It did occur to me to put Doherty at the end of another English tradition. In the same way that my dissertation on Andrew Marvell, 40 years ago, made use of a point that the poet came at the end of a tradition and re-cycled the pastoral, lyric and Metaphysical or Elizabethan conceits and hyperbole, Doherty is well versed in the punk, reggae and all the styles that came before but maybe that applies to lots of them. My knowledge of the NME is not what it was in 1973.
The Puta Madres might be more than T. Rex were without Marc Bolan, or Simply Red without Mick Hucknall, but whether it is them, Babyshambles or solo, it's always really a Doherty album. As were The Libertines except I suspect Carl Barat of being more than a session man.
And so, much more tuneful than the scratchy guitar sound affected by the Libertines Live, it is more insouciance, bleary-eyed vocals, exquisite guitar parts and world-weary poetry. I think it's meant to sound makeshift while being finely crafted, some of the songs emerge from murmurings that don't sound like Motown classics but, as well as his nifty guitar, his band have violin to make it sound a bit Country and Hammond organ to refer us back to the 60's.
Whether any of these songs turn out to be the masterpieces that Can't Stand Me Now, Don't Look Back into the Sun or Music When the Lights Go Out were is hard to say but after the epoch-making, there was plenty more to come, given that your average good idea for a band usually works out at two and a half albums.
If these songs sound like those that a Doherty songwriting machine would produce, with gorgeous moments but sudden changes, it could be worse. Anybody who is any more than a one-trick pony is any good and he's got at least two tricks. A more likely complaint is that the 11 tracks are short shrift these days, reminding those of us old enough of The Faces' lame excuse for an 'album', Ooh, La La, which was a very thin couple of singles augmented by a backing track and whatever else the boys hfound lying around. Not value for money, more putting out an album because an album needs to be put out.
But Pete remains the miracle of his generation to set against Keith Richard.
I could cite certain tracks, quote words (like I was working on the main line all my life long day) and comment more specifically but the message seems to be to make it look as if you're not trying that hard, so I won't either. Play people at their own game when you can.
As far as I'm concerned, he's likely to be the last, the last of the English roses. Sometimes unintentionally, but not always, writers are writing about themselves.
