Up until Pete Doherty suddenly smashes up his guitar and runs off the stage, a half naked figure darting into the nearest doorway with a bouncer in hot pursuit, it's all a bit flat.
Not the crowd, of course psyched up by the boozy bonhomie of support band Chas And Dave and near ecstatic to be in the presence of a modern day legend, the fans dance and howl along with Cup Final fervour. Not The Libertines en masse either for a group with such a shambolic reputation, they're remarkably tight, blitzkrieging through the songs with smash and grab precision. But Doherty himself seems detached somehow - he hardly speaks to the crowd, his gaze between songs is unfocussed, his entire demeanour detached.
The cracks appear during new song "Can't Stand Me". Doherty's repeating the title again and again (pertinent lyrics: "I still love you/you can't stand me now/have we enough to keep it together/or do we just go on pretending?"), when a switch flicks in his head and he just snaps. He smashes his guitar, then peels off his top, more in confusion than anything else, and then seemingly embarrassed by what he's done, dashes off the stage. The band have played for a mere thirty-five minutes.
Those thirty-five minutes have been strangely unconvincing. I've had a mixed relationship with the band an early sceptic who nevertheless was charmed by the glorious "Don't Look Back Into The Sun" and intrigued by the whole, sorry, messy story. I came along tonight fully expecting to be won over, to emerge wondering why I ever doubted them in the first place. But it doesn't happen. Everything you imagine from a group in this position - joy, triumph, friendship, camaraderie, an endearing sloppiness - is missing. From Doherty at least. And shorn of these vital elements, all you're left with are the songs.
Which is a problem, because a few notable exceptions aside - the songs are depressingly one dimensional, hyperactive one chord thrashes with little room for the personality of the band (surely the thing that's packed the Academy three times over). When they slow down a little ("Don't Look Back Into The Sun", the excellent "Boys In The Band", even "What A Waster" to a certain extent), there's a reason to believe, a hint of this enticing otherworld that they've sold to us. But the excitement from these bursts of Libertineness soon ebbs when another nondescript pub punk nonentity presents itself. Especially when tied to a clearly absent lead singer.
Ironically, when Doherty is physically absent rather than mentally (spiritually?) absent, The Libertines are hugely improved. Obviously they're riding on the wave of elation coming from a crowd who've just seen the soap opera first hand, but even so. Carl Barat is a much stronger singer than Doherty ever will be, the group better for being stripped down to a three piece, allowed more space to be themselves (again, ironically). And when Doherty does return at the end of "Good Old Days", it all suddenly turns very horrible indeed.
He looks awful. He's deathly pale and his chest has specks of fresh blood on it. He stumbles over to Barat to (you imagine) apologise, does the same with drummer Gary Powell, and then mumbles to the crowd "sorry about that, I had a bit of a strop" and it's like watching an alcoholic blearily coming to terms with the fact he's just thrown up on himself again. He doesn't really seem to know where he is, even though he plays the songs without a fluffed note or mistimed chord change, and it's just too ghoulish for comfort. We shouldn't be watching this for entertainment. I shouldn't be writing this in the name of criticism. The poor bloke is genuinely sick and needs help.
I bear no ill will towards The Libertines. I like the idea of them, I love the few songs I think they've got right. I fully believe that their second album has the potential to be a real classic. But I don't think they should be doing this. They should stop playing tiny surprise gigs, stop playing huge tours for the attention, step away from the very thing that's destroying their fragile singer. We don't need another Richey Edwards. But it seems some people won't be satisfied until we get one.
