Pete Doherty: sex , trouble , rock 'n' roll

Interview, August, 2005 by Ingrid Sischy

People like Pete Doherty are the reason why generation gaps exist. Having emerged three years ago as the front man for the London-based rock band the Libertines, which he led with his friend Carl Barat, Doherty quickly became the most visible face for a group of British musicians who were raging against the success of easy-listening soft-rock bands like Coldplay, striving to make music that spoke more directly, more urgently, and more viscerally to kids sick of bopping to "Yellow" alongside their parents. Perhaps it was his unbridled energy, his adventures in pharmacology, or simply the hesitant beauty of his songwriting--which borrows as much from the pop melodies of the Beatles as it does from the ragged verve of the Clash--but those kids selected Doherty, as other kids in other times selected Robert Johnson and Jim Morrison and Sid Vicious and Kurt Cobain and even Arthur Rimbaud before them, to be their great liberator.

Until very recently, Doherty had been doing all of this in relative obscurity--or at least in as much obscurity as someone who has done jail time for breaking into his bandmate's flat, spouted publicly about his drug use, sparked riots with his missed gigs, and walks to the convenience store with Kate Moss at his side can do anything without getting noticed. In a culture of manufactured rock stars and groomed public faces, his untamed heart is certainly touching all the right nerves. But whether he becomes the classic songwriter that his talent would suggest or goes on to fulfill all the unfortunate cliches that seem equally within his grasp remains to be seen. At least for now, Pete Doherty is riding the fine line between the two as hard as anyone can. As he and his new band, Babyshambles, put the finishing touches on their highly anticipated new album, the group's 26-year-old singer and principle songwriter is ready to put himself--and the myth-in-the-making that surrounds him--to the test.

INGRID SISCHY: True rock 'n' roll fans say you are one of the few of the new generation to be holding up the authenticity of the music. They say when they heard you they knew rock 'n' roll was as alive and as exciting as ever, No need for nostalgia.

PETE DOHERTY: Who said that? My manager?

IS: [laughs] Of course he would. But no, I'm talking about people who have nothing to gain if you win or lose, and I'm also talking about other musicians.

PD: I don't believe in how other people view these things. Whether it's complimentary or even full-on proper. Do you wanna know if I believe the hype?

IS: Not the hype, but do you still believe in rock 'n' roll?

PD: Well, I believe it exists.

IS: And when did you first know it existed? When was the first time that you heard rock 'n' roll and you thought, Hey, this is something?

PD: Hmm. I'll try and get an honest answer to you ... I could contrive something, but I suppose ... I dunno, like, Donovan? When there's a song, and it makes you want to sing along. That's what you're talking about, isn't it? You're talking about that magic feeling.

IS: I am.

PD: It's just a feeling. You want to dance. You want to sing. Yeah, that feeling, of course, is beyond recollection really.

IS: And when was the first time that you per formed in public? How old were you?

PD: I was probably about 15. I did a song called "Billy the Hamster" in a school assembly.

IS: "Billy the Hamster"?

PD: It's a good song. Do you wanna hear it?

IS: Yeah, I'd love to hear it.

PD: Okay ... [begins strumming guitar, singing] "When I was 8, checked on my Dad/On and on and on and on/Well I was driving him mad/He said, No, no, you ain't havin' no pets/Oh my boy, [harmonica comes in] You just ain't old enough yet/ Woo-hoo/When I was 9, a little bit older/My birthday and dad tapped me on the shoulder/Well you can imagine my surprise/A little rodent/I call him Billy, Billy Hamster/Well me 'n Billy, we were the best of friends/I thought, the fun would never end/But then, one day/One day Billy died ... Cryyyyyy.... And I cried." [more harmonica]

IS: Awww.

PD: He got electrocuted in the song--

IS: That's heartbreaking. Tell me about the difference between performing in Britain and America?

PD: Well, there's a difference performing in Philadelphia to New York, as much as a difference between playing in Luton and playing in San Francisco, y'know what I mean?

IS: You're famous for really bringing out the feelings of your audience when you perform.

PD: It's a lyrical endeavor. It's just an event, a kind of molten honesty. Sort of like a volcano.

IS: The thing that struck me when I first read about you is your desire to really keep a connection with the audience and break down the distance between performer and audience. Where does that come from?

PD: The same place any desire comes from: the soul. I wouldn't say it was necessarily deliberate in the early days, but there was a point where ya have to ... put the kettle across the pedal, if y'know what I mean. And, I think "Horror Show" was really the first song where I actually thought, What are the people listening to this song gonna think?