3Olympia, Dublin
Pete Doherty may have little resemblance to the cadaverous figure who fronted The Libertines in the the early 2000s. He has — let’s be diplomatic here — filled out, and he sports the sort of garb that wouldn’t be out of place on a funeral director. The grey fedora offers a rakish touch.
But, in many ways, it’s extraordinary that the Northumberland native is on stage at all. For much of his life in the spotlight, Doherty was so addled by drugs that many assumed he would meet the same sorry end as his old lover, Amy Winehouse. He has certainly been though the wars and recently announced that he is trying to manage type 2 diabetes.
The Libertines generated acres of press 20-odd years ago, but most of it was disconnected to the music. There was huge interest in Doherty’s wild behaviour which culminated with him spending time in jail for burgling the home of his bandmate and platonic soulmate Carl Barât. Say what you will about the Gallagher brothers’ rivalry, but neither of them has done time for offences against the other.
It’s remarkable, then, that not only are Doherty and Barât reunited once more, but they seem to be having a fine old time of it in the fabled Dublin venue. Some in this crowd may have been at the ill-fated gig of Doherty’s other band, Babyshambles, in the Temple Bar Music Centre in 2006: it never went ahead as the frontman was completely wasted.
For 90 minutes, the pair — accompanied by bassist John Hassell and drummer Gary Powell, and with occasional guitar contributions from tour manager Andrew Newlove — just about hold it together. Much like their recorded music, the gig is a ramshackle affair, but there’s plenty of charm, too.
Pete Doherty and Carl Barât of The Libertines. Photo: Getty
Although they have a new album, All Quiet on the Eastern Esplanade, to promote, the band are at their best when they focus on their first pair of albums, Up the Bracket and The Libertines. They play no fewer than eight songs from that debut with the Beatlesque Boys in the Band and the scuzzy title track going down especially well with the male-dominated audience.
Say what you will about the Gallagher brothers’ rivalry, but neither of them has done time for offences against the other
Can’t Stand Me Now is as frenetic and chaotic as one might hope for and there’s a lovely touch at the end when Doherty plays harmonica. It’s one of several songs that chart Doherty and Barât’s friendship and there’s a lovely reminder of what the two have been through when they share a microphone, sweetly, during What Katie Did.
In truth, there’s an awful lot that struggles to connect and the crowd’s apathy is palpable. Sometimes the rough and ready nature just doesn’t work, as with all that unintentional feedback from the speakers during Songs They Never Play on the Radio.
But there’s no such trouble when they bring out Cavan folk singer Lisa O’Neill for Night of the Hunter, the best song on the new album, and even those who have doggedly resisted any affection for The Libertines are likely to be mollified during a tender rendition of Music When the Lights Go Out.
During the encore, Doherty sports a vintage tracksuit top of his beloved Queens Park Rangers — he makes a point of showing off sponsor Guinness — and seems genuinely moved to be keeping it together in front of a paying audience. Barât, who still looks like the consummate rockstar, does much of the heavy lifting.
A mixed gig, then, and one that is likely to sate some and disappoint others. But it makes a pleasant change from last-minute no-shows.
