DrunkenProphet 
Sailed away on the Albion
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Nachricht senden |  Erstellt am 10.05.2008 - 17:39 |      |
NME Yearbook:
Text - Anthony Thornton
MARCH 2004 - The Libertines agree to re-enter the studio for a second shot at recording the follow up to 2002's 'Up the Bracket' album.
Geoff Travis: I was massively excited that they were going into the studio at all. I was also quite concerned about how Pete and Carl would get on, and whether they'd really got the material worked out to a level to be in a state to make a proper record. It was a shot in the dark, in a way.
John Hassall: I think I realised that it wasn't going to be easy to record the album, but I suppose I was optimistic that we would be able to get something good.
Bill Price: I think the band rehearsed a little bit. Not a lot, I'm sure, but a bit (laughs). I think they did book a rehearsal space for a week but by the last day there was only Gary and John rehearsing.
Mick Jones: There were my usual feeling of trepidation and excitement going into the studio. It's the same with other bands but it's heightened and finely tuned by the fact that it's The Libertines.
James Endeacott: It was obviously going to be a great record but there was the matter of how cohesive it was going to be and how long. Was it just going to be a four track mini-album like (prog rockers Yes') 'Tales From The Topographic Oceans'? Who knew?
MARCH 22: The band arrive at London's Metropolis Studios for the first day of recording. Security guards are laid on for Pete and Carl.
Pete Doherty: Mick Jones came over, we all embraced and he cocked an eyelid and said, (adopts accent) 'Boys. Pete, Carl - this is great.' And we looked at each other and smiled quite warmly because Mick Jones says the word 'great' quite a lot. Carl says, 'Yeah, its great'. And Mick went 'great' and then raised his arms in the air, gestured around the room and said 'You know when you walk in? The size of the place...' It's Metropolis Studios, a massive place. 'You know, it inspires a feeling of...' And Carl said, 'Greatness?' And Mick went 'Exactly!'
Gary Powell: We went into the studio not actually knowing what we were going to record. So we set everything up and then Mick turned to us and said, 'Right, what are you gonna play first?' and we were like 'Oh, I don't know...' (laughs). We hadn't prepared for it at all!
Carl Barat: 'Can't Stand Me Now' was the first song we recorded. It went swimmingly. We used the third take. You can hear the end of the take at the start of it - we left it in as it was appropriate - 'An ending fitting for the start' and all that...
Despite the presence of minders, the first day still ends in violent confrontation...
Alan McGee: I had gone home. Pete and Carl were getting on great; we had the security there, it was going well...
Geoff Travis: (Laughs) Then all hell broke out!
Mick Jones: I think the lyrics got too much for them. It culminated on 'Music When The Lights Go Out', but we'd done a couple of emotional ones already. Everyone was pretty vibed. It kicked off a bit.
Pete Doherty: Me and Carl were arguing about a digital recorder. Someone said, 'What's going on?' and Carl said 'Nothing he just can't handle the brown.' I went absolutely mental. I jumped across tha glass table and started leathering him. And I would have fucking killed him an' all but the guards dragged me off him. It was like Baloo the bear and Mowgli. He had me by the back of the shirt and I was flapping about. Cart was a bit suprised because traditionally hes been harder than me but since coming out of prison I had a lot of bottled up aggression.
Carl Barat: Pete had the security guard with his arms around his waist. I just sat there and said 'Come on then!'
Pete Doherty: Mick Jones took me to one side and said 'You're like me and Joe (Strummer), you're brothers. You can't fight against each other, you've got to stick together'.
Mick Jones: I think I told them the story of one Christmas...
Pete Doherty: ...about a bear watching telly on Christmas day and hearing a knock on the door. Outside on the snowy path he sees a little snail freezing. He just picks it up and throws it as far as he can into the woods...
Mick Jones: ...then next Christmas the bear was sitting there and there was a knock on the door. He answers it and the snail says, 'What was that about?' (Laughs). And I was like, 'What was that all about?' They were cool after that.
Pete Doherty: (Laughing) That's what he told me in my hour of darkness. So I went back down and got on with it, really.
John Hassall: At that moment I was seriously questioning whether the album would ever be finished. Some producers wouldn't have tolerated that behaviour and the recording session would have been aborted.
Geoff Travis: You can't make assumptions with them, that it's going to go on a normal course. You would be foolish if you did.
MARCH 29 - APRIL 9 - The Libertines knuckle down and start recording in earnest, albeit with a little coercion.
