Music loves a ‘lost artist’, the idea of the man who burnt out before he faded away. Club 27, ‘My Sweetheart the Drunk’, “ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated”... these stories form the very foundations of rock mythology. Typically, an artist emerges in a flash of brilliance, churning out song after song with the ability to restore your faith in love and music and then, before you even know it, they’ve gone. Lost in haze of illness, addiction or worse, the moment passes and you can never get it back.
Peter Doherty by all rights should have belonged in the latter category. So sure were the BBC in 2007 of Doherty’s eventual demise, that he was one of the few public figures alongside senior politicians and the monarchy to have a ready-made obituary prepared for the ‘regrettable occasion’. Now I’m not for a minute suggesting that anything at all would have been achieved by a deceased ex-Libertine but what is unquestionable though, is that the concept of death or glory was a large part of what made Peter Doherty such a compelling character.
Take ‘Down In Albion’, for example, a record mired in abysmal songs of which the stunning lowlight came when Peter roped in his old cellmate with a penchant for Rastafarian rap to guest on a track named after the prison he spent four nights in after failing to make bail on charges of robbery and blackmail. But, alongside these moments of ear shredding agony, came songs which easily surpassed the contemporaries of his time. The likes of ‘Fuck Forever’, ‘Albion’ and ‘Kilamangiro’ positively vindicated the farcical endeavour of counting yourself amongst Doherty’s fan base.
Not any more. If history ever deems the release of ‘Grace / Wastelands’ as a moment worth documenting then it will surely be the point at which a once great talent completed his irreversible slide into mediocrity. The ship has certainly sailed for the last man in the last chance saloon.
On face value, the omens were good for Doherty’s first solo album. Although Stephen Street’s smooth-edged production ethic had removed much of the charm from the songs of ‘Shotters Nation’, one suspected that the same approach would prove more successful on an acoustic themed collection. Moreover, the inclusion of Graham Coxon as co-guitarist negated the spectre of Babyshambles ‘axe-grinder’ and drug buddy Mik Whitnall. Unfortunately though, no matter how polished they’ve been, the songs remain duds.
The tracklisting of Grace / Wastelands reads like a collection of off-cuts and half-thought out ideas littered across Doherty’s decade long career as a musician. A minority, most notably ‘Salome’ and ‘Sheepskin Tearaway’, fare well from such a re-evaluation. The rest would have done better to have remained scattered across the internet. Part of the charm of many of these songs in demo form was their rough and ready nature, embedded in the obscurity of Doherty’s legacy, they served as a testament to his potential. Forced into the cold light of day, tracks that originally appeared in this Marlin Brandoesque vein of rugged good looks now seem fundamentally flawed with sores, boils and calluses.
Album opener ‘Arcadie’, a sweet little acoustic ditty, sets the tone of things to come, “nice but nothing special”. Similarly, lead single ‘Last of the English Roses’ continues the trend of songs that are resoundingly ok. The trademark literary references are present. The same sense that it’s all been thrown together at the last moment remains. The lack of any adventure or excitement however, is new. Typical of this trend is ‘Sweet and Sweet By’, a bar song written primarily on piano with a lilting jazz backing that sounds endearing on first listen but in such weak company is quickly brought out of its depth. ‘Grace / Wastelands’ is so consistently average that its conclusion almost passes by unnoticed.
I’m sure, as true mythology dictates, I’ll continue to wait for the day in which Doherty’s mojo is rekindled. The day he once again emerges bathed in a shroud of the shambolic charm that once made his allure irresistible. ‘Grace / Wastelands’ however, does not signal the turning over of a fresh page in the Books of Albion, just a hollow reminder of what might have been.
5/10
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