The Libertines: "Over time we built up this collage of mad headlines to do with the refugee crisis – a mind-warping tabloid feast of anti-immigrant sentiment"

If The Libertines getting back together is a cynical money-making exercise no one’s bothered telling Carl Barât and Pete Doherty who are happily swigging their way through a bottle of brandy, making each other laugh uproariously and generally behaving like the best buds they’ve been on and occasionally off since the turn of the century.

Which isn’t to say that imminent new album All Quiet On The Eastern Esplanade won’t make them a ton of dosh, comprising as it does of ten songs that are a match for anything on Up The Bracket and, truth be told, probably better because they weren’t completely off their bins making it.

Despite ongoing concerns about his health – “Death is lurking… I’m a very sick man”, he told Louis Theroux recently – the past few years have seen Mr. D kick his heroin habit, living la belle vie in Normandy with his wife Katia de Vidas, releasing a couple of cracking solo LPs and last year celebrating the arrival of his second child, Billie-May Doherty.

Carl, meanwhile, has been hands-on with the running of the band’s Albion Rooms hotel and venue in Margate, as well as deejaying and working on a TV drama project with Zoe Rocha and his sister Lucie Barât, more of which anon.

So, there’s been precious little twiddling of thumbs since the release of the last Libertines album, Anthems For Doomed Youth, in 2015.

While loathe to interrupt their Morecambe & Wise routine, there’s an interview to be done and I start by asking the chaps who normally sends the Bat Signal out for The Libertines to get back together again?

“To be honest, it’s him, Carl, The Jiggler,” Pete says. “I’m always up for it, though.”

“Yeah, it’s probably me,” his bandmate agrees.

Work on All Quiet On The Eastern Esplanade – it’s a nod to both Erich Maria Remarque’s landmark anti-war novel and the Albion Rooms’ seafront location – started in earnest when Pete and Carl decamped to Jamaica and managed to avoid doing a Happy Mondays.

“They blew a quarter of a million pounds of record company money on crack cocaine, didn’t they?” Pete resumes.

“We weren’t entrusted with that sort of money but we managed to blow everything we were entrusted with,” Carl says proudly.

“It could have easily just descended into paddle-boarding, cocaine and rum but, no, we knuckled down and got some serious work done,” Pete adds. “Actually, there was some paddle-boarding and quite a bit of rum so we did Shaun Ryder moderately proud.”

Jamaica has a reputation for being beautiful but also dangerous if you wander into the wrong neighbourhoods. How did the guys find it?

“It’s a bit like Margate, really,” Pete reflects. “You either have a bit of bad luck or you don’t. You can have your skull cracked open with a hammer walking through the beautiful streets of Paris by the Eiffel Tower. The world’s the world’s the world.”

I suspect the Jamaican Tourist Board will be happier with that answer than the Parisienne one.

“The reason we went to Jamaica and made this record is a song called ‘Mustang’, which started with Carl strumming these chords backstage at a Libertines gig,” Pete says, reaching for his own trusty acoustic. “It was the bit that goes (starts singing and playing) ‘And ‘ere’s the Pigman in a low rider/ Smoking rollies in the sunset/ Unholy from the road/ He guzzles up the rider/ He’s like Pacman when he goes.’

“When Carl played it, I said, ‘What’s that?’ and he went, ‘Oh, nothing, it’s just an idea I’ve got.’ I was like, ‘I can’t let this slip away and end up a solo song.’ There are a few he’s done with Dirty Pretty Things like ‘Hippy’s Son’ and ‘Glory Days’ that would have been great as Libertines songs. That was the spark, really. Once I got my claws into ‘Mustang’ we cracked on and the results of our labours were fruitful.”

The Libertines’ fortunes have always been dependent on how well Carl and Pete are getting on.  How has their friendship evolved and what do they do to protect it?

“I know this is going to turn into another emotional therapy session but in the early days I feel like Carl was distracted and cultivating himself,” Pete responds, picking his words carefully. “I used to have to chase him a bit with this idea of being in a band and making a go of it. Once we started getting somewhere with The Libertines and making a few quid – not that that was important – and sharing the dream and the vision, it became easier to actually get stuff done.

“Maybe it was the organisation, you didn’t like the ad hoc nature of gigs in silly places,” he adds looking at his bandmate. “The other thing about the early days is that the stage was calling you. It said (affects deep booming voice) ‘Carrrrrrlllll!’ An actor’s what you’d wanted to be. I feel that we’re now both more focused on the band.”