Bill Price: With Pete and Carl you have two guys who are somewhat different but also, in a very special way, complementary to each other. And that obviously leads one into comparisons with Strummer and Jones, Lennon and McCartney. Quite obviously, Carl is the Mick Jones or Paul McCartney and Peter is the Joe Strummer or John Lennon. When you have two people with such talent who manage to spark off each other and collaborate as well, that's a very creative situation.
Pete Doherty: Those first couple of days, we were like a greyhound out of the trap: it was unbelievable. We must have done, oh, 930 songs...well, 11. I think we almost felt like we had to get it down in the first couple of days because that may be the only chance we'd get, especially the way things were with my private life and my relationship with the band.
James Endeacott: They were definitely driven in the studio to get it done.
Carl: I was driven to the studio in order that i might remain there. It was alright, a bit like having a personal prison warder. The minders were good chaps though. There was loads of table football and pool playing.
James Endeacott: There was a lot of down-time, waiting for people to arrive. Carl got pretty good at table football.
Carl Barat: 'Course I did. But behind every great man, there's a great big security guard.
Pete Doherty: I think the security guards were unneccessary, really. But then again, it depends what you consider unneccessary because without them I don't think we'd have got to the studio each day. They didn't fuck about. Mine would turn up at my flat and, wade through pyschadelica twins and crack dealers, grab me by the neck, take me to the car, empty the flat of people, and drive off.
Alan McGee: With the security, I think we had a 75% success rate of getting Pete and Carl to the studio for the first couple of weeks. That went down to a 5% success rate by the end...
John Hassall: It was quite bizarre being in the live room with two burly security guards standing on either side with their arms folded while Mick Jones was dancing around.
Alan McGee: That album would never have been made without Mick because he understands them brilliantly and never took sides.
Carl Barat: He was the dancer. Mick is like Dr Pangloss from (Voltaire's 1759 novel) Candide - 'everything is for the best in this best of all possible worlds'. He just kept it all together, really.
Bill Price: They are probably quite capable of keeping their own spirits up, but Mick kept their eyes in the right direction so to speak.
Carl Barat: John and Gary were fantastic. A machine with a heart, that's Gary and John's rythm section. It was like blood and metal - no, that sounds like a fucking Slayer album - they're great talents in their own right.
Despite the early setbacks, the recording sessions prove very productive.
Geoff Travis: Once they got going, I wasn't worried about it. After the first day and the slight fracas had passed we started getting reports that everyone was getting on great and it was going really well. At that moment I was completely relaxed and felt confident that it was going to happen.
Gary Powell: The atmosphere was pretty good. Obviously there were some things going on that we didn't really partucularly like but when we were actually playing in the studio, round our instruments talking about the music, it was great. It was so much fun.
Carl Barat: I had family problems and Pete came and talked to me like the friend that I hadn't had for a long time, and that made me really happy. The only bad moments were when Peter was having his tantrums.
Alan McGee: Around the time that Pete had done the Wolfman single (For Lovers), he was in the studio three sheets to the wind (????) wearing just a leather jacket and was completely written on (with biro by fans, following the launch party at London's Cafe de Paris). I walked into the studio to say something inane about soap that i was going to throw their way. I saw Peter had a pair of jeans on - one leg was torn off and he had no socks or shoes - and I just thought - fucking hell!
Pete Doherty: Yeah, occasionally i let myself down and I was ashamed. But then so did Carl, and do did James Endeacott, and so did Jonesy...And he had a baby as well.
Carl Barat: The best bits were those scattered moments of togetherness and unity. There's not particular anecdote, just certain times in the live room, knowing that we'd reached something deeper and everything else was just something superficial. We were in the eye of the storm and it was so calm. Togetherness and happiness: they're the things that keep you going.
Pete Doherty: Recording 'What Katie Did' with Carl singing was a happy day. That was like being at the start again. I was, like, confident that we were a band and these songs were ours.
James Endeacott: There were great days at the studio when you were down there with Mick Jones and (Clash DJ pal and film-maker) Don Letts, thinking, 'This is like the fucking Clash making London Calling.' It was as exciting as that. There was a buzz.
John Hassall: My favourite moment would have to be when Gary wrote on the blackboard in the bar 'Free drinks on Mick Jones!' (Laughs) The look on Mick's face when he came downstairs...
Gary Powell: The funniest moment for me was when Carl went out drinking with the studio's chef and put him out of action for ten days. In the meantime we had a Lithuanian sous chef cooking (Laughs). All we got was risotto for five days.
James Endeacott: There was practically a riot from all the other musicians in the recording studio when they realised there was no food!
