“It’s been absolutely, just – I can’t think of a word that isn’t really cliché – magnificent, triumphant. To realize what we’d spent so many years from those dingy days in the basement, at each other’s throats, living amongst mold and just foulness. But literally just a dream, a candle, to get us by, and really dedicate our lives to it. And then, after everything we’ve been through – it’s been tumultuous to say the least – to realize that at Hyde Park in front of all those people, and just know that people were listening, it did mean something to people. It’s really quite an emotional thing. And so this tour – we all want the same thing, we’ve realized despite our differences, and despite all the things that have happened, we are who we are, greater than the sum of our parts, and what we were saying then and are saying now is still valid. [And the common ground is the music?] Absolutely, the music and the dream we had in the first place. And the dreams will continue.”—Carl Barât on The Libertines reunion, XFM (09.10.14)
“There are occasional side remarks about prisons and side projects and Top of the Pops with band members missing. These do come out. But we know better than to give them any life. We just kind of glance over them. But of course they’re there. And then if we can make a bit of a joke about them… We’re making jokes about some pretty heavy things here. But you know, if you can do that, then I think we’re alright. We are a bit older, and there’s a bit of water under the bridge. A lot of water under the bridge. So much.”—Carl Barat, on The Libertines reunion (BBC Radio 6)
Grey skies of crystal. A bizarre design of bridges, now straight, now curved, and others descending in oblique angles to meet the former, and these patterns repeating themselves in other well-lit windings of canal, but all so long and weightless that the shores, weighted with domes, sink and contract. Some of these bridges are still covered with hovels. Others bear masts, signals, frail parapets. Minor chords interlace, and fade; ropes rise from the banks. You distinguish a red coat, other clothes perhaps and musical instruments. Are those popular airs, snatches from noble concerts, the remains of public anthems? The water is grey and blue, wide as an arm of the sea.
A white ray, falling from on high, annihilates this comedy.