Column: Not your average bad boy

This week marks the release of one of the most reported on albums of the year, but it's not someone you may have heard of. Pete Doherty, lead singer of the band Babyshambles and accessory to model Kate Moss' latest indiscretions, releases his new band's first album this week. Down in Albion is Doherty's first release since his very public and drug soaked split fromThe Libertines last year.

Doherty, in conjunction with Moss, is probably the second most publicized character in Great Britain, just behind David Beckham. His nicknames are numerous, including British tabloid The Sun's "Potty Pete." Doherty is a complete and utter mess of a human being. Steeped in debt and drug abuse, his critics have called him a bad influence, among other things. But to be truthful, he is a bit more complicated than the typical, drug addicted rocker outline we have seen repeatedly in the past.

Doherty is obsessed with his homeland. An avid reader of famous English poets such as Lord Byron, Doherty is a scholar of the British Isles, referring to England by its classical name, Albion, throughout his new release.

He has taken to being some sort of mascot for the English poet underling, stuck in a gutter hopped up on a litany of illegal substances like his 19th century predecessors. Doherty has even collected the clichéd society woman at his side in Moss, whose fall from grace will surely lift her significant other's record sales on both sides of the Atlantic.

So this sounds a bit ordinary. Sort of reminds me of Kurt Cobain with Courtney Love, the poetic guitarist whose doom came too soon as a product of heroin and vice.

On Down in Albion, Doherty steps up to the iconic presence of his predecessors, distancing himself from whatever name he gives his band and becoming the great poetic rocker of his generation. All right that might be a bit much. I mean isn't he is just another Englishman with a band? There are thousands of those, most of them quite bad and overrated, but for some reason he sticks out.

In this new generation of British music, product of both the disappointment and restlessness with the current Labor government, there has been a litany of acts to come out of Britain, each with their own identity. Reminiscent of grunge era America, this rebirth has produced quite a few industry leaders, but Doherty has presented himself firmly as the only real identifiable person within the movement.

Pudgy-cheeked and chain smoking, he swaggers his way into the sheets of all the dailies. He hides little of his drug abuse, yet keeps a respectable attitude. It often seems ironic that the man who can eloquently remark on his love for his country can also steal his friend's money to fund his drug addiction. Every day there is news about Doherty, whether he lost his passport, can't find a place to live, or was seen with Moss at a dealer's house. His name is on the tip of people's tongues like Cobain's was in early '90s America.

The album is surprisingly good, a bit slow compared to The Libertines' releases, but well-paced nevertheless. It's about the dynamics of life in London, specifically diversity within the communities. It's about the lack of hope in politics, the sort of disappointment the country seems to be suffering in the face of Tony Blair's imminent departure.

It's about the hope that is held within the borders of England, the classical dreams and aspirations of people from towns and cities across the country. Doherty is speaking for a people, a generation of English citizens, who are just awakening to the prevailing feeling of apathy within the masses.

The track "Albion" could be the best of the year thus far. The song seems a tongue-in-cheek attempt of love for England, with lyrics like, "More gin in teacups / And leaves on the lawn / Violence in dole queues / And the pale thin girl / Behind the checkout," but Doherty means it sincerely. The disappointment within "Albion" is his blanket by the fireside; its failures his twice daily cup of tea with milk. He seeks to embrace England, Albion, for all its past and all its faults.

Doherty, a drug-abusing disappointment, finds solace living in a country with identical attributes. He is the face of New Labor Britain in its waning years, still wandering, searching for a passion its prime minister can no longer describe.