APRIL 23: early mixes of the album's tracks are played black to the band and representatives from the label for the first time.
Geoff Travis: Peter was unfortunately long gone (by this point) but Carl, John and Gary were there, and Mick and Bill played us the whole thing in the studio. It was just euphoria, really exciting.
Carl Barat: I love 'The Man Who Would Be King'. The waltz bit at the end came out in the studio. (Adopts American accent) It was just a little idead I had, y'know?
James Endeacott: 'Campaign of Hate' and 'Tomblands' are my favourites. I love the melodies in them and the sentiment behind them, especially 'Campaign of Hate' - the bit about "White kids talking like they're black/ Rich kids dressing like they're poor". I think it's classic English social commentary and harks back to the first album like, "There are few more distressing sights than that of an Englishman in a baseball cap", from 'Time for Heroes'.
John Hassall: I think it would have to be 'Can't Stand Me Now'. That should have been Number One, and it worries me to think that it wasn't.
Pete Doherty: I loved 'What Katie Did' and 'Cyclops', which I really wanted on the record at the time.
Carl Barat: That's the magic of Bill and Mick, bringing it out. It was just amazing listening to how chaos had been ordered.
On May 14, while the album was still being mixed, Peter entered The Priory for the first of three aborted attempts at rehab.
James Endeacott: The recording was fraught with tension but I dont't think it was any tenser than any other band making a record. Pete went into rehab three times, so of course it was difficult. Carl was doing his vocals while waiting for a cab to take him to The Priory to see Pete. Then the cab would bring him back to the studio to do more guitar, so of course it is going to be a but fucked-up. But that atmosphere wasn't as bad as people were making out.
Pete Doherty: When I was in The Priory they sent me monitor mixes. All these things were seeping out my system. I was quite exposed, and the songs hit home perfectly. It was sort of a ritual to listen to it, again and again and again. Enjoying it, pretending I'd never heard it before in my life. They were still in the studio though, mainly mixing, I think.
Carl Barat: We spent about 10 days in the live room and the rest was mixing and table football. We took it slowly. There was very little to put on afterwards; a couple of vocals, my trumpet, obviously, and Mick's piano.
AUGUST 30: after a torrid summer in which Pete is in and out of rehab and court and the rest of the band are forced to fulfil festival commitments without him, the self-titled album is finally released. It enters the UK album charts at Number One.
James Endeacott: After the birth of my child, it's the most exciting that's happened to me. The celebrations were fairly muted, though, as the others were abroad and had played Reading and Leeds without Peter just before it came out.
Alan McGee: With The Libertines it wasn't, 'Is it going to be good?' It was' 'Will they fucking finish it?' The fact is it's a seminal album and possibly the best British album since fucking 'Definitely Maybe'.
Geoff Travis: Just fingers-crossed for an album number three.
Pete Doherty: Mick Jones had a baby around the time of 'Up the Bracket' and he had another little girl around the time of 'The Libertines'. That's two Libertines babies. So I'm saying this to the world: you want another Libertines album? Then get Mick Jones' missus to eat some fucking oysters or something!
Signatur
"On the off-chance that you're here tonight, I thought you might like to know you broke my heart"
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DrunkenProphet
Sailed away on the Albion
Status: Offline
Registriert seit: 26.07.2006
Beiträge: 10110
Nachricht senden | | Erstellt am 10.05.2008 - 21:40 | |
hab das hier wiedergefunden.
geklaut und übersetzt von p_penelope aus livejournal
by Anna Stephens
The story of Carl Barât (singer and guitarist), Pete Doherty (singer and guitarist), John Hassall (bassist) and Gary Powell (drummer) wouldn't have been the same without the help of the UK press. For more than two years The Libertines have been like tea to the British: a daily tradition. Their uninhibited lifestyles and confrontations between the two singers fueled the sensationalist media.
The group's history begins in the late 90s and always revolves around the singers. Carl Barât was trying to seduce Pete Doherty's sister while they were studying at Brunel University. She was the one who introduced Carl to Pete, who ended up interested in Carl's sister. It's unknown whether or not they achieved their amorous objectives, but the two of them started a group in 1996 and once Gary and John joined in 2001, they formally became The Libertines.
They recorded "I Get Along", an EP with five songs, two produced by Mick Jones (formerly of The Clash), another two by Bernard Butler (formerly of Suede), and the rest by The Libertines themselves. In October 2002 they released "Up the Bracket", their first LP. The album made them a cult band in England. Their gigs were arranged by internet and once the show was over the group would invite their fans to their flats to continue the party. Their fame grew and in 2003 they were named the best new group according to NME and best band of the moment in Great Britain by The Guardian.
