Babyshambles - Down In Albion

Everyone is familiar with the much documented history that accompanies the Babyshambles fable; the twists, the headlines, the broken promises, the gigs that never materialised - so why do we still bother? Why do we strain to crane our neck over the central reservation to see the carnage in the oncoming lane? Is it because we want to make sure all is well and witness someone rising from the ashes unscathed? Or because we want to see that someone really isn’t? It’s this fact which seems to divide the Babyshambles audience.

Slurred warbling and Patrick Walden’s scale guitaring sound like someone warming up during opener ‘La Belle Et La Bête’ and unembellished drumming leaves the sum sounding half finished - while the talk of drugs seems a little misplaced in light of all the recent column inches Pete’s life has garnered from the same subject.

‘Fuck Forever’ reverberates awkwardly in a way that the single version managed to avoid, before picking up with more force that draws in the listener, though again the half hearted delivery of jaded vocals fail to provide the killer touch that ‘Down In Albion’ craves for. Seemingly produced to give it an authentic ‘live’ feel, ‘Pipedown’ is too raw to be endearing trailing off long before it ends, sounding too much like a pastiche of a Babyshambles song.

It doesn’t all fall at the first fence though - there’s an almost early 80s feel of The Jam as ‘A’rebours’ fizzes along nicely, and while it may contain generic reggae vocals, the downplayed tale of life inside prison ‘Pentonville’ catches the attention and provides a fine release from the formulaic scuzzy output. With a more slowed down affair ‘What Katy Did Next’ has a more upbeat tale of pining love. It’s tantalising in places, having a more complete feeling to it than the frantic drives of other tracks.

Holding on to the semblance of the session recordings that won so many over to the Babyshambles camp originally, ‘Albion’ falters yet again as the vocals strive to scupper the work that is being put in behind them. Taking a touching tune and removing the belief from it; like the friend who tells you what they think you want to hear but you can never quite trust, not that that will ever stop them.

Turning what in many cases were intimate poetic insights in bare form into the mumblings of a man who seems to be beyond critiscm in many eyes, it’s disappointing that it’s Pete who lets his creation down. Depending on where you sit on the Doherty fence he should either be poet laureate or he should be put out to pasture; it’s a fine line between genius and madman. A very fine line.