Wednesday, 28 February 2007
Please go here to register against The Gov making small venues pay to provide live music/performance. This would be disasterous for Babyshambles and many other bands like them who feel its vital to keep gigs intimate for the fans.
Do it now shamblers, protest against yet more Gov. greed!
Monday, 26 February 2007
the fools rejoyce and the witches yell and shout,
a crowd of hopeless men is following the tears
the curtain falls, the night is drawning near.
It feels the horses coming down galloping too much fast
without a jockey or a lonely knight,
dancing soflty in the feeble light of wicked nights
streets and walls, roads and houses fall.
Papermoon, papermoon papermoon is gold and shine
papermoon, where are you hanging around?
papermoon is my own hiding place.
On a sudden as a multitude in the sky
it climbs down, falling hard and proud,
it's a perfect tide of waves without a noise
makes you feel small, feel sad but safe.
Papermoon, papermoon, papermoon is blue and wild
papermoon, don't leave me now
papermoon please don't try to cheat me.
Landing place of all the sins made and claimed
eye of lust, hold the trust as well.
Papermoon, on your own, papermoon, where are you gone?
I can't see anymore your shade
Papermoon, here's your son, papermoon, I'm alone
finally can't you see my shape?
Papermoon, on the run, papermoon, out of sight
I will drown myself into your wine
Papermoon, here's your son, papermoon, out of bounds
tell me where it was I lost my faith.
Papermoon, oh papermoon
papermoon, purple moon
my own curse
my own curse
Wednesday, 21 February 2007
A daily dispatch from Allan Jones.
Post details: 'There's a four mile queue outside the disused power station. . .'
'There's a four mile queue outside the disused power station. . .'
Someone’s put up large printed signs all down Stockwell Road and around Brixton Academy, large black letters on a bright orange background, their authorship unknown but their message starkly clear.
“DON’T,” they thunder gravely, “END UP LIKE PETE THE JUNKIE”.
They are referring to Pete Doherty, in case you were wondering, and you can only give due consideration to what they have to say. Who, after all, would want to end up like Pete?
I mean, he’s young, witty, good-looking, easily adored, a great songwriter, has recently signed a new record deal, loves to get high, is engaged to one of the world’s most beautiful women, gets whisked hither and yon on exotic holidays (from which he is occasionally obliged to return somewhat earlier than intended) and tonight – Sunday - he’s playing a sell-out Shockwaves NME Awards Show at the Academy, where a seething audience is in excited attendance.
Yes, there are spells in rehab to contend with, which can’t be much fun, regular court appearances and the still-lingering threat of a custodial sentence – but on the whole, you’d have to say there are worse ways to go.
Anyway, the last time I saw Babyshambles here, they were promoting Down In Albion, which hadn’t come out on schedule and whose release anyway was then wholly overshadowed by the Kate Moss Drug Scandal, an unfortunate distraction with much woeful fall-out.
The Academy was far from full that night, plenty of room for tumbleweed to do its thing among the draughty spaces at the back of the hall. The show was sensational, though – with guitarist Patrick Walden, now long gone, an absolute revelation, a cross in his way between Jimi Hendrix and Keith Richards, a phenomenal presence.
Tonight, the place is as packed as I’ve ever seen it, the crowd a raucous thing that fair erupts when Pete appears, looking quite spiffing in a rakish trilby and tightly-buttoned black suit, out of which he fleetingly looks like he might burst out of and into an unwelcome version of the ghastly Alexei Sayle novelty song, “Ullo John! Gotta New Motor?”
Instead, the show starts with a slightly misfiring “Pipedown”- Pat’s replacement, former roadie Mick Whitnall barely audible when he should be whipping up a firestorm. They hit their stride, though, with “Baddies Boogie”, which provokes a crowd surge that alarms the Academy security enough to stop the show, the band leaving the stage while a few bodies are removed from the mosh-pit and the crowd encouraged to move back, a pretty sensible suggestion from the point of view of anyone being crushed against the front-of-stage crash barriers, or whatever it is they’ve got down there.
Pete repeats the same message when he comes back on for a full-blooded “Beg, Steal Or Borrow” and “The Blinding” and “Sedative”, which grows out of broody beginnings into a glorious mass singalong, one of many, the audience keen to join in whenever they can, which they do with particular gusto on the old Libertines favourite “Time For Heroes”.