Pete Doherty's drug addiction made him unable to perform at one of the concerts on the band's European tour. Feeling displaced, in June Doherty founded a rival "Libertines" that would later change its name to "Babyshambles". In July he stole a laptop and an antique guitar from Carl's flat, his six-month sentence was cut to two months and in September Barât met his friend as he left prison.
Last year the self-titled album came out. All the songs reflect Carl and Pete's relationship; it's said that Mick Jones had to hire a pair of bodyguards to calm the potential for explosions between the two singers during recording.
From May to June 2004 Pete's status in The Libs was uncertain. His stays in various rehab centers in England and in the Thamrabok Monastery in Thailand didn't manage to free him of his addictions to heroin and cocaine. The Libs started a tour of the UK and US with Anthony Rossomando as Doherty's temporary replacement.
The yellow press has a lot of material to satisfy its desire to speculate: that Barât fired Doherty for his addiction, that Pete has quit drugs and is coming back to the band, that Alan McGee conspired against him, that Doherty might marry Kate Moss, that Pete and Carl are both bisexual, etc. There's gossip all over the Web and on discussion boards dedicated to the group, but where's the music?
Definitely, the self-titled second album is as raw as its reality and just when it was hoped that 2005 would see them reaching international levels of success, in autumn of the previous year Carl Barât, Gary Powell and John Hassall decided to take an indefinite break. Pete Doherty is busy with Babyshambles; John Hassall with Yeti; Gary Powell is resting... and Carl Barât?
Last year Carl Barât announced in a radio interview his plan to come to Mexico to promote the release of "The Libertines" and to spin records. The news seemed only a polite declaration of interest, but Noiselab confirmed it at the end of March: Carl Barât and Alan McGee would be dj'ing in Mexico City April 6 and 9.
I arrived at noon at the hotel where Barât and McGee were staying. I asked where to go at the reception desk, no one there knew who I was talking about and there was no sign of the label reps. The desk clerk asked me to wait in the lobby while he helped me figure out the situation. Maybe I'd gotten the address wrong, or the time, I had a few minutes to take a taxi and go wherever I was really supposed to be. Just when I was going to call the label to confirm the facts, Carl Barât appeared, dressed completely in black, on a 27C day. I was in the right place. A waiter came over to tell me that the interviews were being held on the roof-top terrace.
I went up in what had to be the most claustrophobic elevator ever, only two people fit in it comfortably. McGee and Barat were separately answering questions from two reporters. I would have to wait my turn. The sun was unbearable. A chat with the Mexico label rep, a little ice water and the sun kept beating down. Carl finishes his interview and like a hyperactive child he goes down to his room, comes back up to the roof, lights a cigarette, walks, leans out and looks at the street, talks with Mario (his bodyguard in Mexico), drinks a little, goes back to the room for his guitar, talks on the phone, goes back to his room and comes back with a pair of boxing gloves to bother McGee who's still giving an interview, then he goes down and changes from his black t-shirt into a white shirt. That's the way he acted for almost 30 minutes.
[I've left out the Alan McGee interview]
After some shuffling around, the interview with Carl Barât starts. The native of Basingstoke, Inglaterra is slender, but with a slight paunch, blue-green eyes and black hair. He lights a cigarette, which reveals the terrible condition of his teeth, and arranges the microphone in his shirt, unbuttoned half-way. The hangover from emptying the minibar in his room the night before is indisputible. In contrast with his manager, Carl answers questions immediately, just how he feels at the moment, and his moment is anxious. He doesn't stop scratching the inside of his left elbow (already irritated), he lights one cigarette after another and he fidgets constantly, which makes the mic fall off a couple of times. He begins the chat talking about Mexico. "I've heard that people here are passionate and enthusiastic, like Latins are."
Isn't it strange that he's here by himself, promoting a group on an indefinite break?
"Yeah, they tricked me. They said I was coming on holiday and it turns out that I'm not. When I got here they told me I'd be doing a DJ set, playing, interviews, radio, signings. Definitely the most comfortable place for me is with a band. It's not the first time that I've played records, I've done it with Dirty Pretty Things, but it still feels strange. I play what's in style in England and classics. I'm not like Fatboy Slim, I just put on records. But where's my holiday gone? I'm worried about playing because my voice hasn't been good recently."
Why did the band decide to break up for a while?
