Better to burn out than to fade away? Nah, the Albion sails on mateys! Jamie Parmenter’s whistle-stop tour through the chaos and creation, laughter & lust, of The Libertines.

Words & curation by Jamie Parmenter, cover art by Mick Clarke

Being at university during the whole ‘noughties post-punk revival’ meant that I was cordially invited (whether I liked it or not) to a new wave of last-minute, chaotic guerilla gigs, housebound aftershow parties, and rough-cut demos released instantly though slow, cable-based internet.

Many bands in this new movement, especially The Libertines, wanted fans to be a part of everything they did, with nothing hidden - it was all out in the open. New music would be uploaded instantly to forums, probably to the horror of the money men at the label. Band tensions, arguments and fights were openly channelled through the music, tabloids, and the band members themselves. It was this inclusivity and the excitement created from this chaotic atmosphere that I enjoyed most.

The platonic love between frontmen Pete Doherty and Carl Barât was infectious and really set The Libertines apart. The two meeting in London (where both attended and subsequently quit, university) was a coming together of cosmic proportions. Add into the mix the raucous drumming of Gary Powell and the paradoxically calm and collected bass of John Hassall, and you had the right mix for Pete and Carl to really stir things up for guitar-based indie music, a scene which at the time otherwise lacked controversy.

A series of early demos was enough to get the band noticed and eventually signed to the perfect label for their punk, DIY attitude, namely Rough Trade Records. They released their blistering debut Up The Bracket in 2002, produced by Mick Jones of The Clash. Jones was the perfect choice to translate the band’s fervour and chaotic sound onto record whilst somehow holding everything together in the studio to create a signature sound. It was raw, wild, fresh and thrilling.

There was no going back for me once I’d heard the riff of opening track ‘Vertigo’. Powerful and surging, it’s the perfect signal for everything that follows. ‘Death on the Stairs’ and ‘Time for Heroes’ then reveal the band’s raw energy and power, while Pete and Carl’s penchant for wordplay against rough and ready, fuzzy guitar creates a depth to counteract the album’s punk sensibility. Through a cacophony came the words of poets and deep thinkers, romantics who were not afraid to express their innermost vulnerabilities. They were like a band turned inside out.

Seeing them live during this period was an eye-opener. Held in sweaty pub backrooms, secret venues announced only hours before showtime (did The Libertines invent the ‘flashmob’ gig?) or even in their own tiny flat, this ‘come one come all’ attitude felt like a breath of fresh air. Although Mick Jones did a great job getting the tracks down on record, nothing could compare to hearing their songs live. They were exhilarating, and just like the punk subculture of the 70s, the crowd and the band fed off each other as their tight-knit community of fans began to expand.

Then, just as their momentum gathered, so did the hostilities between Pete and Carl. The constant chaos of their live tours, the booze and the drugs, and the ‘rock & roll lifestyle’ began to tell and tensions were revealed, especially for Doherty, who had been taken over by heroin addiction - his pale, drawn face and skinny frame in the UK tabloid papers every day. Doherty missed shows, or the duo would argue and fight on stage whenever they did manage to play together. Everything eventually (inevitably?) ended with Doherty actually robbing Barât’s flat, before spending two months in prison.

With fans wondering if this was the end, news spread that Carl was to meet Pete outside of prison on the day of his release, with all to be forgiven. This was most likely a publicity stunt arranged by the label, but it still brought a tear to my eye when it did actually happen. All was right with the world! But not for long...they didn’t have enough to keep it together.

It seems a small miracle that their second album, The Libertines, got made at all, let alone that it contained some great songs. During the recording sessions, the two frontmen were barely on talking terms, and both had their own bouncers in the studio to keep them apart. Rock ‘n’ roll, eh? It was through the music that we the fans gained insights into the band’s psyche. From the brutally honest opener of ‘Can’t Stand Me Now’ (“Have we enough to keep it together? Or do we just keep on pretending, and hope our luck is never-ending”), to ‘What Became of the Likely Lads’, the record still had that Libertines edge to it, even if everything really was falling apart at the seams. They eventually split in 2004.

With the demise of the band, we did see a plethora of side projects and new music from the two frontmen and even bassist John Hassall. It may not have all been great, but there are some diamonds in the rough. Barat’s band, Dirty Pretty Things, gave us ‘Bang Bang You’re Dead’ and Doherty’s French-titled ‘La Belle Et La Bete’ from his Babyshambles project, rolls along in a chaotically pleasing fashion. Both are included here.

Thirteen years after their debut, The Libertines reformed (time as they say, is a great healer) and released Anthems for Doomed Youth in 2015. It might not be as blisteringly as their early work, but it does show off a more contained, ‘zen’ attitude of a band more content and balanced. Personally, I’ll always have a deep connection to their early demos, some of which were eventually released through the band’s various side projects and a special edition of their third album. The beauty of Pete’s solo version of ‘Sheepskin Tearaway’, the camaraderie in ‘7 Deadly Sins’, and the punchy roughness of ‘Bucket Shop’ – again all here.

Some may have preferred The Libertines to leave it at those first two albums and disappear off the face of the earth in a typical ‘burn out not fade away’ ending, but not me. Pete and Carl are destined to play together for the rest of their lives, as bandmates, kindred spirits and possibly even, friends. Let the Albion sail on!

Jamie Parmenter is Founder and editor, Vinyl Chapters.