The State of the Situation

Bow tied and all dressed in white, C.W. Stoneking enters to rapturous applause. He is clearly well loved by those that know him, and by the end of tonights show pretty much everyone that didn’t will concur. Stoneking plays the blues. Not with a Fender and a distortion pedal, but with a banjo or steel body six string. Backed by a four piece band of brass, stand up bass and percussion, he pays homage to the blues of 1920’s and 30’s, engaging the audience with his offbeat storytelling and quite marvellous voice that is pained, yet defiantly contented. Mumbling, rasping, crooning and serenading his way through his set, Stoneking imitates without at any time slipping into pastiche or parody, telling stories of his travels through the south of the United States, country Victoria, the Caribbean and Africa, all the while with tongue firmly in cheek. Speaking in the hokum language of euphemisms and innuendo, Stoneking never says exactly what he means, and the audience is never quite sure how much liberty he is taking with the truth. It is a very difficult balance that he strikes, and it is highly rewarding that he pulls it off so effortlessly. While remaining accessible to the average blues fan, Stoneking undoubtedly has the purists drooling. A fantastic nights entertainment. +++

Strolling across the green without a care, falling in a lake, and drowning without waving. The sound Steven Street has built around Peter Doherty is derivative at best and patronising at worst. While Doherty’s poetic vision and unique narrative voice are as intriguing as ever, they continue to prove elusive to pin down in the produced and recorded form, as this and the previous Parlophone offering, “Shotter’s Nation,” resoundingly attest to.

On Grace/Wastelands we find Doherty intermittently as lyrically dextrous as ever (“can charm the bees knees off the bees”), but at times infuriatingly lazy considering the talent he has at his disposal (That’s the price of being free these days, it’s ridiculous”). Doherty’s lyrical aesthetic remains almost unchanged in intent, but is generally in an anaemic and uninspired condition. “Grace...” displays a stark lack of the urgency and, failing that, spontaneity, that characterised Doherty’s previous (unreleased) solo recordings, and thus measures very poorly in comparison. The changeup in “I am the Rain” briefly gets the heart rate above 50bpm, but the pseudo flamenco refrain quickly becomes tiresome. That being said, Doherty’s narration is tender, and near the album's peak on this track.

The smokey, piano bar swagger and trademark Doherty nostalgia of the “Sweet By and By” is a disappointing genre caricature, and essentially sums up the overarching laziness inherent in most of these compositions. This is “Can’t Stand Me Now” for housewives not hedonists. The question of whether he is singing about Kate Moss or Carl Barat quickly becomes irrelevant. “Broken Love Song” recalls The Coral asleep in the bath. I mention them as compositions here because the weakness generally lay not in the material; Doherty has not changed his stripes so to speak. The aural aesthetic that emanates from the studio is invasive and derivative, especially if you bother to hold them in relief against Doherty in raw form. A similar criticism is equally poignant in the case of “Palace of Bone” (This may have been apt as a title track). The longing, opiated dreamscape of "Lady Don't You Fall Backwards" is alluring but comes too late and is really covering old ground.

It has to be questioned whether or not “Peter” Doherty is being drawn in, consumed, and mediocratised by the very system he (perhaps unwittingly) became a symbol against. Despite Street’s best efforts, the strengths of this album still lie in the rich veins of creativity Doherty tapped in his time with the Libertines ("New Love Grows on Trees", "A Little Death Around the Eyes", and “Through the Looking Glass,” which unbelievably and quite infuriatingly didn’t make the final cut for the album, especially considering the tracks that did). Whether or not he ever returns to that space, or surpasses it, will be the subject of panicked speculation by many long time fans (myself included).

“When the cat gut binds your ankle to the bedstead...that ain’t love.” Doherty needs to give his own wisdom some serious consideration. This album sounds like it has been made by and for marketing executives to take to their mother’s dinner parties. A second consecutive attempt to make Doherty palatable to the doubters, and hopefully sell a few albums for once. I despair. Hopefully now he has fulfilled his obligations to Parlophone, “Peter” Doherty can stop growing up.

A sense of nostalgia for The Libertines is ever-present and inescapable in any assessment of Doherty’s every move since the split, but my conundrum is this; It’s 2009. The Libertines have been and gone. Blur and Oasis are still considered the best bands in Britain. Forget politics. This is the real end of history. +++