BABYSHAMBLES

SEQUEL TO THE PREQUEL (EMI)

8/20

Ok, so once we’ve all recovered from the collective embarrassment of the noughties winklepicker-indie hangover, Up The Bracket might well be acknowledged as one of best British albums of that decade. But due to Doherty’s painful and very public descent, his style of doe-eyed romanticism and faux-Dickensian posturing has become a cringe-inducing prospect. We’ve ended up with a generation of twenty- somethings haunted by memories of e-mail addresses like biloforever87@msn.com and constantly refreshing the libertines.org homepage in the hope that our Pete might invite everyone to an impromptu gig in a squat littered with taxidermy, dog- eared Graham Greene novels and hypodermic needles. So who in their right mind listens to a new Babyshambles album in 2013? The record’s title is a stinker, and Damien Hirst’s woeful cover art suggests there’s more than one expired UK icon involved. But for ex-fanboys/girls, it’s worth a blast just for old time’s sake. There’s a naïve charm to Doherty’s enthusiasm on Maybelline, and the band do a cute job of playing around with The Velvet Underground’s Sweet Jane riff on Farmer’s Daughter. But once you’ve hit the unlistenable title track, followed by the cod-ska misfire Dr No, it’s hard not to be plagued by this record’s innate daftness.

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Words: David Reed