"I think it would have been unfair to Peter to keep playing without him and we decided to wait for him to get better. The status of the band is that everyone's doing his own thing. Yeti? John's a good songwriter and singer but it's not my kind of music, although I admire John's efforts to promote his group. Time will tell. Babyshambles? No comment. I keep in touch with everyone, except Peter. I'll talk to him again when he quits crack. Probably the first and last songs on the album are the ones that best represent The Libertines right now."
Referring to "What Katie Did", as what Katie did is a mystery. His response was obvious: "You don't want to know, really you don't. The song is a metaphor for the book of the same title. The sequel is 'What Katie Did Next'."
Well Carl, that sequel is a Babyshambles song.
"Really? Bastards! Alan must know something about it, he's always on the internet."
Did they hope to get so famous with this second album?
"I wasn't thinking about that. There were such tense moments that it was the last thing I would have thought of. Just recording the record, finishing it, that's all. It was very difficult. Making it and having it ready was what we really wanted. I don't listen to what we recorded because I'm trying to move ahead and write new music. I don't need to listen to it."
I suppose there must be a lot of other songs you wrote with Doherty; what will happen with them?
"Well, we recorded some and not others and it's probable that they'll be on another Libertines record."
Carl Barât has always said that his goal was to create a community with The Libertines' music. He's managed it world-wide. "Everyone has the freedom to be heard and the confidence to be part of that community. People realised that they can do it once The Libertines put the machinery in motion, which is an honour for us. I don't know if we're a cult band. It depends on your definition. I think it has a lot to do with being in touch with people, worrying about them and listening to them and taking those experiences to music. Being sincere. Internet is one of the strongholds of the community, we came out of that medium. Before it was a mechanism that kept you from being outstanding, but everything has to do with a community, right? It makes you grow, it makes you stronger. Even though I don't use the internet I recognise the power it's had to give people a voice, to communicate."
History tells us that various tortured relationships like Doherty and Barat's have never ended well, at least not for the music. "I don't think that'll be our case and if it is, I would be John Squire because I'm the guitarist. I don't know much about that relationship, but there must have been a lot of pain, rancor and anger. I feel like that, but then I think about the reasons why he [Peter] should come back. Right now I have to make this new album and prove myself as a solo artist. Write songs. I don't think I'll perform solo, I see myself more with a band. Probably I'll put together a new band, just to put out a new record. Not sit around waiting for Pete ... follow John's example."
Being such a conflicted, explosive band must have been something that brought them together to support one another and to go on together. What are the requirements for being a Libertine?
"Loving life and all the pain and frustration it brings with it. It's not easy to define one element that's necessary to be a Libertine. We haven't achieved happiness as a group, but I don't think any band has. I feel happy when I'm on stage with them. In a way I feel liberated because we've done what we wanted, but you learn that with so many ambitions at a personal level you're never going to feel completely free because there will always be something you have to do. I think there are a lot of people in that position."
The question is whether the group would have been as famous without the help of the press.
"Well, it's like what they did with The Strokes or The White Stripes or Jimi Hendrix in the 60s, without media attention they wouldn't exist. So, yeah, it's been fundamental. I'm not talking about the tabloids, the tabloids are irresponsible. Publications like NME are dangerous, they can destroy you in a second. There aren't many lies about us in the press, but journalists just take one piece of reality. I'm not interested in responding to what Peter says because I'm not interesting in entertaining the press with that. I don't need my opinions and what I know is going on with us to be published or to show up in forums. I'm sticking with my patience and faith. I've got used to talking about Peter but in another sense. I think that part of my life will never change."
I ask his opinion about the use of his music as the theme song for a deodorant commercial. Incredulously he asks me to repeat the question, then responds: "How weird! I'm not interested in doing business with that kind of thing. It's funny. Is the deodorant any good, at least? I think I'll buy some to try it. (Laughter) How strange! Usually they talk about that kind of thing with the group first. In England the Dandy Warhols gave permission to Vodaphone to use 'Bohemian Like You' and after that, the song was a hit."
He calls Alan over to talk to him about the Axe affair. McGee decides to ask and calls his office in England to investigate whether they asked permission and if they're paying royalties to use the song.
Right now, what's the band you're most excited about?
"I like what the Kaiser Chiefs are doing. That kind of song like hymns, I like those."
Finally, how would you like The Libertines to be remembered?
"It's enough for me that we'll be remembered. It would be good if our music became part of someone's life. Maybe it's too much to ask that we've managed to liberate someone with our songs, but you never know...'
