Live Review: The Libertines - Castlefield Bowl, Manchester 01/07/22
Pete Doherty, Carl Barat, John Hassall and Gary Powell sail the good ship albion back into Manchester celebrating 20 years of The Libertines’ iconic debut album. Dave Beech and Amelia Jones were there.
The Libertines are a band that have always divided opinion. Even now, 20 years after their hedonistic heyday, there’s still those who can’t see past the ‘00s tabloid headlines that dogged the band through that era. Even when Pete’s more likely now to be found with a wheel of camembert than a rock of crack cocaine, they refuse to see that That Libertines, for all their ramshackle indie oikishness, are one of most important indie bands that the UK has ever given rise to.
Conversely however, there are those of us who’ve been there from the start. Those whose misspent youth they soundtracked, and who, for better or worse, romanticised the band, their lyrics, and the UK they depicted.
As one might expect, it’s those that fall in the latter category that are here tonight, celebrating 20 years of the band’s debut album Up the Bracket and everything it meant to them. But first, there’s the small matter of London’s Sports Team to attend to.
A sketchy start for five-piece leaves us dubious as to the quality of what’s to follow, though thankfully any reservations are soon put to bed as they plough through a short yet sweet set of their own brand of loose and ramshackle indie rock. They’re a fitting support, the crowd front and centre descending quickly into a beery mass of flailing limbs and ecstatic grins. And by the time previous single ‘Fishing’ gets an airing, the crowd, and indeed the band, are well and truly warmed up.
Of course, it’s The Libertines everyone’s here to see, and as the four-piece take to the stage in front a backdrop of Up the Bracket’s iconic artwork, the roar that engulfs Castlefield Bowl is testament to just how important this band were, and indeed still are, to so many.
That said, Libertines gigs are always met with a degree of uncertainty and anxiety. This writer alone has experienced last-minute cancellations, poor sound, and sub-par solo performances from the band before now, and most fans have similar stories. Yet there’s a reason we keep coming back, and tonight proves to be the perfect justification.
As expected, the band launch immediately into album opener ‘Vertigo’, its sleaze-soaked riff sounding just as fresh as it did on release, but its ‘Horrorshow’ that sees the band really break into their stride, yet its following track, fan-favourite ‘Time for Heroes’ in which the crowd really lose their collective shit.
From here on out we’re in safe territory. The band and crowd are on form and watching Pete and Carl jostle for space in front of the mic, as if 20 years haven’t past, is an absolute joy. Elsewhere the likes of ‘The Boy Looked At Johnny’ and the eponymous ‘Up the Bracket’ get a rapturous response, but later album tracks such as ‘Begging’ and ‘The Good Old Days’ fall a little flat in comparison.
Of course, as the final notes to ‘I Get Along’ finish the album and the band’s first set, the same sense of elation has descended on the crowd and thoughts turn to just what the rest of the evening will entail.
We don’t have to wait long to find out.
Later singles such as ‘You’re My Waterloo’ and a joyous outing of ‘Gunga Din’ make the cut, proving that even after reforming the band still harboured some serious song-writing chops, while a couple of early B-Sides, ‘Bangkok’ and ‘Plan A’ also get a rare airing, much to delight of the older fans.
A woozy rendition of ‘What Katie Did’ sees the whole crowd shoop-shooping, and marks the first foray into material from their second and self-titled album. The triple assault of ‘What Became of the Likely Lads’, ‘Can’t Stand Me Now’ and ‘Music When the Lights Go Out’ forces the crowd into previously unseen levels of joy, before a quietly sombre outing of Babyshambles’ ‘Albion’ sees Carl on piano duties and Pete providing the tender vocals.
It's the calm before the storm, however. A raucous and riotous ‘Don’t Look Back Into the Sun’ brings an end to the proceedings, and to any doubts harboured by anyone that The Libertines are just another landfill indie band. And as drummer Gary Powell walks forward to join his bandmates for a final bow, the grin on his face says it all.
Long live The Libertines.
Words by Dave Beech
Photos by Amelia Jones
