Dirty Pretty Things: 'Romance At Short Notice'

With all the fanfare and eulogising that continues to surround The Libertines, it's easy to forget that the band only ever released two albums. Both Carl Barât and Pete Doherty have now matched that modest tally with their respective post-Libs acts, with Babyshambles and Dirty Pretty Things becoming firm fixtures on the indie landscape. While this may be distressing for fans clinging onto dreams of a reunion, it also poses a genuine problem for the former bandmates. If the Libertines really are dead and buried, why should we still care about them?

Doherty will always be able to pack a venue with rubberneckers who've read about his latest dalliance with crack/the law/Kate Moss. But for Carl and his Pretty Things the old cliché of it being "all about the music" rings true - let's be honest, the Daily Star won't be breaking any showbiz scandals about drummer Gary Powell any time soon. The band's 2006 debut, Waterloo To Anywhere, was a moderate sales success buoyed by the stonking first single, 'Bang Bang You're Dead', but that will count for little if album number two fails to catch fire. In an increasingly vicious musical climate, DPT need to find themselves some big hits if they're to avoid the indie-pop scrapheap.

'Tired Of England', with its meandering, Kinksy melody and waffling lyrics, was a curious choice of lead single. Fortunately, the majority of the album is vastly superior to this dreary affair. The likes of 'Buzzards & Crows' (basically a sea-shanty) and 'Hippy's Son' (guttural, snarling) may be a bit risqué for daytime radio, but they showcase Barât's fiery lyricism and grubby musical roots admirably.

Elsewhere, 'Come Closer' and 'Faultlines' prove that Carl can do a melodic acoustic number with just as much panache as his old mate Pete. His voice may not have the same dexterity or innate character as Doherty's, but he knows how to get the best out of it. The singalong chorus on 'Faultlines' is genuinely moving stuff, as Barât helms the sort of sunny ballad that the Kooks would give their right arms for.

Meanwhile, on the rattling, clanging 'Kicks Or Consumption' and buzzing punk of 'Chinese Dogs', DYP demonstrate a growing unity as a band. They sound less flabby and more accomplished than they did on their debut, so the shadows of Barât's previous exploits don't loom anywhere near as large.

The jangle-pop of 'Plastic Hearts', with its lazy "la la la la" hook, and the aimless, snooze-inducing 'The North' are low points, but thankfully neither is awful enough to dent the album's charm. Whether this is enough to lift DYP out of The Libertines' shadow remains to be seen. There's no standout commercial track on Romance; nor does it move away from the well-worn grot 'n' roll sound that Barât and Doherty patented in 2002. He'll need some new musical tricks come album number three, but Barât's likeability is enough to save the day here.