The Libertines debut album took English guitar pop up a level. Somewhere between the Kinks and the Clash, Up the Bracket was drunken, careless, sweaty, exuberant, brilliant. Fronted by the competitive and super confident Pete Doherty and Carl Barât they were heading right to the very, very top. Loved by critics and selling plenty of records it was all very, very good for the Libertines.

Carl and Pete were having a ball. Playing the rock star role up royally. Never short of a cheeky soundbite. Doherty and Barât paid for early recordings by working as rent boys. Their first drummer was a 70 year old Jazzman called Mr Razzcocks. Barat was a nephew of Basil Rathbone who used to play Sherlock Holmes. Or so the stories went. But nobody cared and everybody loved the Libertines. And so did I.

But, a cautionary tale was brewing. Soon everything was far from merry in their world. Pete and Carl were constantly duelling for top billing. Then Doherty got himself hooked on crack and decided against showing up for gigs. Barât decided to boot him out. Then he came back, then he was out. Then Doherty got six months jail time for breaking into Barât's house and nicking all his stuff. In July Pete spent a spell at Thamkrabok Monastery in Thailand being starved and getting beaten with bamboo sticks in an attempt to beat the crack. It doesn't seem to have worked. At the moment nobody really knows if the Libertines have much of a future. It doesn't look good from here. Somewhere along the line they managed to stumble into a studio, get some songs down and come out with a new album.

The first thing to say is that most of The Libertines new self titled album - The Libertines - and all the best bits, revolve around the feud between Doherty and Barât. Pete and Carl continue to share vocal duties, and often bite back at forth at each other through the lyrics, sometimes in a playful way, sometimes not. Observational pieces on the world are less likely than brutal introspection and accusation. You get a front row central seat as the band seem to tear themselves apart. Again.

There is a sorta shambolic side to the whole thing. Anybody who thinks that a few years more experience will lead to tighter, more complete second album will be disappointed. It is slightly, just slightly, more restrained but nicieties like song structure don't always come into it. In fact the whole album is a bit all over the place, and anything that smacks of too much effort has been avoided. But that is kindof the point of the Libertines. It's a hazy mess, but in there somewhere is sublime honest genius.

The opening and closing tracks are by far the best on the album, where the giant mash of energy and aggression are harnessed into two future pop classics. The opener and new single 'Can't stand me now' is an absolute gem. 'You shut me up, and blamed it on the brown," snarls Pete in Carl's direction. 'I know you lie, but I'm still in love with you.' Then the thumping chorus when they scream at each other 'Can't stand me now, You can't stand me now'. It's disharmony, and its's raucous, but as the guitars grind and the harmonica kicks in you know it is a fucking great beautiful song.

There then come a mixed bunch of very good and only good tracks. The cracks and splinters in the band are rehashed again and again. There is plenty to jump up and down and get excited about, but nothing reaches the dizzy heights of track one. Not that they are bad, in fact there are plenty of belting tracks, but the flashing glimpses of absolute shining briliance leave you thinking of what might have been.

The band seem to have noticed this themselves. The lovable rogues of Up the Bracket are a little more world weary. "I'm so sick of it all" says Pete on The Penny Drops. It seems very much like this is their farewell to the Libertines. "I'm so tired of hanging around," goes The Ha Ha Wall. But there is also the benny hill like craziness of Narcissist.

The Man Who Would be King seems to be Pete telling Carl that he is king of the Libertines and Carl can take it or leave it. "I live my dreams today, and I'll be living yours tomorrow," he smiles. Music When the Lights Go Out is a sad and more thoughtful almost ballad that tears at your heart. 'Won't you please forgive me', sings Pete. 'I no longer hear the music.' The end is near.

And then we are up and about again with the final anthemic What Became of the Likely Lads. It comes across as a poignant farewell. "I'll forgive you in a song...but if it's left to you, I know exactly what you'd do with all the dreams we had" accuses Carl. They banter/bicker back and forth and eventually seem to reconcile singing out the final chorus together. It's another brutally honest and great song, and you sing along and think, ah crap this is probably the last Libertines song ever.

But, on a lighter note, and maybe for those with less of an emotional attachment to the likely lads, this is an excellent album. Doherty and Barât , despite, or maybe because of their uber complicated friendship, have produced another rattling, boisterous classic, bristling with talent and excellent tunes. Two from two isn't bad. Maybe it's best to get out when the corpse is still this good looking.

first published on oxygen.ie