“Yeah, he spent a couple of years getting me more focused and on the same page,” Carl agrees. “And here we are. A bit of distance helps – he lives in France now and I live in Margate.”

“It’s only ‘that’ on a map but it’s a hell of a slog when you’re driving through snow,” Pete says of his recent Normandy-Kent commute.

Daily Mail readers are going to have a collective coronary when they hear ‘Merry Old England’, which contains such choice couplets as: “You Syrians, Iraqis and Ukrainians/ How you finding Merry Old England? / With her chalk cliffs once white, they’re greying in the sodium light/ My my my congrats on staying alive/ Hope they don’t catch you tonight.”

Was there a specific catalyst for the song or is it just an accumulation of having to listen to xenophobic right-wing scaremongering?

“I think the Daily Mail could well have been the catalyst,” Carl ventures. “Over time we built up this collage of mad headlines to do with the refugee crisis – a mind-warping tabloid feast of anti-immigrant sentiment.”

“One of them  was ‘The Illegals Have Landed’, so we whacked that into the song,” his bandmate takes-over. “They’re not going to get a penny, ten percent my eye.

“It’s never going to change,” Pete adds getting serious for a moment. “There are always going to be people who will risk life and limb for a better life.”

Are there small boats trying to cross over from the Normandy coast?

“Normally it’s Pas-de-Calais and the north of France, Normandy is particularly treacherous because the tides and the slipstreams aren’t right,” Pete tells me. “You’ve really got to make the shortest possible dash if you’re going to do it. You’d be going Normandy to Newhaven, which isn’t actually that far but it’s really well patrolled that bit and there are also a hell of a lot of Chinese container ships coming in and out of port. I tried it once just for kicks. We were hanging out with some blokes in Calais (who operate migrant boats) and asked, ‘Can we come along and film you?’ but they got a bit funny about the filming thing and thought we were undercover police or working for the press.”

“Pete tried to do the journey the other way,” Carl divulges. “He bought a little motor-boat in Margate and sailed about twenty feet out before it sank. You paid two grand for that.”

“It was awful embarrassing,” Pete nods. “It was like a coffin-shaped speedboat.”

I didn’t realise Mr. Doherty was a seafarer.

“During the pandemic, I did my French boat pilot’s licence,” he claims. “I passed it and didn’t even have to cheat.”

Before you ask, no, I’m not sure whether these attempted channel crossings actually occurred or if Captain Doherty and first-mate Barât are playing a game of pulling the journalist’s plonker.

One of 2023’s most compelling hours of television was the aforementioned Louis Theroux interview with Pete that pulled zero punches and managed to rope in Carl as well. Were they happy with how it all panned out?

“Yeah, yeah… there could have been a bit less of the drinking in there,” Carl rues.

“Me choking on the bottle of rum might have caused some American visa issues,” Pete elaborates.

“I did point that out before,” Carl sighs.

Along with his beloved Queens Park Rangers and Waterford FC – Pete’s seaman grandad, Ted Doherty, was from The Déise and he’s been known to don a Blues shirt on stage – the 44-year-old also keeps a Saturday afternoon eye on Margate FC’s results.

“Yeah, they’re in the Isthmian League Premier Division, which is the seventh tier of English football,” he explains. “We’ve sponsored their shirts for quite a while. They’re designed by this really amazing artist called Luke McClean.”

Who’s also collaborated with U2, Supergrass, The Horrors and Motörhead. His Margate footie shirts are a thing of beauty and available from the online club shop. One of their recent-ish managers was Everton legend Neville Southall.

“Great ‘tache!” Pete enthuses. “He was the Babyshambles goalkeeper when we played in the Samaritans Soccer Six tournament.”

Tears were shed last November when word reached Margate and Normandy of Shane MacGowan’s death.

“I got to play at Shane’s 60th in the National Concert Hall, which was absolutely fucking mind-blowing” Carl recalls. “It was one of the best nights of my life. I was so honoured to be part of it. It was a bit of an out of body experience.”

Pete recalls collaborating with Shane.

“With the Libs, the ‘shambles and the Puta Madres, Shane would come on and do ‘Dirty Old Town’ which was always really special.”

Asked if they ever got to write with him, Pete shakes his head mournfully.

