The first time The Libertines played California - making what was in fact their extremely hyped U.S. debut at the 2003 Coachella Festival - the gig was, in typical Libertines fashion, a disaster. First, they hit the stage nearly two hours behind schedule due to earlier band's Ladytron's technical difficulties, and then, less than a minute into their second song, the area's live-music curfew went into effect and authorities abruptly cut off all electricity. The Libs' amps sputtered out, the venue was plunged into inky darkness, and Pete Doherty promptly pitched a proper rock star tantrum, hurling his suddenly non-operational microphone to the floor with an angry thud and storming off the darkened stage while spewing mush-mouthed obscenities.
Sure, this was a major anti-climax for American fans who'd been waiting all day to catch a glimpse of the notorious gang of rabble rousing redcoats from across the pond. But truth be told, it was a fitting Stateside introduction for a group whose short but staggering career has always been a comedy/tragedy of errors.
Now, barely more than a year later, The Libertines have returned to sunny California for a sold-out show at L.A.'s legendary Troubadour club - albeit without on/off band member Doherty, who once again is out of the band. And perhaps it's no coincidence that without Pete in tow, everything goes off without a hitch. This time, The Libs materialize on the dot at their advertised 10.15pm set time and without delay rattle off one cocky Cockney tune after another in a brisk, workmanlike manner, cramming an unstoppable set into a positively manic 30 minutes.
Absolutely nothing goes wrong, and of course, it's all fantastic, even if the songs do miss Pete's cigarettes-and-alcohol, call-and-response harmonies. Crucially, there's something else missing here: the intangible element of danger that Pete brings to the Libs' proceedings, that pit-of-stomach sensation that everything could unravel at any given moment. Tonight's performance is almost like an episode of The Jerry Springer Show minus all the chair-throwing and cross-dressing and bitch-slapping. And where's the fun in that?
However, most of the Troubadour's sardine-packed audience (which features such local hipsters as porno-pop crooner Har Mar Superstar, Jeppe "Senior" Laursen of Junior Senior and Marc Bolan's dreadlocked son, Rolan Bolan) could care less. The instant that lone frontman Carl Barat ambles onstage in full James Dean mode - battered leather jacket, ubiquitous dangling cigarette, half-mast eyelids, matinee-idol good looks - everyone in attendance simultaneously erupts into Beatles-on-Ed Sullivan-esque banshee wails, the sheer volume of which is rarely heard in this jaded music-biz town.
Spectators bellow along boisterously to every word. They battle like desperate bridesmaids at a bouquet toss for possession of the errant drumsticks and sweat-dampened towels the band fling from the stage. They flip the bird right on cue (as Carl slurs, "Fuck 'em!") during "I Get Along". They even keenly applaud the ringing feedback between songs. By the time Har Mar Superstar bounds onstage in all his moustachioed glory for "Time For Heroes", at which point he jiggles his famously flabby buttocks and rubs up against bassist John Hassall like a mutt in season, agitated crowd-surfers have transformed the first few rows of the audience into one churning ball of upturned Converse trainers and flailing limbs.
And all the while, no one seems to miss the other boy in the band. In fact, Carl's single utterance of between-song banter this evening, a dedication of the now rhetorical "What Became Of The Likely Lads" to his estranged bandmate ("This song is for a friend of mine who is not here, but I wish he could be..."), actually receives noticeably fewer hoots and hollers than does drummer Gary Powell's cowbell solo in "Vertigo". Apparently, these concertgoers aren't all that concerned with what became of the likely lads. They simply don't know what they're missing, having never had the opportunity to witness the spectacle that is a Doherty-fronted Libertines gig. And sadly, they probably never will get that chance, given the seemingly irreparable damage to Carl and Pete's partnership as of late.
But tonight's performance proves that as long as Carl wants to keep The Libertines going, they'll always have an audience in Radio America.