The interview is over. The singer asks Mario to take him to eat. We all leave the terrace. Carl, Alan and I in the claustrophobic elevator talking, pleasantly accompanied by Barât's guitar and his doubts about his physical appearance. "I don't think I look Spanish, do I? A lot of people ask me if my family is from there." And he tries to say somethings in Spanish: "¿Dónde esta el matador? ¿Dónde esta torero?" A couple of minutes go by and the elevator doesn't move. No one had punched any buttons. Once we're in the lobby, we promise to see each other the next day at Hard Rock Live.
The Artist doesn't DJ
The Hard Rock Live was neither half-full nor half-empty. You could come and go from the bar without much of a problem. Of course, in front of the stage no one was leaving their place. Rulo was the first DJ to entertain the crowd with a good selection of music, then it was Los Fancy Free's turn, who attempted to confuse everyone thanks to Martin Tulin's "happening". Alan McGee appeared on the stage to a very warm welcome. His Death Disco included songs by The Beatles, Oasis, Blur, The Rolling Stones, The Libertines, Scissor Sisters, among others. Alan sang the songs as if they were his own and encouraged everyone to do the same. After an hour-long set, McGee said goodbye to make room for Carl Barât, who was introduced with "Can't Stand Me Now". As soon as Carl's silhouette was barely visible papers, cell phones, pens, hats, shirts, sneakers, handkerchiefs, tickets, ID cards and every possible signable object were held out. Mario got the venue's security men to relax a little. Alan McGee returned to the stage to keep playing records while Carl signed everything that was put in front of him, taking a few minutes to tell Alan what to play, to have his picture taken, to hug everyone who got through to him and to chat with people who managed to yell to him. That's how the entire night was. What was meant to be a Libertine DJ set turned into a night-time autograph session with McGee spinning records. Carl took the mic to express his gratitude for the warm welcome he'd received in Mexico and promised to come back soon, putting an end to the Hard Rock Live night.
Backstage Barât looked calm, talking and drinking with everyone. Alan told me that the situation with Axe had been resolved and that they were paying royalties. After a couple of drinks the afterparty was in a house in Roma [nice Mexico City area]. Mario rode with McGee and Barât in an SUV. Their Mexican label rep went in another car, worried because "The Artist" (as he was called after that night) had gotten into the SUV, since after Barât's attempts to leave the hotel without anyone noticing the rep would have to try to stay on top of things.
Getting drugs in London is almost as easy as buying them in Amsterdam: Carl Barât.
The flat was small and the fifteen of us who were there managed to find space in the dining room, the living roon, the floor or the kitchen. The Artist spent a few minutes in the kitchen and then shut himself up in a bedroom. He appeared in order to pour himself a drink and to talk a little about Placebo and drugs in Amsterdam.
After I gave him a quick summary of the trio's success in our country, Carl told me that he didn't like their music and that he was only familiar with "Nancy Boy". "Placebo in Europe are a cult band but they almost go under the radar. They're staying in the same hotel as us and yesterday we were talking and drinking a little with them. The first time I met them, we were all relaxed, talking and drinking at a party at a flat in London and out of nowhere Brian Molko shows up with a ton of mascara on, yelling hysterically (he imitates): 'Where are my cigarettes? Who stole my cigarettes? No one leaves until I find them!' He spent a few minutes yelling and asking everyone until the bastard realised that they were in his jacket pocket. But I was with them last night and they told me that they were going to go to the pyramids tomorrow... Hey, Mario, when are we going to the pyramids?" Sunday, Mario tells him. "I've never tried peyote, but I'd like to. I don't like pot. Getting drugs in London is almost as easy as buying them in Amsterdam, they're better, even. They say that in Amsterdam you buy them like sweets, it's true, but drugs in London are better."
The Artist drinks mezcal and dances to "Hey Ya"
The next day The Artist shows up at an interview at a radio station with a bottle of mezcal and the first thing he asks for, after saying hello, are glasses. Seated in the waiting room he asks who wants to drink and starts pouring before going into the studio once the interview with Jamie Stewart and Cara of Xiu Xiu is over. The Artist does his thing: he signs autographs, has his photo taken and smokes cigarettes.
"Hey, I haven't seen you drink..." Carl sticks a glass of mezcal in my face. "Of course, yesterday we were doing it." "But you haven't drunk like I have." The glass stays in front of my face. "You first, you're the guest," I tell him. Mr. Barât drinks down the mezcal and instantly pours me one. My first encounter with mezcal wasn't as painful as I thought it would be, at least not right then.
Alan and Carl go into the studio for the interview, during which my cell phone is the victim of Carl's anxiety, Carl snatches it away from me and tries unsuccessfully to talk on the phone and to win at Snake. After I make fun of him, I get my phone back and he takes out his own to try the games. The on-air chat goes on without Barât losing his cool when they ask him a question or when his telephone makes a sound.
