Quelle surprise, The Libertines have delayed the release of their album. Oh Shit, indeed. Under the bed of whimsy and falsely projected intellect, hence the lavish All Quiet on the Eastern Esplanade title, are the rumblings of a fundamental indie rock nature. Oh Shit. This pedestrian fourth single feels like a panicked push, realising their collection of highs (Night of the Hunter) and middle-of-the-road numbers (Run Run Run, Shiver) needed a rock bottom. Run back the clock, turn back the hands of time and find some love for the generic beauties of mid-2010s indie rock. Crystals this, lottery tickets that. There is a sense of The Libertines clutching at what makes the UK fundamentally flawed yet unique, but the making enough money to get by mentality has a strange, optimistic curve to it.
Struggling to survive is not the twee number The Libertines have made for here and with a bit of better writing, Pete Doherty and Carl Barât would have a contemporary and timely hit on their hands. But it is hard to throw The Libertines far when their observation of struggle is those on the breadline are young, dumb and in love. Nikki is presented as loving the thrills and spills of life on the lash and in turn, it sounds as though The Libertines are compartmentalising all the struggle of living paycheck to paycheck and coming out the other end with the optimistic struggle of lacking funds. Love conquers all is the apparent message, but the crucial notes of heartfelt intimacy are lacking. Such is life in the real world. But this fly-on-the-wall approach feels relatively plain.
Is it a criticism of capitalist culture or a toothy grin and a thumbs up from those not experiencing the hardships? Either way, it feels like The Libertines have missed the point of their work. Putting Barât in as lead on this is an interesting change of pace though it does little to change the effectiveness, or blindly led lyrics. Vapid guitar work and the repetition of its title to expose some sort of danger to living this way is present, and for those who have found themselves deep in their overdraft and on the booze to navigate through the stress of living or yelling in their room as British Gas harden their grip around your wallet, this upbeat offering may come across as beyond missing the mark. Music forms a good escapism – though there is only so much a song like Oh Shit can do.
The Libertines have often found themselves dumbing and dulling down verbose cultural or economic issues as a way of presenting themselves as slinging their hook and being shoulder to shoulder with actual struggle. Theirs is different to ours, it would be wrong to suggest the band has not been through the wringer, but then Oh Shit sounds as though their troubles are long behind them. These are the lyrics and movements of a band out of step with their initial, plucky courage. Instead, it has been replaced with this morphed look down, or at the very least, to the left, of where they now stand. Protest the system becomes harder still when Oh Shit and its dull likes imply there is contentment in the adrenalin we feel when the debt collectors come knocking.
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