Published: Saturday, 20th March, 2010 11:00am

For Pete's sake

by Reading Rocks Steady

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Pete Doherty
Pic by: ABI TURLEY

PETE Doherty may still look like a sad scarecrow in need of dialysis, but he's also one of the greatest rock stars of the decade and is firmly back in the game after Thursday's utterly fantastic show.

The one-off, sold-out Babyshambles gig at Sub89 was a real coup for Reading. The crowd converged on the town from far and wide - some from as far as Swansea - and they were warmed up by two top-notch support acts.

Out Like A Lion are a Bristol four-piece dressed by TopMan who use clean guitars and deliciously chewy riffs to make lively indie music.

Some say it is lazy to mention haircuts when you should be writing about music - but you don't shave off half your blonde moptop if you don't want your hair to be written about. I'm looking at you, Out Like A Lion drummer.

For good measure, though, he also had a strangely watchable and attractive drumming style and his beats were the sharp, hoppy driving force that framed all Out Like A Lion's tracks. Sporadic use of layered vocals more as an instrumental noise than actual vocals added an interesting depth, too.

Still with the half-shaved moptops, main support Sharks took to the stage. Their sound is more raw, leaning towards Babyshambles with that same undercurrent of disenchanted youth scrawled all over the vocals.

Firm, pounding drumming propelled the band along as the three mobile members pogo-ed around the stage, and everybody else got the urge to drink strong liquor and smoke heavily.

There are generally two camps when it comes to Pete Doherty - one dislikes him, one completely idolises him. Thursday's crowd was predominantly the hero-worshippers in trilbies, who drink lager and flutter false lashes. They all refer to him as 'Pete', and they talk like they know him.

For most it's just a rock and roll front, but for one night at least they can play cool and pretend that reckless abandon and carcrash romances fill the gaps in the cigarette-smoke haze of their lives.

In classic Doherty fashion he was appallingly late (when I arrived at 7.30pm I was told he was on the train…turns out that train was the Eurostar from Paris) but it just wouldn't have been the same if he was on time.

The crowds got beered up and rowdier and rowdier. The suspense was too much for one bloke who ran onto stage, kicked the mic stand over and then melted back into the masses.

By the time Babyshambles took to the stage at 11.30pm the place sounded like a football match.

Doherty was on form. He strutted around the stage like a proud peacock, earning his icon status a hundred times over, and even tipped his hat to the punter who threw what must have been a full pint at him.

Between those spikey melodies, his smooth vocals and trademark squawk he worked the crowd like he was inciting a riot. They were crazed, ecstatic.

And, as Doherty sauntered into the light through swirling dry ice, for a snapshot moment I felt how they felt: part of something historic.