The Libertines have been around since the Romans. Peter Doherty (guitarist/vocalist) was born on Hadrian's Wall, but Carlos Barat (guitarist/vocalist) wasn't. After a couple of confusing millennia, they ended up in London - and that's where our story really begins.
The Libertines, for those who don't know yet, make music, art, poetry, love, war and airfix models. Primarily, though, they're known for their music - which is brilliant. They're a beautiful and wildly compressed version of all the great British groups of all time (ie The Clash, The Jam, The Smiths, The Yardbirds, The Kinks, The Small Faces Chaz & Dave and The Velvet Underground).
Just recently, they completed their debut album 'Up The Bracket' (recorded at RAK studios with Mick Jones, formerly of The Clash). As debut albums go, it's total genius AND one of the greatest ever made. And that's underselling it. It's the ringing crash of breaking hearts and tender arguments. It's short, sharp and flecked with blood. And, in global terms, everyone will own a copy by the year 2026.
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To get into the position where they could make something as insane and unique as this required myth, skill and dedication. The turning point was 1996. That was when Peter and Carlos made a pact "in the East End". They decided they wanted to sail "the good ship Albion to Arcadia". In a time of choppy water, this was a noble ambition but one they had a duty to fulfil.
Having commandeered a vessel, they immediately set sail for Arcadia (aka "the realm of the infinite" or, if you prefer, the place "where cigarettes grow on trees and all the benches are made of denim"). The first port in the storm was a brothel on the Holloway Road. They didn't stay for long, because the girl living there tried to stab Pete to death in a cinema and emptied a tin of cat food on Carl's head.
Things were better in Stoke Newington. There, they lived in a squat with close personal friend Delvin The Wizard. He, among many other things, introduced them to Sandra The Wood Nymph, a French dancer who had a routine involving a plastic egg. As routines involving plastic eggs go, this was a pretty good one.
While all these storms raged around them, Peter and Carl didn't take their eye off the ball for a minute. They played acoustic gigs at Filthy McNasty's Whisky Cafe, a bohemian hang-out in the King's Cross area. They wrote thousands of songs designed "to save the world and get the girl and cut the ribbon". And they employed a 70 year old drummer called Mr Razzcocks who used to be in The Sex Pistols (that's what he told them anyway).
Shortly after this, there was a wilderness period. We're not going to talk about that, though. Instead, we're going to speed up the tape..
It's now the year 2002. Pete and Carl have finally washed up on the shore with a couple of like-minded souls (drummer Gary Powell and bassist John Hassall). After 2000 years of idle pursuits, they're ready for action. They have a manager (Banny) and a record deal (with Rough Trade). They enter a studio in North London to make a single with the help of Bernard Butler, formerly of The London Suede. The result is the double A-sided 'What A Waster/'I Get Along'. It's totally wired, off its face, magic. In June, it becomes the band's first Top 40 hit. Arcadia is hoving into view. From here, you know the rest...
Enter Mick Jones. Enter the dragon. Enter the best album ever.
The end (for now).
PS, For more information, talk to friends, family and Tony Linkin
PPS, Carlos Barat claimed recently that he was "up for anything".
PPPS, Who reads biogs anyway?