Today's party is on the terrace of a hotel in Polanco [nice neighborhood in Mexico City]. Dozens of yuppies, some members of Molotov, The Fancy Free, Xiu Xiu, promotors, radio types. The welcome is the responsibility of The Artist, who's sitting next to the jacuzzi with Mario and a female fan. Carl's invitation to use the jacuzzi is almost immediate. In the face of his insistence it's best to leave him with his fan, who doesn't stop smiling at him and taking photos of every centimetre of his skin.
Elsewhere Alan McGee is playing records, almost the same DJ set he did in the Hard Rock Live. Once his turn is over Alan comes over and has a little white wine. It's the only thing he drinks: wine and some beer.
Bored, Carl and Jamie Stewart (of Xiu Xiu) decide to try out the gym equipment. With all their rock-star gear on both singers get on their respective treadmills. Neither backs down in the face of the looks and laughs of everyone there, both concentrating solely on exercising until a security guard asks them to get off.
Carl's boredom becomes desperation and he happily accepts an invitation to a livelier, more private party two blocks away. He asks permission to go from the label rep and then asks to go for his guitar or to get one to play there, but his request is denied. Mario makes sure that both Barât and McGee get into the SUV. Single-file, five cars leave the place at about 1:00 a.m.
The first thing Barât does when he gets to the party is put on some music. The Clash, of course. Then he goes to the kitchen and hides out there for the better part of the night with a brunette he was talking to at the hotel and who doesn't leave him alone for a second. Eventually he goes back to the living room to put on some different music, get a cigarette and talk a little (only when his fan lets him). It's almost dawn when "Enjoy the Silence" comes on. Carl sings and dances a little, while the brunette tries to get him to hug her. Then there's The Coral and Franz Ferdinand, after that Outkast's "Hey Ya", a song which captures Carl's attention; he dances and sings along to the entire song.
Xiu Xiu are trying to survive their first drunken binge in Mexico. Cara gets an invitation from Alan to play bass tomorrow during Carl's gig, after the show at the Fuzz Club. Nervous and excited, Cara turns down the invitation "because it's a huge thing what Alan McGee is asking and honestly I don't think I could do it well, I'm very sorry", but she promises to go to the Pasagüero to see Carl play.
Since there's no wine, McGee drinks soda and dances with everyone, until he announces his departure at 5:30 in the morning. Barât protests: "Oh... Bloody Scottish!" Alan confirms that we'll all be at the Pasagüero that night, putting us on the guest list. The party ends with the apartment's owner getting out of bed in his underwear to turn off the stereo and to shout that the party's over. Thrown out of the best party of the year so far, the only thing left to do is sleep a little.
Carl Barât's solo debut
The Pasagüero was full. It was the first time that Carl Barât was playing without The Libs since their break-up. Cameras, camcorders, taperecorders. The club was a steam bath. DJ Negro, DJ Koggi and Sonido Lasser Drakar got everyone revved up before McGee's Death Disco. Alan varied his set a little compared with what he played at the Hard Rock Live. There was more The Smiths, Morrissey, Graham Coxon, New Order and The Libertines. Behind the turntables, a drum kit. The entire stage was fenced off by a metal border about a metre high and in back there was a screen playing the "Boys in the Band" DVD. Alan looked much more comfortable and happy than at the Hard Rock Live. He shared wine with the people in the first few rows and once the bottle was empty he threw it towards the back while the next one came. He went off to a huge round of applause.
The stage was ready for Carl Barât and Carlos Icaza (drummer for Los Fancy Free), who showed up half an hour before the Pasagüero bar was supposed to close. It was almost the same as at the Hard Rock. As soon as Carl Barât took the stafe all kinds of things were held out to him prayerfully, waiting for his signature. Carl signed a few things and started to play. "Can’t Stand Me Now" (without singing Doherty's lines), "What A Waster", "The Boy Looked At Johnny", and "I Get Along" were some of the songs he played. Again thanking the unexpected welcome he'd got in Mexico he left to do an interview backstage, which was divided off only by a large wood screen. The crowd moved over there trying in vain to get Alan's and Carl's attention for autographs. Carl was dealing with the press and Alan came back on stage to play a little more music. With the place a little less crowded, Barat came out to have his photo taken, talk with his fans and sign autographs... The Artist.
