I’ve always enjoyed the imaginary past. I get the sense that Pete Doherty does too. The imaginary past being not the no doubt constructed “objective” official-type history but the phony land of yesteryear made up of discarded advertisements, old song lyrics, half-remembered wisps of movie scenes, and invented folklore. Grace/Wastelands is an interesting album given its preoccupations (lyrical and sonic) with the imaginary past while being in large part comprised of pre-existing Doherty songs from the quickly receding (and increasingly romanticized) past of the Libertines’ golden era before the famous split and more famouser flirting with druggy oblivion.
Grace/Wastelands is dripping with signs pointing pastward. The title winks at Elvis while giving a nod to T. S. Eliot. On hand for the record are UK indie royalty Graham Coxon and Stephen Street pointing the way to the great legacy of smart, moody British guitar pop via their associations with Blur and the Smiths (and those bands’ own retro-minded tendencies). The album begins in the pastoral pastiche of “Arcady,” visits the (Jam-referencing?) “Last of the English Roses” before “1939 Returning,” a shuffling number drawing connections between the early days of WWII and the unpleasant present of an old folks home.
Kids knee deep in rubble,
London urchins grey with dust,
Back of fout west in evacuation,
the farmers wives greeting pleasant lies,
far from the doodblebugs.
Nana doll still remembers,
leaving town in worn-out shoes,
Now she’s back out west,
in sheltered accommodation,
Homes for the old,
where pills aren’t the only blues.
Tred carefully,
so carefully,
on the drifting ice
staring blankly into the tv guide,
In 2009,
oh how it hurts me,
I’ve only seen her twice
since she went west for the second time
since 1939.
The present reality of dimming memory and that neglected relatives who possess these members seems much less romantic than the detailed enshrinement of “London urchins grey with dust” and a grandmother’s “worn-out shoes” in childhood.
The past creeps up sound-wise in the jazz-lite cabaret horns-plus-shuffle of “Sweet By and By” and the slinky glam doom of “Broken Love Song” (which passes John, Paul, George, and Ringo headed the other way) and about anywhere where strings and Mellotron sounds swoop in melodramatically dabbing songs with a touch of how one might remember the Beatles sounding if they hadn’t listened to the Fabs in a while.
In a way, Grace/Wastelands is Doherty’s most successful record. With the Libertines his Clash-isms often overpowered the whimsical Albion he was wordily conjuring – not that this was a problem. The Libs’ beat and clang made up for any messiness. At the helm of Babyshambles, Doherty once again saw the mess swallowing his poetry, often enjoyably. At their weakest though, Babyshambles seemed to be tilting at the Doherty/Libertines legend in, I’m assuming, an attempt to score points against tabloid journalists and other haters. Grace/Wastelands is a more controlled affair, daresay professional. Fans of hype and swagger might be put off by how well read and sensible it seems. Despite his very public battle with chemicals, Doherty retained the good sense not to waste these delicate, nostalgic songs just anywhere. They get their due here on this subtle, impeccably recorded album.
Doherty perversely moved forward by looking backwards and backwards again. I wonder if the imaginary Victorian waif Doherty sometimes pretends to be appreciates this Alice in Wonderland logic?
