Sunday, July 04, 2004

Review: "The Libertines"

Pete Doherty is a talented songwriter. He's written about six or seven albums worth of material by now. He wanted to release another Libertines album right after "Up The Bracket" but Rough Trade wouldn't go for it. If we were living in the 1960s, we would have seen a lot more from the Libertines--we're talking Dylan or Beatles levels of or two albums a year.

This being 2004 and the era of the sensible album every three years followed by the two year world tour, the band sticks out like a sore thumb and Pete destroys himself because all he knows how to do is write and record songs, with maybe a bit of playing live on the side.

Ultimately it's the big tours and the unnecessary gaps in proper recording that have dramatically worsened his addiction issues. As one of Pete's idols once sang, "the devil will find work for idle hands to do". It will probably take his death for people around him to realize that, which is a fucking scandal.

Look out your window and you'll see vultures circling, intoxicated with the stench of imminent death currently emanating from our hero. The very system that created Pete is licking its chops, waiting with bated breath for him to keel over so it can start cleaning the whole thing up. Remember when Tony Wilson said the best thing Ian Curtis ever did for his career was killing himself? Pete's problem is practically everyone around him is an aspiring Tony Wilson. The skinny boys with their ripped jeans and designer pipes, the ghostly girls with stripey shirts and trust fund bangs, the greedy journalists, the clueless industry types...

Let Pete die.
Let him become a "Rock n' Roll Legend".
Let us get around to ideal[sanit]izing his memory.
Then let's sell the whole fucking thing on Ebay.

Fuck You.

The album's brilliant by the way. Best thing they've ever done. Pisses on everything released this year, last year, next year...

The Libertines are dead. Long live The Libertines.