The air crackled with a chaotic energy – drinks airborne, bodies surging, a swirling mass of crowd surfers. It felt less like a Sunday night in Brixton and more like a lost gig from the 1990s, a raw, untamed explosion of sound and movement. Fans had come to worship at the altar of Babyshambles, their devotion radiating outwards.
I entered the venue a relative stranger, my only previous encounter with Pete Doherty being a fleeting glimpse at the Reading Festival in 2015 with The Libertines. Babyshambles had always been a musical enigma, born from the fallout of Doherty’s departure from his previous band in 2003. Years passed, and their music remained largely unexplored during my formative listening years.
The opportunity to experience Babyshambles anew felt like a rare gift, a chance to truly connect. Yet, despite the fervent anticipation, I found myself strangely unmoved. The hype surrounding their return hadn’t translated into a personal resonance.
Doherty himself presented a surprisingly calm demeanor, a stark contrast to the rockstar reputation that preceded him. He sang with a detached focus, as if performing to an empty room rather than a sea of eager faces. Initially, I even worried about a sparse turnout, noticing empty seats in the circle until moments before they took the stage.
The crowd quickly swelled as Babyshambles launched into a relentless set, delivering tracks like “Delivery,” “I Wish,” and “Back From The Dead.” The floor pulsed with energy, while the balcony remained more reserved, reinforcing my sense of being an observer rather than a participant.
Musically, the band was undeniably sharp, Doherty’s vocals retaining their strength after decades in the spotlight. “Albion” proved a highlight, with Doherty playfully reciting a litany of UK locations, culminating in a roar of approval when he mentioned Brixton. However, the new song “Dandy Hooligan” felt jarringly out of place, a repetitive ska-reggae track that disrupted the flow.
What truly struck me was Doherty’s distance. He barely addressed the audience, a surprising contrast to the charismatic frontman I’d expected. He danced barefoot for one song, waved a cane during others, hinting at a playful energy held in check. But these moments were fleeting.
It wasn’t aloofness, but rather a quiet nervousness, a shyness that kept him from fully engaging with the crowd. He spoke at length only during the final songs, offering a touching tribute to late guitarist Patrick Walden and a rambling anecdote about dog walking. The charisma was there, locked away, tantalizingly out of reach.
This distance kept me at arm’s length, preventing me from understanding the deep connection fans felt with Babyshambles. While a comedian he wasn’t, the lack of introduction or interaction blurred the songs together, making it difficult to truly grasp their individual impact.
Perhaps this is the privilege of a legacy built over years of notoriety. Pete Doherty won’t disappear if he doesn’t win over new fans, though their new music might struggle to gain traction in the streaming era. But for a figure shrouded in myth, he left me wanting more – and perhaps, that’s precisely the point.
This reunion tour is a triumph for those already devoted, a chance to relive cherished memories. But for newcomers, don’t expect a sudden conversion. Babyshambles remains a band best experienced through the eyes of a long-time believer.
