‘What’s Up?’: Carl Barât once named the worst song he had ever heard
Within the realm of British indie rock, the names of Carl Barât and Pete Doherty, collectively renowned as the dual frontmen of The Libertines, stand out as iconic figures. Their music, characterised by raw energy and poetic lyrics, struck a chord with a generation, with songs like ‘Can’t Stand Me Now’ and ‘Time for Heroes’ remaining signature anthems of rebellion and camaraderie.
Though Barât is just a year older than Doherty, the two emerged from contrasting backgrounds, but a shared pursuit bound them together. Doherty’s upbringing was rooted in the strict discipline of a military household, while Barât’s family background was steeped in artistry, with his father being a former artist and his mother deeply immersed in the counterculture movement.
Naturally, occupying the vanguard of London’s early 2000s indie scene meant an immersion in the crème de la crème of the music world, replete with its accompanying revelrous lifestyle. Like many others, Barât appreciates the work of The Velvet Underground so much that he’d go so far as to call Loaded his favourite album. He’s also a big Outkast fan “because they are damned good musicians”.
However, when it comes to the worst musical contributions, Barât wastes no time in naming the two that stuck in his mind for all the wrong reasons. “‘What’s Up?’ by 4 Non Blondes,” he admitted. “If that’s not bad enough, ‘The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins’ by Leonard Nimoy who plays Spock in Star Trek”. The Nimoy suggestion is probably understandable, but calling 4 Non Blondes’ iconic track a bad song seems a little less relatable.
In terms of personal influences, one in particular stands out as an obvious choice: David Bowie. Barât has expressed not only his admiration for Bowie’s music but also his appreciation for his self-assuredness and distinctive fashion sense. He shared his thoughts in 2017 during an event dedicated to Bowie: “I loved Bowie, Bowie had balls. I used to be terrified of wearing leather jackets and having long hair back in the ’90s, for fear of getting a kick in. But Bowie would walk around London looking like a mental patient,” he said.
He continued: “He wasn’t hard looking either, and he brazenly crossed the lines of gender at a time when he really did risk a kick-in for doing so, and he aced it, kick in free – a true hero and leader figure for all of us drop-outs and misfits, to follow. David Bowie had been an integral part of my life in many ways. I’ve known his music and engaged with it on a personal level ever since I can remember, as far back as being a toddler, in fact.”
Barât also emphasised the significance of ‘Oh! You Pretty Things’ from Bowie’s 1971 album Hunky Dory in the context of his career with The Libertines. Although the song differs in many respects from The Libertines’ indie-rock sound, it held a special place in Barât’s heart. The sentiment Bowie conveyed in this track, along with a few others from the same period, revolved around the societal shifts occurring within the generation at the time.
