Album Review: The Libertines - 'All Quiet On The Eastern Esplanade'
When you think of legendary songwriting partnerships, who springs to mind? Lennon and McCartney, of course. Jagger and Richards. Strummer and Jones. Morrissey and Marr. Arguably, they all pale in comparison to that of Pete Doherty and Carl Barât’s fabled relationship, at least in terms of shocking lows and unlikely longevity. Argue about which creative dynamic was the most artistically fruitful all you want, but there’s no denying that for sheer drama, romanticism, and mythology, no one comes close to Pete and Carl.
The pair founded The Libertines in 1997, with bassist John Hassall and drummer Gary Powell later completing the lineup. They signed to Rough Trade in 2001, the label willing to take a chance on the charmingly dishevelled four-piece because they had a similar sound to The Strokes, who had released the era-defining ‘Is This It’ earlier that year. Significant critical and commercial success followed (‘Can’t Stand Me Now’ reached no.2 in the singles charts, while its parent record ‘The Libertines’ topped the album chart), but inter-band relationships were at an all-time low. Doherty’s increasingly frequent hard drug use put considerable strain on his relationship with Barât, and after a series of scandals and arrests- all regurgitated by the British tabloids, naturally- the band finally broke up in December 2004. It’s a miracle that they lasted so long. Even more surprising, then, is the fact that, twenty years, numerous reunions, and one comeback album later, the band are back with their fourth LP ‘All Quiet On The Eastern Esplanade’. Somehow, Pete and Carl’s relationship is intact, and we get to find out what became of the likely lads.
But with the Albion – an archaic word for England which Doherty and Barât adopted as the name for their fictional ship sailing to Arcadia, essentially a mythologised conception of their band - seemingly back on course, is there anything left to say? More than you might think. Where The Libertines once looked exclusively inwards, and almost always to England’s historical past, here we find them branching out, embracing the wider world and exploring topical issues for the first time in their career. Of course, it’s not all change. The album title ‘All Quiet On The Eastern Esplanade’ is classic Libs, a literary reference filtered through their own perspective; ‘Night Of The Hunter’ and ‘Baron’s Claw’ are both inspired by vintage cinema, while ‘Shiver’ sees the pair lamenting the death of the late Queen- or “the old girl”, as Barât fondly puts it- just as they paid tribute to Queen Boadicea on ‘Up The Bracket’ album track ‘The Good Old Days’. Doherty and Barât are still obsessed with a mythic kind of Englishness, but there’s added scrutiny; ‘Merry Old England’ is an acknowledgment that maybe England is not the utopic Arcadia they so often sing about, painting a less romanticised picture of “Crisp packets and puddles on the ground”, as Pete ponders what refugees must make of our country after arriving on its shores. “Is it everything that you dreamed of?”, he asks over dreamy progressions and dramatic strings.
‘I Have A Friend’ is perhaps the closest the band come to recapturing their trademark mix of poetry and punk, with its scratchy guitars and pounding drums recalling ‘Last Post on the Bugle’ from their self-titled. However, lyrically the song looks out to the Ukraine war for inspiration: “It’s hard to theorize when you’re being brutalised/ And the tears fall like bombs without warning”, Doherty sings in a mournfully melodic chorus, which makes a nice change of pace from the rest of the track. It’s vintage Libertines, filtered through a modern lens, which is exactly what makes the raw, punky ska of ‘Be Young’ work as well- climate change somehow seems that bit more pressing when Carl Barât is telling you “You’re one degree away/ From total and utter fucking annihilation”.
Moments like these, when the band present their honest thoughts on the modern world around them, are when the record feels authentically Libertines. There are other times- namely lead single ‘Run Run Run’, and fourth single ‘Oh Shit’- where their attempts at rowdiness feel a little forced, like they were written with a Libs-by-numbers guide. In fairness, ‘Run Run Run’ is a definite grower, and actually quite layered in its irony (intentional or not), considering Barât’s declaration that “The worst thing for The Libertines would be to get stuck in a ‘run run run’ rut, constantly trying to rewrite our past”. ‘Oh Shit’, on the other hand, is pretty surface level, but it is fun and catchy, and on an album with some weighty themes, it’s a well-placed moment of levity which will no doubt become a live favourite.
In fact, it’s easy to imagine these songs coming into their own live, without the glossy sheen of producer Dimitri Tikovoï, known for his work with Charlie XCX and Becky Hill. While he may be the perfect fit for such pop acts, he doesn’t always suit The Libertines, particularly on these fast-paced songs, which are crying out for the back-to-basics approach of former Clash man Mick Jones, who produced their first two albums back in the early 2000s. Snippets of studio banter are often heard between songs here, but coming after such polished production they do feel just a tad staged, whereas Jones’ ‘The Libertines’ plays almost like a live album, songs bleeding into one another seamlessly, with studio anecdotes low in the mix, little gems which you might only catch on your tenth listen.
That said, Tikovoï does a stellar job on some of the album’s slower songs, which don’t require Jones’ grimy chaos, and instead excel in their sparseness. ‘Man With The Melody’, a Hassall-penned ballad sung by every member of the band, is delicate and enchanting; ‘Baron’s Claw’ is a jazzy, pleasingly off-kilter exercise in hollywood gothicism; ‘Shiver’ is melancholic and reflective, a sonic funeral parade which points to poetry and music as “Reasons to stay alive/ Not to die at 25”, a particularly striking observation seeing as Doherty always seemed destined to join the 27 club. That he has avoid this fate, and is able to look back on that time through songs like ‘Shiver’, is deeply moving.
Perhaps the most emotive song, however, is ‘Night Of The Hunter’, which starts as a reference to the Charles Laughton film of the same name, and evolves into a heartbreaking tale of revenge and regret. Boasting what might just be one of The Libertines’ best ever choruses, the song plays like a darker update of second-album classic ‘Music When The Lights Go Out’, with foreboding bell chimes and a strangely natural Blur sample all adding to the despairingly powerful atmosphere of the track. It’s easily the best song on the album, and arguably one of the best singles of their career. Not that it doesn’t have competition; album closer ‘Songs They Never Play On The Radio’ is a Doherty composition which dates back to 2006, and it shows. A shimmering ballad of cracked beauty, it marks a return to the band’s self-mythologising, introspective early material, with its opening couplet “Songs they never play on the radio/ As the cobwebs fall on the old shipping wrecker”, an apparent reference to their beloved Albion, which at the time of writing had seen better days.
The Doherty/ Barât dynamic takes centre stage in a chorus which asks what became of “the pact we made?”, before asserting “You know you should’ve stayed/ The day you went away”. It would be heart-wrenching if we weren’t safe in the knowledge that Pete and Carl would eventually make up, and sail the good ship Albion into calmer waters. Even so, the song remains bittersweet and incredibly touching, the perfect conclusion to a collection of songs which (largely) demonstrate a subtle, self-aware maturation for the band.
‘Pigman’ has long been Carl’s affectionate nickname for Pete, and on the glorious swing of second track ‘Mustang’, Carl revives the character: “Here’s to Pigman in the lowrider smokin’ rollies in the sunset”, he smiles, and just like that, we find out what became of the likely lads. They became friends again. And if modern England isn’t quite the Arcadia that they always dreamed of, at least they have the Albion back on course.
With a ship like that, the possibilities are endless.
Words by Ben Left