Their only restive moments are probably on the songs from the unreleased but widely available Bumfest sessions, including “Unstookietitled” and “Unbilotitled”. “Killimangiro”, though, has the crowd sounding like something you might hear at a Cup Final. Kate Moss makes a fantastic two-part cameo during “La Belle Et Le Bete”, and her wiggling exits are among the evening’s undisputed highlights and the cause of much hearty cheering.
Pete’s early dapperness is a thing of the recent past, reduced now to a state of merry dishevelment, matched by a rough but lovely duet with Wolfman on what’s announced as the first-ever live airing of “For Lovers” and a raucously poptastic “I Wish”, after which the band promptly split.
The audience is by now is such a condition of euphoria they would probably have performed the encores entirely by themselves, but are joined anyway by a returning Babyshambles for “Albion”, “Back From The Dead” and “Fuck Forever”, which even deprived of Pat Walden’s original epic guitar intro is still a lusty anthem, the kind of thing the eventually departing crowd will sing long into the night on their various journeys to wherever they call home.
Outside, I am even more pleased to note that the finger-wagging placards I mentioned earlier are being torn down and ripped up by delirious fans, joyously refusing to toe the line, and letting the world know what they really think of the notorious Pete and how he looks currently ended up, which looks to me to be nearly the top of the world.
Just because it’s always worth watching, meanwhile, here’s a quick link to Babyshambles’ fantastic performance of “Albion” at last year’s NME Awards, the night’s high spot in fact.
Tuesday, 20 February 2007
What an ace night, best ive seen the shambles by far.
I thought the setlist was:
beg steal borrow
carry on up the morning
la belle et la bete
time for heroes
what katie did
back from the dead
side of the road
twas absolutely magnificent. started with best post pat version of pipe
ive heard and moved onto the ever growing baddies boogie. time flew by
some songs from the blinding ep, and later la belle et la bete avec
Moss roared out. the higlight of the night for me was delivery, that
into time for heroes and the crowd went wild. fuck forever was amazing
after a long wait for the encore back from the dead bounded out and
the shambles finished with the little known side of the road. my mark =
*gives thumbs up*
Monday, 19 February 2007
didn't make sense tonight. The words "Don''t End Up Like Pete The
gave out a confusing message. If tonight's show is what a 'junkie' can
achieve, well...it seems Judge McIvor has known what has been possible
the sign posters had better take a second look at what Pete is doing
days.Peter Doherty was in total control of his voice and his guitar
as he lead the band and his two guest singers, Kate Moss and Wolfnman,
some spectacular highlights that punctuated the evening
The gig was sold out, even with the balcony open. Touts were buying
tickets for £25 and selling them for £35. The merchandise stall saw a
business, particularly for the new "Ficeck Forever" t-shirt that sold
more than freinds and family. The bar was busy while Little Man Tate
their best, but the crowd didn't care. They'd come to see the Shambles.
Pete swirled on stage with a bottle of beer and doused the first
the most pit with its contents. Straight into "Pipedown", a pared down
perfunctuary minimalistic version - partly because Mik's guitar did not
appear to be plugged into the amplifier. A QPR flag appeared on stage
issued the only boos of the night as Pete brandished it with pride.
Pete strapped up for a magnficent version of "Baddies Boogie"
to be stopped by the security because of the power of the moshpit. The
was ushered off stage and returned shortly to finish the song before
into a rocking "Beg Steal or Borrow" which has grown in electric
from its acoustic beginnings. Pete's guitar playing was adventurous and
confident, filled with atttude and heart.
Pete kept the guitar for "The Blinding" and "Unstookietitled", but
it aside for the drama of "Sedative" which saw him at the front of the
drenched in diffused light and wisps of smoke from his only cigarette
Adam and Drew were tight and even Mik's often reticient guitar
place in the spotlight. The show's most grand and eloquent moments were
"Killimangiro" which expanded to fill the Academy and the hearts of the
who sing every word as they have done for years. Gone was Pete's cry
believe in love" and instead his silence and the energy of the band
the sonic room.
It was followed by "Side of the Road" and "You Talk" before Kate
the crowd in "La Belle et Le Bete" with her deadpan vocal and her crazy
girls-just-want-to-have-fun squiggle off the stage. "The Delivery"
despite a few sour notes and "Time for Heroes" was greeted with raised
and fists punching the air.
