In the early 2000s, the Libertines soaked up comparisons to Oasis and the Strokes, while singer-guitarist Pete Doherty hoovered all the drugs in London. With those days behind them, the Libs have returned for their first LP since 2004, full of sharp garage slop, glam anthems, Waterloo sunburn and loads of references to their collapse (“Woke up again to my evil twin/The mirror is fucking ugly, and I’m tired of looking at him,” co-frontman Carl Barât sings on “Gunga Din”). Whatever personal clarity they’ve attained has done nothing to dilute their music’s heroic wastedness. They still nail the accidentally poignant sound of grasping for heaven while falling from a window.
