Но ныне организаторы превзошли себя, пригласив возродившуюся группу The Libertines, главного декадента и смутьяна современного. The Libertines — английская рок-группа. Была основана в 1997 году двумя друзьями Карлом Баратом и Питером Доэрти. Распалась в 2004, к моменту. The Libertines : английская рок-группа. Gunga Din, Fame And Fortune, Barbarians и другие песни. Вся дискография, Радио, Концерты, рекомендации и. Легендарные британцы The Libertines впервые после 11 лет молчания приедут в Москву, чтобы стать хэдлайнером Ahmad Tea Music Festival 2015.
2 дн. назад Для лидера коллектива Карла Барата, известного большинству в качестве действующего фронтмена популярных The Libertines, 2015.
The Libertines: Anthems for Doomed Youth – a reputation restored. T he third Libertines album arrives 12 years after its predecessor. Like many resolutely British products, including Royal Doulton china and Dr Martens boots, its production was actually outsourced to Thailand: on one track, you can hear the sound of the waves breaking on the beach at Bang Saray. Moreover, it was recorded with Jake Gosling. whose charge sheet includes producing One Direction’s What Makes You Beautiful, co-writing Ed Sheeran’s multi-platinum album + and, indeed, working on the second album by that legendary purveyor of ramshackle art-punk with lyrics fixated on a mythic vision of England, Chris Moyles. It goes without saying that this is an unexpected turn of events. Even leaving the presence of the One Direction guy out of the equation, the most optimistic Libertines fan might have thought the chances of a new album unlikely, despite the band reuniting (again) to play London’s Hyde Park and Alexandra Palace last year.
Pete Doherty blithely announced he was doing the gigs “for the money” – it was always possible that he was finally drug-free and needed said money in order to realise his longstanding dream of opening a donkey sanctuary, but it didn’t seem terribly probable. More likely, the Libertines’ story was going to end long before they made any new music, Doherty having finally succeeded in his impressively persistent bid to kill himself with heroin. In fairness, no one seems more surprised at the way things have turned out than the Libertines themselves. An entire song on Anthems for Doomed Youth, Heart of the Matter, is devoted to the improbability of their current situation.
“With all the battering it’s taken, I’m surprised it’s still ticking,” runs the chorus; whether the “it” is the Libertines or Doherty’s cardiovascular system is unclear, but given the song’s excoriating portrayal of the singer in his junkie years – apparently now ended – it’s probably the latter. “You’re the No 1 at being hard done by … what’s the matter today?” he sings, neatly skewering at least one problem with the records he made while mired in smack: the whiny self-pity that scuppered songs like Sheepskin Tearaway and Sweet By and By. their lyrics always keen to suggest that it was everyone else’s fault that he got kicked out of the Libertines or Kate Moss chucked him. The words of Heart of the Matter point to one reason why Anthems for Doomed Youth is a better album than anyone might reasonably expect. From the bold self-aggrandising of Time for Heroes and The Good Old Days to the public airing of dirty laundry on Can’t Stand Me Now.
Doherty and co-writer Carl Barât have always found themselves the most fascinating subject of all. That remains true here, but the way the pair look at themselves seems to have changed. Their inward gaze is more clear-eyed and unsparing than before: the songs seem, for want of a better word, more mature. As on 2004’s The Libertines. the lyrics pick at the band’s descent into chaos, but that album’s cocktail of uncomprehending despair and blame-shifting is noticeably absent, replaced by the sharp observations and flinty wit found amid Belly of the Beast and Gunga Din’s unsparing self-portraits (the latter ends with Doherty screaming a memo to self: “What are you doing, you stupid fucking idiot? Wake up!”) and the title track. “You thought that they were brothers, then they half-murdered each other,” it offers, before turning its wry attentions to Barât and Doherty’s subsequent solo careers: “Then he did a karaoke turn and murdered our best song.
Only on Fame and Fortune do they fall prey to rosy-hued hubris. A bit of Mockney-accented, early-days myth-building cut from a similar cloth to Them’s The Story of Them or Mott the Hoople’s Saturday Gigs. it’s got one great, witty line from Barât about the collision between bohemian idealism and commerce – “so dip your quill into your bleeding heart and sign here, and here, and here” – amid a lot of really clunky stuff that smacks of trying too hard: “Like tin soldiers responding to the call, to Camden we will crawl. ” Elsewhere, they save the idealisation for others, not least Doherty’s late sometime collaborator Alan Wass. Replete with shivering guitars, pianos, the sound of film projectors whirring and cinematic references, the closing Dead for Love offers a very quixotic account indeed of the latest demise in Doherty’s circle. It’s a great bit of songwriting sleight of hand: there was nothing romantic whatsoever about Wass’ death in April – he was a chronic alcoholic killed by a £15 heroin deal – but the loveliness of the melody and the potency of Doherty’s delivery could make you believe there was, at least for the song’s duration.
It’s at its least engaging when trying to summon up the kind of gorblimey ramalama that powered their debut album: Glasgow Coma Scale Blues and Fury of Chonburi hurtle in one ear and out of the other without leaving much impression, as if they were so knackered by the effort of trying to sound like their younger selves that they forgot to actually write a song. Mostly, however, Anthems for Doomed Youth sounds elegiac and autumnal: the one song that dates from the Libertines’ earlier incarnation, a heartbroken piano ballad called You’re My Waterloo, fits perfectly. However unlikely the pairing of the Libertines with Jake Gosling seems, it works. What their sound has lost in rough edges, it’s gained in subtle, sympathetic touches – the shadings of tremolo guitar on the title track, strings on You’re My Waterloo – and in a tightening-up of the songwriting.
Gunga Din’s stab at reggae isn’t hugely convincing, but the shift from echo-laden verse to sighing chorus is really good, as is the way The Milkman’s Horse suddenly pulls its opaque melody into focus. Few bands have damaged their own reputation in quite the way the Libertines managed. The excruciating tabloid horror show seemed to go on far longer than their career, dwarfing it to the point where it was difficult to remember why people had thought they were any good in the first place. Anthems for Doomed Youth isn’t perfect, but it succeeds in redressing the balance, reminding you that before Doherty became an embarrassing red-top fixture, he and Barât were genuinely great songwriters with a uniquely skewed vision. It might represent a new start or a full stop: either way, it’s a huge improvement on the way the Libertines’ story seemed fated to end.