Thursday, March 24, 2005

Workin' For The Industry

Excellent Yeti Live Session on BBC Collective

Finally, Something Musical To Report On:

BABYSHAMBLES have headed into the studio in WALES to start work on their debut album. Pete Doherty and the band left London on Sunday (March 20) to move into the Twin Peaks studio in the Brecon Beacons. The star is cutting himself off from the outside world in the remote studio previously used by Manic Street Preachers and Catatonia. A source close to the band told NME.COM, "They've only been in there a day."

Babyshambles are working on the record with The Clash's Mick Jones and producer Bill Price, known for his work with The Clash, Sex Pistols and on the last Libertines album. Doherty was given permission to go to Wales after re-arranging his strict bail conditions in relation to charges of alleged blackmail and robbery. The band are expected to be in the studio until Doherty must return to Snaresbrook Crown Court on April 18 to enter his plea. Babyshambles' debut album is expected to be released this summer.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Where Pete's Policemen Walk The Beat

Pete on the right side of the law for once:

'TROUBLED rocker Pete Doherty treats cops to an impromptu midnight show as they call to check he is observing his 10pm curfew. Pete, 26, popped out of his flat clutching a guitar and began playing for the surprised officers, who burst out laughing. The star, who is battling a drug problem, has to be in by ten under bail conditions for a robbery charge. His model lover Kate Moss, 31, was in the East London flat at the time. A source said: "The police arrived at 12. Pete, as ever, was a bundle of fun. He played them a couple of Babyshambles songs. "The officers thought it was hilarious. He went on serenading Kate late into the night."'

(thanks Marta for the link)

Check out this hot new fansite

In other news, Pete's hotmail account has reportedly been broken into and shut down. So you'll just have to find somewhere else to send your love letters and adolescent poetry. Just kidding... Maybe.

Keep your eye on this page for great downloads (thanks style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Jimmy)

More NME News:

Doherty is set to feature on the new Wolfman & The Side Effects single--fighting. 'Ice Cream Guerrilla' is due for release on April 25 and will feature the song 'Wolfman' --a live Babyshambles favourite--on the B-side. A source close to the band has revealed that the recording will also include the sound of a scuffle breaking out between Doherty and Wolfman.

He said: "Wolfman wrote the track and has been playing it live for the last 2 years. The lyrics used to go: "Wolfman you give me the hump man, you come in like a swamp man, I jump when you say jump man". "The day the track was recorded the lyrics were changed to: "Wolfman you used to be my friend man, you really are the end man, you're fucking up again man."

"When Pete heard the new lyrics and realised they were about him--the fight broke out."

Thursday, March 10, 2005

The Man Who Would Give Ring?

Pete and Kate Engaged?
KATE MOSS is back with troubled lover PETE DOHERTY--and sporting a ring on her engagement finger. Kate showed off the band for all to see and sparked rumours that junkie rocker Pete has popped the question.

Guardian Article On Pete's Poetry

Pete Doherty makes a surprise appearance this weekend: using his own blood to create a painting for the cover of a free literary magazine. Currently observing a strict curfew as part of bail conditions for an alleged robbery, the unpredictable former lead singer of the Libertines has donated the striking image, along with a poem and a short piece of writing, to Full Moon Empty Sports Bag. It marks a prolific week for the 25-year-old, who has also read poetry on BBC radio, performed at the 100 Club in Oxford Street, London, with his new band Babyshambles and shaved off his hair. A regular contributor to Full Moon, one of a new generation of intelligent urban magazines springing from east London's literary scene, Doherty also suggested the theme of the latest issue: the self-destructiveness of fame.

(thanks to Graham for the link)

Here are those poems, as found on the .Org Forum:


Waking up alive in London beaches of muddy iron filings
Bubbled under
Puddles of rain
Soaped wet water
Fitzrovia splashes in the dips
Of her curbs as I slip a folded fifty
In to a clammy glove
And skip
Off the pavement by the
'Kebabish City'
lick lick fry chick chat
does fixing up rot your teeth?
What about mine
In the sweet by and by my crooked smile
from one too many sad goodbyes no longer says hello
(the west end is piles of rusting pedals and blank metal stares)

Nearly all of a sudden

Almost all nearly all

'I've already put that down.' This last line repeated by muffled red Sally who takes the typist's chair and with that very same thing as that view of which wrote a letter that made me feel the opposite of better some years ago when I first met her. I say "up the morning".

