Photo: Luke Hannaford
In a year full of unlikely achievements for The Libertines, from recording a new album to staying together long enough to tour it, tonight’s show at the 02 has an air of the surreal about it.
For a band cut from the cloth of intimate back room ferocity and Camden infamy, the sea of bodies filling this vast arena is striking. This isn’t a festival setting, hazed by drink, drugs and free-spirits – it is an echoing chamber – cold and daunting, built for expectant entertainment rather than heart-felt chaos. And, yet, again, against all-odds, The Libertines put on a show that heats up to a wildfire.
It is only today, as a much tighter outfit back to perform not destruct, that this is possible. Pete Doherty, for so long unstable, is on eerily fine form: lean and sharply focused with a determined confidence that spreads throughout the band.
‘Barbarians’ opens the show, a rallying call from Carl Barat to “have it up with a mental crowd”. Taken from the comeback album ‘Anthems for Doomed Youth’, its brooding tones and anthemic simplicity screams stadium ready. But these fans, whatever the setting, always react best to spontaneity. Strumming in between tracks, Doherty teases ‘Heart of the Matter’, only to be forcibly pulled in by the crowd, who continue it in eager voice. Transitioning nicely on-stage into a chorus of typically angular guitars, heartily melodic blows are traded with Barat, vocals standing up well.
Clearest of all tonight is the simplicity behind what makes the group tick. They work best as a band of brothers, devoid of unnecessary showmanship and spectacle. Their legacy has been built on the personal chemistry they share together and with fans, the type that industry money men can’t buy but cheaply try to cash in on. The crowd knows this too, and respond dismissively when, half-way through the warmly received 'Boys In The Band', girls wearing replica red military jackets once worn by the foursome, appear on stage to perform a sleazy burlesque act. This is not wanted by anyone, least of all Doherty, who tells the crowd, "It's not our fault, they're only supposed to bring us drinks."
The rest of the show steers clear of this forced sentimentality, leaving the gig to create its own moments. ‘You’re My Waterloo’ sees Barat somewhat unexpectedly take to the piano for the ballad as Doherty sings, only to return to his guitar and add extra weight. But this isn’t the only surprise, Babyshambles jewel ‘Albion’, released by Doherty when in Libertines exile, gets intertwined with Libertines classic ‘Music When The Lights Go Out’ – first sung alone and then shared with Barat as the ultimate gesture of reconciliation.
The final hour of the show is a full assault on the senses, with ageless rock rebellion given free reign, be it 2015’s ‘Gunga Din’, or 2002’s ‘Vertigo’. ‘Can’t Stand Me Now’ gets the biggest mass sing-along, but as Gary Powell’s booming drumbeat introduces defiant finale ‘Don’t Look Back Into the Sun’, roaring with energy, the band feel closer than ever.
As the band soak up the reception, dwarfed by the stage, they appear genuinely humbled. “This is too much for my little brain” says Doherty. What became of the likely lads and the dreams they had? More than they could ever have imagined.
