The Libertines’ debut was so shambolically beautiful that it felt like it was in constant danger of falling into pieces. That’s pretty much what happens on this sophomore effort. The band has turned in a 14-track effort of which only five or six are up to their usual standard of crumbling genius. The rest fails to summon the same magic that dominated their past work. The fact that co-frontman Pete Doherty’s life reads like a “before” story in a Betty Ford pamphlet couldn’t have helped much.