It’s Peter’s birthday today, and he’s 39. In some ways, it’s an amazing number.
Anyone who says they aren’t worried about how long we’ll have Peter is surely a liar. We mercifully worry less than we used to, but worry comes with the territory of being so invested in his beautiful, terrible, mad, blessed life. Every quiet, peaceful day becomes a gift, every song and gig and album a hundred times so. Every milestone feels all the more Olympic in it’s glory.
This past month marked the first time The Libertines came to Australia, all four of them, together. Carl and the others had come alone in 2004, and I wondered if it might be tinged with a little bitterness for Peter to return now. It seemed very much the opposite.
To witness those smiling, tanned faces, tourists on this little island, so genuinely enjoying their wide-eyed adventure, reaching that sense of completion, was such a relief and a joy. And moreover to see how safe and calm the space on stage has become between Peter and Carl. How warm and relaxed. The past month has felt like a full circle in many ways, like so much of the past has been undone and a gentler, kinder, healthier history written.
On a personal note, it was the culmination of many years of missed chances for me to finally place a gift into Peter’s mammoth paws. A tiny thank you for all that he’s done for me, and all of us, for so long.
And so we hang on to what is coming. Immense dreams that feel almost casually made a reality: a hotel, a true Albion Rooms, another Libertines album, another tour, Peter’s solo tours, Peter’s albums, more time, more stories, more songs, more songs, more songs.
Because that’s what stays and that’s what history retains, and that’s why we are all here. The story and the songs, forever. Happy birthday Peter Doherty, and thank you for sharing your life, your prose and your melodies with us. Stick around alright.
suchasinistergame 