"Unbilotitled" was followed by a thank you from Pete to "Ms. Moss"
before introducing Wolfman who joied him to sing what is called the
live peformance of "For Lovers". It worked really well and seemed
touchingly appropriate in this night of unions and reunions.
A poppy "I Wish" closed the set and gave the crowd a new chorus to
while waiting for an encore which was "Albion", "Back from the Dead",
There were many new fans tonight. They didn't know the words to
"Bumfest" songs and demanded those they were familiar with. There was
"Pete, Pete, Pete". No hats, letters or pieces of jewellery were thrown
to the stage. No fans lighting his cigarette from the foot of the
Pete didn't stage dive. Patrick didn't spark out splintered
was a different night. As good as the old ones. I hope to see many
nights like this.
Sunday, 18 February 2007
And that was the last I saw of her.
Until that is... Pete walked on stage carrying her lovingly in his arms.
Wowwwwww She’d done it. She’d finally realised her dream and hit the big time.
Her last minute audition on the tour bus must have ticked all the right boxes and been a huge success.
I Can’t believe my eyes – one minute she’s sitting on a shelf at home practising her song, and a couple of hours later she’s
On stage with her Hero – Pete Doherty - as his bloody backing singer.
At one point she even shared the mike (mice) with Pete – duetting with him.
Tears of pride welled up in my eyes.
I haven’t heard from her since, and she’s not answering her mobile, so I’m getting a little worried now – because what I thought was a glimpse of a new red polka dot skirt could well have been her little spotted hanky tied up with all her worldly goods. (the kind you tie to a stick and ceremoniously throw over your shoulder in all the old fairytales)
After the show, when leaving my seat -I had to make sure no-one could see my bottom. – not that I sat down that much, but the one time I did - someone chucked a fag end away and it ended up in my seat and set me on fire ! wondered what the sensation was that was getting hotter and hotter.... first I thought it was a slug of warm lager...and then it was hot as coal... owwwcccchhhhhhh. and then I had a glaring big hole in my skirt
After reclaiming my camera from the ‘heavies’ which was snatched from me mid-gig.
I then walked round to the side exit to congratulate her – but there was no sign of her...
I personally thought she’d have headed into the little olde pub next door to wait for me - cos she likes the odd tipple – but
I heard a low whisper in the crowd - that after the show, she’d been offered a modelling contract and someone actually witnessed her being whisked off and stepping into a Black Land Rover Registration GIO ... which was still parked up outside. The windows were blacked out – so I couldn’t see inside. Hmmmmmmm
Looks like her voice and that little Polka Dot number went down a ‘Storm’
YES...... WOW, DOUBLE BLOODY WOW.... The Show was Amazing !
PETE - YOU EXCELLED YOURSELF.
We LOVED EVERY MINUTE OF IT
And a thousand thankyous for taking Lucy into your heart and on to the stage with you.
You really are a Sweetheart with a heart of Gold.
From this day forth – may polka dots fill your eyes – and skies !
Please look after her and try and Keep her off the hard stuff – She’s led a very sheltered life.
The worst she’s ever had is over-ripe gorgonzola
With special Love x x x Lorraine and Daisy
Mestre Pete nasceu no dia 12 de março,
Mas nós nunca saberemos, não, nunca saberemos de
Onde veio todo o seu talento em poesia,
Poesia contemplada sobre as pedras da estrada.
Guerreiro, vocalista, eterno poeta Libertino;
Fez história ao lado de seu amigo Carl Barat...
E hoje canta com seus amigos dos Babyshambles
Os acordes de vida, brilha a poesia de Pete Doherty.
Pete Doherty, uma grande inspiração para mim,
Sim, mestre Pete, obrigado por me dizer que minha hora
Chegou, por mais que eles me dissessem que ela
Nunca chegaria para mim. Pete, eu te amo, sim.
Mas nós nunca vamos saber de onde seu talento veio...
Mas saberemos onde você chegará, em algum lugar
Além da eternidade, onde só a poesia é capaz de levar.