“No, that’ll be a long-time regret. I’m getting a bit upset… it was one of those things we always seemed to put off. It’s too late now, isn’t it?”

Shane MacGowan's The Eternal Buzz & The Crock of Gold launch at The Park Café in Dublin. Tuesday 8th of November 2022. Copyright Miguel Ruiz.

There’s so much to choose from but do they have a favourite Shane record?

“It’s Rum, Sodomy & The Lash for me,” Carl shoots back.

“Yeah, that’s how I first discovered him,” Pete concurs. “I love the fact he used to be Shane O’Hooligan and in a band called The Nipple Erectors. There’s this amazing footage of him aged about eighteen wearing a Union Jack blazer. So many great memories…”

Although yet to man the decks on this side of the Irish Sea, Carl has DJ-ed at many an indie night in the UK with Fontaines D.C. among his floor-filling go-tos.

“I do love Fontaines D.C., they’re great lads,” he nods. “We had Grian in the hotel last week. There was a little lock-in in the Albion Rooms. Some guitar was played until the wee small hours. I asked him to play ‘Boys In The Better Land’ but he wasn’t having it!”

As for his other extracurricular activities, what can Carl tell us about this TV project with Zoe Rocha, John’s daughter who many moons ago did work experience in Hot Press and is a top woman?

“My sister’s good mates with Zoe and went to her wedding – she just got married. It’s called Heartless, which is something my sister wrote and is semi-autobiographical. But you know what it’s like with this TV stuff. It’s still there and good to go but lockdown really did put a fucking damper on it.”

Did he watch Jimmy Boyle’s Pistol series and are The Libertines up for the same sort of docudrama treatment?

“I was talking to Paul Cook from the Pistols about that the other day – he came down to our club and played. He told me he’d been a consultant on it. If it had been horrendous I wouldn’t have been able to look him in the eye, but I thought it was really good. Chrissie Hynde’s character was amazing in it.

“In terms of dramatising music, there are so many of these biopics that I struggle with. So, yeah, it would have to be done properly.”

“I haven’t seen Pistol yet but thought Sid & Nancy with Gary Oldman worked in its own way and The Great Rock & Roll Swindle of course,” Pete proffers. “There was a fella who’d worked on Seven Psychopaths who we met with and has gone away to try and write some scripts.

“There’s also a South Korean theatre writer who made a musical about The Libertines in Korean called The Likely Lads. You can see it online I think.”

The last time I spoke to Pete he outed Carl as being a Wolfe Tones fan.

“Oh no, don’t get him started, it’s too early,” Pete deadpans. “‘Come out ye Black and Tans…’”

“After a few drinks I’m partial to a couple…” Carl says before being rudely interrupted by Pete who cackles, “He does a big old jig and belts out The Wolfe Tones.”

It turns out that Mr. Doherty isn’t the only Libertine with Irish blood coursing through his veins.

“My fourth great-grandad was John Doherty the famous industrial reformer,” Carl says proudly. “He left Buncrana and went to England where he became the Godfather of Socialism. I’m Irish on my Mum’s side as well.”

“Whichever country we do press in, you can be guaranteed that Carl’s got blood there!” Pete teases.

The Libertines, 2004 (Rough Trade)

Before we go, there’s just time to ask Messrs. – and, indeed, messers – Barât and Doherty what their all-time favourite Libertines moments are.

“No pressure,” Carl groans. “Can I go second?”

No.

“It’s like picking a favourite Beatles song. It depends on how I feel. Give me an emotion, I’ll give you a correlating experience.”

Sheer joy.

“Okay, rapturous joy – walking out to 60,000 people in Hyde Park. I was absolutely bricking it but it was an amazing gig.”

Pete’s turn.

“Playing ‘Horror Show’ at the Rhythm Factory in London years ago. It was absolutely disgraceful, everything was out of tune, there was no railing and punters were spilling onto the stage. Everyone was just chucking themselves around. Carl kept being sucked into the crowd. Our guitar leads came out, pretty much all you could hear was the drums. Carl tried to get to the fire exit to leave and was fuming when he was passed back on to the stage. Our leads eventually got plugged back in and, well, it was just magical.”

All Quiet On The Eastern Esplanade is out April 5. The Libertines play 3Olympia, Dublin (September 23) and Telegraph Building, Belfast (24)