"Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination," noted Oscar Wilde. Whether he's commandeering a media circus, fleeing the scene of dubious death, writing out IOU's to his supermodel girlfriend, lying in ambush for his former bandmates or chucking his guts up in fusty East London alleyways, Pete Doherty is not someone who lives within his means. The imagination part, however, is not so clear.
On last year's 'Down In Albion', Doherty proved that he had yet to settle the feud between his Fitzrovian fantasy world, and the very real reality in which he assaults former friends, lets down fans and spends days in jail when he should instead be in the studio. Save for one or two semi-decent tunes, the album lacked the Libertines' urchin gusto, offering instead a half-hearted sonic rendering of fracture, decay and paranoia. Whilst no more accessible than 'Down In Albion', 'The Blinding' EP is infinitely more optimistic.
On the scratchy title track, Doherty caterwauls "On with, on with, on with the show". It's an innocuous call to arms, though it's difficult to fathom whether these words are coming from a man slowly getting over his previous troubles or one who's, conversely, attempting to raise the bar of reckless abandon even higher. The harmonica-driven 'Beg, Steel or Borrow' hints at the former; putting demons to rest by way of placidity, but it's on 'Love You But You're Green' - the strongest track on the five-song set - that fully plays on themes of unconditional hope.
A witty reminisce of young love, Doherty delivers his pining to the past like a dissipated Ray Davies painting an endearing picture of rain-splashed Sunday morning optimism. It's a rare moment of beautiful clarity, but it doesn't last long. Although not as messy as the moment of madness that was 'Pentonville', in which Doherty got a former inmate friend to pen a piece of reggae-lite, the airy skank of 'I Wish' is a careless addition to the release, meandering between throwaway lovers rock and the dregs of former producer Mick Jones' Two-Tone collection.
'Closer, Sedative', is perhaps the tune for which the EP will be remembered. It's quiet-loud by numbers and practically carries the ‘written for stage' tag around its shoutalong chorus that tips its hat to the simple pleasures of getting wasted and falling into the sweet folds of oblivion. It's good, but not that good.
Whether you consider Doherty a bohemian lord in waiting or a smack-fuelled layabout, you'll find evidence to support your theory. Much like its maker, the EP stumbles from peak to trough, testing the listener's patience while retaining its eccentric charm. Although Doherty is clearly a long way off hitting his potential - both music wise and in finding new things to say - 'The Blinding; sees half-formed ideas turned into whole ones, and the grating petulance of old has been replaced with a newfound focus.
Indeed, this time around the white noise of notoriety is slowly starting to splutter into an unexpected picture of brilliant colour.
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