Whatever it might turn out to be, it sure beats kicking yourself in the head.