The days are dripping with blood and hungry without hunger. What meagre meals I do scoff are peppered with bullet holes and garnished with Christ-knows-what. Oh you my book, so new take me deep inside you, deep into your trusted heart and hear me scream and speak sorrow for it is all I can do to hold the pen to the page... the day staggers in to the shabby hotel room, breathless and dripping with blood aright. Start again. Dripping in blood are the days changing in to evening wear and so London is a night time pipeline red alert and dead dirt in the sticky spoon bubbles up a sweet ancient perfume steamed form the spoon and as the stopper props up the droper the drop the shot, that will pop rock a'flame and rolling bones in a sharp dressed ghost's freefall through the peaceful minutes at the beginning of the night.

Moments that break a young man's heart.

Number one: somehow I would never play for QPR and therefore never score QPR's winning goal in the FA Cup Final (a brick wall is my closest companion, friend, the only witness to me clenching a season of domestic and European silverware maybe wegerte style) beat 14 men and then running rings round 11 men and then lets see in off the bar so it somehow wedges in the angled netting of the top left hand corner of the onion bag 'from the moment it left his foot'

And now we return to the olivelli hotel, store street, wcl. It's of course, upon this page I mean to say I write is the place I might still be honest with you whoever who are if indeed anyone is reading this. Hello? 'op yurs yiz borstaye 'rare' my throat dry like gaffa tape a gaping bracket like a hole in the road that trucks pull up and dump loads of food, fags and iced tea in to every couple of minutes. These days I have axed the smoking middle man and spike right from the bloody heart of things flooding up the hole in my soul that someone seems to be on the latch by way of that 20 second catch (the need to fill the hole comes from the hole……that comes from knowing that there is a need to fill a hole that...)

Whether a poem be 'true' (as true as a poet be true) or a poem be 'good' (as good is critically understood) is down to the poet’s concern for that which he craved in to wood and the words that he wrote with the red of his blood.

deeper than bloody hell. Open like the (blotch of me veins scotch). Oh the obscenity of the sea though I pursue innocently the city’s whims teeth cleansed for the first time in weeks must get my act together the pair of us my sweet? My tongue flavoured gossips of the scaggy raggy jagged underworld we inhabit. My oh my all living dead like we wander the wards of my oh my.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

It's Just His 19th Nervous Breakdown

Another Pete breakdown in Stoke

"Just got back from this afternoons gig in Stoke. What a fucking disgrace, im suprised nobody's posted anything. Pete was fucked, spent almost the entire sat (all 5 or 6 songs) sat on the floor next to the drummer. Seemed to forget words to songs and just wasnt with it at all. Band tried to sort him out but to no avail, I felt sorry for Pat and Drew. I thought he was sorting himself out?, the final nail in the coffin for me im affraid, that is the last babyshambles gig i am off to. The worst thing was, most of the crowd seemed to really enjoy it and were still shouting 'we love you Pete' after he had fucked off. Pathetic"

Guardian piece on playing more than one show in a day

But then the twice-in-one-night performance plays the same part in rock'n'roll as it does in the kiss-and-tell. In the music industry, just like in the tabloids, it goes without saying that more is always more, never less. And, of course, if two times is good and three times is great, four times is even better.

This, absurdly, is what Pete Doherty's Babyshambles somehow managed on New Year's Eve with shows in Birmingham, Stoke, Oldham and Manchester. This is the band who've caused at least one riot by their inability to get it together enough to play even once, and yet they pulled it off. What better way to show you're not the flake-out that everybody thought than by bombing up and down the motorway in the middle of the night? Unless by pulling a supermodel with a unduly literal take on what "dangerous" means, (it's supposed to be a teen magazine's euphemism for messy hair and "flashing" eyes rather than a mundane medical diagnosis). But I digress.

MP3 of Pete on Radio 4's "Bespoken Word"