3.Beg, Steal or Borrow
4.Carry On Up The Morning (too cool for words)
10.La Belle Et La Bete (with Kate)
11.Time For Heroes
14.What Katie Did
15.There She Goes (A Little Heartache) -i myself prefer the acoustic vers.-
-At this time downstairs many fled as the lights came on, shambles only came on about 10mins after-
18.Back From The Dead
19.Side Of The Road
Pictures provided by Ian G
Friday, 16 February 2007
Wednesday, 14 February 2007
Monday, 12 February 2007
"Do you have ideas?"
whispered the night
frowned her back
"I see the ancient vessel,
into raptures to the sight of the Arcadia"
said the dream looking her
"You will find your end!"
called the souls from cemetery
DIAMONDS OF THE TIME
Diamond pink, diamond grey
in the end of the door
in the black hole of illusion.
In the heart our colours shatter
Aurora D'Amico 2007
Friday, 9 February 2007
Art for Arkady is a new and rapidly growing exhibitiion space for artists who create community art projects, drawings, paintings, collages, photographs, videos and The Unexpected.
Contributions are needed every month for new exhibitions on the main page and in the Blog Gallery. If you would like to show your work please get in touch - no one will be refused.
There is a new forum - Art for Arkady Artists Group - where comments can be made about the shows and discussions can be held about techniques and skills.
Remember to subscribe to the blog where you can find surprises from time to time.
Art for Arkady hopes you will be inspired by what you see. Have fun and enjoy the views.
Visit it here
Drawing by Greenmind
Wednesday, 7 February 2007
a reality so dire we blacken our insides till we blend in.
I go on distracting myself from misery so I don't get in too deep
but all around I see people not just lying to themselves but never asking questions
it sickens me to see so many consuming without creating
I'm growing warped into someone I hardly recognise
all the love in my eyes turned to hate and despise
spirits rest uneasily inside my head
the spirits of questions left unanswered
destined for my dreams or doomed to fail
this question ways heavily upon my mind
constantly growing till I topple and fall
but with time and buckets of wine I re-find my feet, my faith and friends
though still a fool to many blind eye
those few who can truly see, those I respect, they like me
with the fire of life inside
so many dark secrets, through this their beauty still shines
their dark matter simply casts light in different pattens,
never to stop life for it burns too brightly inside
but there are still days like today the world seems so lifeless,
wondering alone again till we find those of like mind
Josh Slade 2007
Monday, 5 February 2007
Swiss army knife out for a walk
tonight looking for fresh
flesh craving for warm running
blood step by step on scissor
legs making its way to a willing
victim screaming for gashing
wounds straight down to the
bones broken with an iron
rod lying around suspiciously
staring at the now empty
chair clinging on to an open
window to despair
Sunday, 4 February 2007
Waiting on its rays to rain down on me
Sadly it never comes out to play
And I’m left sitting here alone
Still I will wait and contemplate
Looking out my window from this house
I call my home at the people in a rush
Have they found something I haven’t seen?
The only time I’m happy is in my dreams
When you are there; then I awake
To a world that doesn’t care
Care about life, Care about love
A world that in times of strife
Always has to look above
To a god that does not exist
And always persists on using there names
To force their views and claims
I don’t believe in anyone!
So please let me follow the sun
It must come out someday to shine
And until it does I will wait
Using this time that is mine
Thursday, 1 February 2007
Just Around The Corner From The Queens
Riding through tunnels
interwoven like veins,
underground, he came
to soak up the city.
to revel in its glorious filth,
until dusk trades for dawn
and all of its brutal revelations.
in last nights suit, he stands
nursing his anti-climax.
dust porcelain white skin,
translucent in places,
sunken eyes the past has painted
on shadows of purple black
and bluey-grey’s, with an artists eye.
ruby lips that kissed too long,
bitten, bruised, and swollen.
whispery whites of spiralling breath.
steel silvers and oil-spill rainbows,
leaf clogged gutters yellows and green,
and there he stood beneath nature,
as wrong in the picture as the tree, itself.
the faint almost-there grey
smoke, curling from your lip;
eyes: vacant, elsewhere.
the stench of the Thames,
the early morning air
knotting his stomach,
chilling his throat.
gazing down absently,
toe of his shoe
scuffing empty cigarette packets…
the hiss of a bus
spewing diesel toxicity,
halting, doors flung open,
offering a way out.
faces spill off
each ignoring the next.
taking with them
umbrellas and briefcases,
except his vacancy.
expressions: fixed and keen,
sedated and souless,
around his bubble,
Monday morning, in London.