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The Libertines review – raucous return for chaotic indie heroes
Previewing their first new album for nine years to a tiny but thrilled audience, Pete Doherty and Carl Barât’s band continue to stumble around greatness
‘Good evening, Stockton-on-Tees!” yells Peter Doherty, as streams of lager and items of clothing fly over the tiny but wonderfully raucous crowd. Tickets sold out in minutes, and people hurl their drinks, bellow along, climb on each other’s shoulders and chant the name of drumming powerhouse Gary Powell. The glorious Night of the Hunter – which begins “love and hate, tattooed on the knuckles round the handles of a blade” and incorporates a melody from Swan Lake – suggests that as middle-aged men they’re still able to channel an almost Dickensian parallel universe of lowlife, crime and violence into something poetic and romantic.
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