Pool, drums and groupies
Carl wanted a party and arrangements were made to go to a house in Jardines del Pedregal. "Are you coming with us?" he asked me. It was 3:30 a.m. and although I'd gotten my voice back a little, the sore throat I'd had for days was turning into severe laryngitis, plus a cold. Fatigue was also claiming its victims. "Yeah, see you there," I answered. We found the place after being lost for 20 minutes. Now almost dawn, there were about 15 of us there there.
There was a pool table, a drum kit, an organ, the bar, a couple of chairs and tables. Again Carl spent a while in the bathroom and then started playing pool with an NME reporter. Barât observed his opponent's shots from the drum kit. He sang everything he was listening to on an iPod hooked up to the stereo. He looked happy, enjoying the early morning in spite of a groupie who harrassed him constantly, hugging him and whispering things into his ear.
At the bar there were three other women who were yelling for Mario. Once he'd calmed them down, Mario came back with Carl. Alan asked, "You're coming to the pyramids with us, right?" I looked at my watch. It was 6 a.m. The sky was turning from black to blue. The vampire effect was cleverly avoided by one of Barât's admirers, who got up from her chair to close the blinds. Meanwhile the singer was talking with the NME at another table.
"Carlos!" came a shout from the bar. One of the groupies was demanding Carl's presence. He kept on doing his thing: having photos taken. Apparently he didn't hear that a desperate woman needed him. The shouts multiplied. The three groupies kept whining for more than fifteen minutes. We were all looking at them, hoping that sooner or later they'd stop spoiling the party. Mario and Alan's patience ran out and they talked with the girls, trying in vain to get them to shut up. Carl took advantage of this to go to the bathroom, when he returned a very skinny woman blocked his path back to the NME's table. Like a complete English gentleman Mr. Barât asked her to move aside and let him go by. She hugged him and said things into his ear which, instead of pleasing him, made him desperate. Seeing that the woman wouldn't stop trying to get him to hang out with her, Carl tried to move her to one side. She insisted. Tension. We were all watching. Then the groupie hugged him and murmured into his ear. "Fuck off! Bitch!" The Libertine shook off the groupie and pushed her, yelling, in Spanish now, "¡Pendeja! ¡Estúpida! ¡Puta!" [Asshole! Idiot! Bitch!] She went back to her seat at the bar and responded in kind: "Idiot! Moron!" He sat at our table disturbed and a little upset. "You should have done that a long time ago," I said to him. Yeah, I know, he answered, and turned around to keep yelling back at her.
Already calmer, Carl played another one of his jokes on me, saying that I had kissed Alan at the party in Polanco. The joke went on until Alan told him that it wasn't true. Carl's agitation came back, making a victim of my friend, who talked with him while he played with the stockings decorated with red roses that she was wearing.
It was almost eight a.m. and the owner of the house asked us to leave. Carl dances lambada-style to Queen with the groupie at whom he was yelling just moments ago. We all left. Someone showed Mr. Barât the front page of "Reforma" which talked about Camilla and Charles's wedding. His reaction was obvious. He quickly got into the SUV, avoiding the harassment of his fans, who asked over and over where the car was going. Alan pretended not to know where they were going. The plan was to go and sleep a little at the hotel and then leave at noon for the pyramids. Everyone does his own thing.
The reunion
Mexico City awoke and the punishing sun returned. My state of health couldn't have been worse. An hour later, there was a call inviting us to continue the party in the hotel. Apparently the plan to sleep had changed. Alan, Carl and his groupies were still partying.
I turned down the invitation but the plan to go to the pyramids later was still on, until later they told us that it wouldn't be possible because Alan was asleep and Carl suddenly locked himself in his room and wouldn't answer the door or the phone. Days later I found out that, in order to obey the rock-star code, Carl Barât destroyed the wall of his hotel room.
That afternoon the singer toured Paseo de la Reforma [a famous street in Mexico City]. The flight back to London would leave Monday. The Libertine had to return to writing songs to fulfill his solo deal.
During the time I spent with Carl it was impossible not to see the melancholy he felt for his friend. Weeks later it was announced in the UK that Carl Barat and Pete Doherty had met in a London pub and that they'd caught up on everything the other had been doing recently. Hopes for a reunion grew and Alan McGee declared the group's importance in Mexico. Beyond the record deals and the evident emotional damage, everything else is unclear.
What happened to the likely lads, Carl?
"I don't know. Maybe they'll come back."
The interview with Carl Barât was conducted Tuesday 5 April 2005 and was published in part in the July 2005 issue of "La Mosca".
Signatur
"On the off-chance that you're here tonight, I thought you might like to know you broke my heart"
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Leider ist das Heft vergriffen.
