I've been avoiding this man for a very long time. Not in the same way I was avoiding The Sisters of Mercy--because I would get distracted and fall off track looking them up--but because I've had multiple comparisons to him throughout my life. All the things I find romantic, acquaintances and strangers link back to him. One internet anonymous even once told me that the model in one of my photographs looked like a lady Pete Doherty. The model was me. I don't see the similarities, but there you have it. He is always coming up in regards to my life.
Non-existent physical similarities is not what I'm talking about, though. It seems that often, after reading my writing, people will ask me if I'm a fan of Pete Doherty. To which I respond:
"The heroin addict?"
"Well he's a musician, you know. He was in The Libertines."
"Right. No, I've never heard The Libertines."
"Well I bet you'd like it."
"Why?"
"Because it's dark and sad but really catchy."
(People did the same thing about "Requiem for a Dream" which, when I finally did see, I fell in love with. I don't know what to think about everyone coming to me immediately when something about heroin happens.)
So I was kind of afraid to learn about him because I didn't want all of the things I do to be discounted or vastly affected by him. You see, I wrote an entire novel about a heroin addict (maybe that's why I get called to action at the mention of the our girl Brandy) and the last thing I need is for people to say "oh that's just Pete Doherty that you've written." So I didn't give him the chance to affect me. Plus, I was afraid everyone would be right and I would fall in love with him; because if he really is a messed up soul then he is exactly the kind of thing that I would fall for. I just don't have time for that. Therefore, I ignored him for years.
But, you see, apparently The Libertines are getting back together. I know this because the NME won't shut up about it. And all of my cookie-implanting, tracker-enforcing, social-media-type websites that I visit are just convinced that this would be an interesting fact for me.
Facebook: "I'd like to suggest some pages for you to like. I see that you really dig good English music. Well, how about The Libertines? No? Babyshambles? Pete Doherty? Come on, you know you want to. Look, he has sad eyes and is stringy. Just the way you like them." I'd never heard him make a sound, but I could tell you which bands he's involved in.
Tumblr: "You follow my page because you like my taste in music. Here's a picture of Damon Albarn. You liked that? Check this out! It's Pete Doherty and/or Carl Barât. Check out those super duper sad droopy eyes. OMG isn't it just sooo exciting that they're getting back together?! Hyde Park concert!!! We're all going! Come with us!"
Google: "You seem to have typed 'Peter Murphy tickets...' that's odd. Are you sure you didn't mean 'Peter Doherty tickets?' I think you did. Check out this Wikipedia snippet. He's from Haxham. Fancy that. Hey, isn't it you who has the fetish for the northernmost parts of England? Yeah, it's you. You did a search just the other night for 'Yorkshire' looking for pictures for a desktop background."
But what really got me was when I downloaded the YouTube app on my ipod. This app didn't know me yet, because it was linked to a new Google account. I looked up a grand total of three videos.
YouTube: "I see that you've looked up 'Noel Gallagher Simple Game of Genius;' 'Joy Division Transmission;' and 'Reading Festival Blur.' I recommend this interview Pete Doherty did on The Jonathan Ross Show next. I bet you'll super dig it."
I gave in. It was like he was haunting me. It was either start to hate him on principle or give it a go. So I went with the interview instead of music because, maybe, just maybe, if I saw him talk and thus appeased the gods of YouTube, they'd let me go back to my Post-Punk/Britpop happiness.
And, yeah, he started talking in this very quiet, slow, space-cadet kind of way and I felt immediately attached to him. He was dressed up all nice in a suit and being polite, but he was also all sweaty and stringy (as was promised by all the various places of haunting.) and his eyes wandered like he was in his own little world. Fucked up on drugs, mayhaps. Fucked up on life, mayhaps.
So, anyway, after the interview, he did a song. Just him and an acoustic guitar, sitting up there, playing some lovely picking and singing a really tragic little song. I think it was called "Beg, Steal, or Borrow."
And aloud, to the screen, I said "Goddamn it, no." With a sigh, I scrolled down looking for some music to listen to. For the next hour and a half I just listened to his music. Songs about remembering what happiness is, and wanting it, and calling it by name, but still being drenched in a downpour. That's what I got out of it, anyway. That and heroin in a condom. Seriously, though "Sheepskin Tearaway" blew my mind with it's beauty. All of this praise, however, was all for solo stuff. I still hadn't gotten to The Libertines.
Now here comes the weird part that no one saw coming:
I don't really like The Libertines.
I don't hate them. But I don't think they're fantastic. I think Pete Doherty has a great voice--and so does Carl Barât! I feel I have to specify that. And I think the lyrics are great. A lot of them are little poems, which I very much admire. I also appreciate the earworm use of things like "shoop shoop shoop da-lang-a-lang."
However, I don't like the instrumental music. In my opinion, the drums are boring and the bass is nearly drowned. It's all placed on that clean electric guitar and, while that is unattractive to me, it fits right in to the era in which it was conceived. It reminds me of all the music that was popular when I was in high school (Which is when this band was popular.).
I wouldn't necessarily avoid them, though, because I can get behind the punk feel that often comes up. Like in the song "Time for Heroes." That's a good song. And "Don't Look Back into the Sun" has a great riff, I'll give it that. The music is sometimes only saved by the control and command taken by the vocals, though. I'm going to call this phenomenon "reverse Interpol syndrome." Because Interpol (another band I'm supposed to like) has great music, but what I think is a less-than-satisfactory voice. Don't beat me to death over this dark secret I hold.
All that being said, I went out and immediately got Grace/Wastelands and have listened to it pretty constantly over the last day and a half. This is strange for me to do, so I must like it. I've listened to it in it's entirety more times than I've listened to Peter Murphy's Lion. And as for Babyshambles, they are pretty much what I'd wished The Libertines had been. I know the least about them, though. I don't know a lot about any of these these bands, really (give me a break, it's been two days), but it's kind of looking like I just don't like Carl Barât. Which I know is the unpopular opinion because everyone is so exuberantly beside themselves that they're getting back together.
To conclude this long explanation of my haunting and eventual acceptance of this musician, I summarise to this:
Yes, I do like Pete Doherty.
Fans of The Libertines, however, are more than welcome to give me a lengthy response about why I should like this band. Maybe there's a song out there that they've done that would just floor me. I may never know it if you don't tell me about it!
I leave you to listen to "For Lovers" which is Pete Doherty on Wolfman's debut track. I love it. If I was creating a soundtrack for the feeling of nostalgia, this would be on it.
I've paid the penalty. You're the jailer rattling the key. But the key is mine; I keep a spare one every time.
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