That was quite a blast!
Pete Doherty is one of those people whose reputation doesn't just precede him, it eclipses any of his talents as a musician, artist or writer. And I'm not trying to say that his notoriety isn't warranted - he'd be the first to tell you that the reality is even wilder than most people even realise - but it's just really easy to get swept up in what the media pretend to "report" on, completely forgetting that celebrities are people too; many of them with as many hopes/fears/petty concerns/regrets/embarrassing moments that make them cringe, as the rest of us.
I think that's why I enjoy biographies as much as I do. It's not the huge, salacious reveals that I'm necessarily interested in, it's the day to day mundanities, interspersed with random and unusual events that fascinate me. Obviously rock stars, actors, actresses and artists tend to have access to more money, attend wild parties, have tumultuous affairs and are able to enjoy many interesting experiences; but their day to day lives are always equally interesting to me. The way that the juxtaposition of public personas and private lives almost show two totally different people, is fascinating to me.
I really wasn't expecting to come away from this book liking Doherty, but he just completely challenged my preconceptions about him before I'd even finished the first chapter. His deeply heartfelt recollections of his family, the places he grew up, and his budding fascination with literature from a very early age, had me immediately set right. Sure, the ensuing tales of two decades worth of explosive personalities rubbing up against one another, creating music, fighting, and falling out, with innumerable cameos from wonderfully strange, beautiful, artistic, random characters in every location from slums & squats, to high end hotels and huge country piles based in the Cotswolds (not to mention a few visits to various rehab facilities and a handful of stays at "Her Majesty's Pleasure") all made for a wild ride of a book. But getting to learn about Doherty's very normal love of antique hunting, collecting military memorabilia, enjoying walks on the beach with his dogs, and having a lifelong love of "Hancock's Half Hour" all helped to round out the very two-dimensional caricature of him that was always portrayed in the media.
Doherty comes across as a loveable rogue at heart, who just made the mistake of staring too deeply into the void for too long, only for the void to then hold him in its death-grip for nearly two decades. His voice leaps off the pages and is a testament to the biographer's determination to have the reader feel as though they were sat in a cosy cafe, listening to this affable chap, look back on his life so far, with a mixture of bittersweet happiness interspersed with a touch of regret. I found him immediately likeable and enjoyed getting to learn a lot more about this Pete Doherty, who had for years been much maligned by the unrelenting press who went to ridiculous lengths (including tapping his phone and those of his family, friends & associates) to get the most incriminating photographs, snapped at the most opportunistic moments; all so they could run salacious stories with wild headlines, any time he left the house.
Now, of course Doherty is no angel - and he'll be the first to admit it. He cops to all the illegal, inappropriate and stupid stuff he got up to. But he's also got a laundry list of stupid stuff that he wasn't responsible for, which also got frequently pinned on him, by some local cops who got way too much pleasure from pulling him over, searching him, arresting him, and running a little book on who could arrest him the most. Don't get me wrong, Doherty has definitely been the architect of his own misfortune, but he's also been hounded out of multiple places, just because his "bad-boy" behaviour marked him out as fair game. You can't help but feel sorry for the guy.
Drugs naturally feature quite prominently in this biography, but Doherty never seems to glorify or glamorize them; quite the opposite in fact. He admits to having romanticized the idea of opiates being something beautiful and a part of the creative lifestyle he read about many of his literary heroes using. But that was before he found his drug use move from recreational dabbling, to crippling dependency and an addiction that took many attempts at recovery before finally getting clean. There's nothing glamorous about finding oneself living alone in a run-down bed-sit, spending all day laying on a filthy mattress on the floor with your only thoughts focused on scoring gear and shooting up. Doherty even speaks about how he tried to dissuade other young naive people from romanticizing smack & crack; not wanting them to wind up like him. But you can't put an old head in young shoulders and many inevitably had to learn their lesson the hard way too. Such is life.
I had my wild years in my late teens and early twenties, wanting to try everything twice. A lot of the chaos and stupid decision making Doherty recalls, did strike a chord with how I lived my own life for a while. When you're young you think you're invincible. You can enjoy slumming it for a few years, hanging about with dodgy characters and having a non-stop stream of strangers coming and going from your flat, with parties that last for as long as the drugs do. Having your home raised by the police is even kinda fun at first until it starts to all come on top. But luckily for me, my drugs of choice were ecstasy and hallucinagenics. Coke and speed were nice little additions, and benzodiazepines for the come-down were really just a way of helping to get to sleep after being up partying and munching "disco-biscuits" for 3 or 4 days at a time. The warm feeling that washed over me after dropping a pill was glorious, but whereas the Reddy-Brek glow that heroin provides, becomes addictive and causes many users to draw into themselves, away from other people, ecstasy is a very social drug and not one that you can really become physiologically dependent upon. I was lucky because I just preferred the drug with far less negative side-effects. But I saw heroin ruin the lives of so many people - many of whom you'd never have expected to get mixed up in such things.
I mention all that because despite never getting hooked on smack, and having been able to just walk away from the party scene unscathed, once I got a bit older, more sensible (and probably a lot more boring, lol) I recognise a lot of the chaotic lifestyle Doherty talks about in this book. Fun is always enticing and being a bit naughty has a certain allure when you're younger and wanting to experience everything life has to offer. But I know that when you choose your poison, you have to understand what you're getting yourself in for. Some of us are seeking bliss, but others are truly courting oblivion - whether consciously/subconsciously and whether they're willing to admit it (to themselves and others) or not. Deep down I know I never wanted to end up a hopeless junkie, with an addiction that I became a slave too. Loving/preferring happy uppers was lucky I guess, but I wasn't cut out for the life of a smack-bandit or crack-head. Those who do choose that path at some level know what's probably in store for them, but they do it anyway. And I think with Doherty, it really was - on some level - a conscious choice to choose that path, court oblivion and invite the devil into his life. I think he almost had to do that, go through everything he did, and come out the other side to truly discover who he is as a man; a father; a husband; a son; a whole person.
Obviously I'm not trying to say that anyone should try to emulate that life themselves. But hearing Pete speak now with a calm persona, a rational outlook, and no longer that wandering maelstrom of chaos, it sounds like he's finally figured out who he is and what he wants to be. Not everyone who gets entangled in a life of drug addiction is lucky enough to come out the other side, and I think Doherty is careful not to simply assume that he's now completely out of the woods. It sounds like he has the love of a very good woman on his side, and he's managed to find a way to access his creativity without the need for substances. He's finally happy with the direction his music is now going, and after reading this book I truly couldn't be happier for the guy. I wish him and his family all the love and luck in the world.
I'm giving this book a strong 4 stars...because he was never going to score 5 after I found out how much he loved Jeremy Corbyn. Bloody socialists and their obsession with the "magic grandpa"...grr! 😉
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