The only let-up comes during the chorus section’s sublime six-note motif. Built around a swerving chord sequence, Barât’s jibing A♯ riff keeps pace with the arrangement, as he and Doherty exchange lead vocals. Though the barbed wire riffage of Vertigo is an effective starting point, it’s on the album’s second track, Death on the Stairs, that the clearest indication of The Libertines’ musical and emotional breadth can be found.
Meanwhile, Doherty, then rarely seen without his Epiphone Coronet, demonstrated a remarkable aptitude for songcraft that underpins every minute of Up the Bracket. Just listen to the white-knuckle closer I Get Along. Typically toting a Gibson Melody Maker (or SG), Barât’s penchant for seemingly spontaneous but actually well-mapped solos and riffs resulted in some of the record’s fiercest guitar work. Purposefully lo-fi, Barât and Doherty’s wilfully imprecise approach to guitar masked their true ability. Barât and Doherty also conjured visions of a long-lost, half-dreamed, mythical Albion, particularly on their penultimate manifesto The Good Old Days. Their songs were set amid vomit-soaked pubs and featured street-stalking debt collectors, hotel room hook-ups, and ride-or-die debauchery.
Throughout the album’s 12 tracks, the Libs’ leading lyricists painted a warring picture of twin dimensions of Britain. Recorded mainly live, Barât and Doherty’s fuzz-soaked, galloping guitars ran roughshod over Hassall and Powell’s solid rhythm section. This was the Libertines’ response: with The Clash’s co-architect Mick Jones helming their debut (and Suede’s Bernard Butler producing the band’s non-album singles), Doherty, Barât and co were positioning themselves as the successors to the UK’s hallowed indie lineage.Ĭlocking in at just over half an hour, Up the Bracket hit like a hurricane. Up the Bracket landed a year after The Strokes’ debut Is This It, which cemented the New York act as the most effortlessly cool on the scene. Marrying the blunt fury of The Clash with the poeticism of The Smiths, and the nicotine-stained thrill of early Suede with the pissed-at-the-piano rockney knees-ups of Chas & Dave, The Libertines were radically out of step with 2002’s musical landscape. With their romantic veneration of Britain’s rock and literary canon, Pete Doherty, Carl Barât, John Hassall and Gary Powell were primed to become the country’s next obsession. They were fresh, determined and spoke to an unbridled hedonism that helped them earn the loyalty of their tribe. The Libertines were nipping at the heels of Britpop’s heaviest hitters, ready to seize the torch from Oasis. “ Back in 2002, though, the Camden kings’ Anglo-leaning ethos set them apart from a set then spearheaded by The Strokes, one of most exciting new bands on the planet. In fact, there are podcast episodes coming on Friday that takes us inside the album: Still going today, I love the fact the band have survived turmoil and fall-out to stand strong and celebrate the twentieth anniversary strong. Before, celebrated and investigated The Libertines’ confident and compelling debut back in July. I am going to come to a couple of reviews for Up the Bracket. Such an impressive and strong album from the London band, you can tell that so many bands that followed were moved by Up the Bracket. So fresh and thrilling, the band, led by songwriters Carl Barât and Pete Doherty, put out a potent statement with their debut. You can get the twentieth anniversary edition and enjoy a mighty album. It was widely praised by critics upon its release, and Up the Bracket is considered one of the greatest albums of the 2000s. The album was part of a resurgence for the British Indie/Alternative scene. The album reached thirty-five in the U.K.
As it is twenty on Friday, I wanted to spend some time with it. That still sound fresh today, The Libertines’ amazing debut, Up the Bracket, was released on 14th October, 2002. IN THIS PHOTO: The Libertines (from left to right: Pete Doherty, Carl Barât, Gary Powell and John Hassall)/ PHOTO CREDIT: Eva Edsjö/Redferns