All that glamour is not gold

With fervent media backing, Pete Doherty became the latest rock icon. Was it through talent, old school rock 'n' roll excess, or just so a few hacks could get a slice of the pie asks Eoin Butler

Given what we already knew about Pete Doherty, the recent interview with him in Hot Press shouldn't have been that shocking. But it was. Having just witnessed the former Libertine perform a rapturously received Dublin show, journalist Steve Cummins boards the Babyshambles tourbus with Pete's bandmate Drew O'Connor: "As we open the door separating the driver's cabin from the buses lounge area, I see Doherty right in front of me. He's sitting at a table with his top off. Wrapped around his left arm is a black rubber chord. The other end of the chord is between his teeth. On the table in front of him is a needle. 'You'd better wait out here' says O'Connell. 'OK,' I say, shocked, as he closes the door behind him."

The Hot Press story is frank about the devastation heroin and crack cocaine are inflicting on Pete Doherty. But what about, oh say, the NME? When they anointed Doherty the coolest man in rock, did they risk glamorising addiction? It's like asking whether The Sopranos glamorises violence. The answer has to be that, on some level, yes they do. But – and it's a big but – not in a way that would influence the real life behaviour of anyone who wasn't already completely deranged. Besides, glamorising crack or smack is like sexing-up Ireland's Own – you have your work cut out for you.

It's natural that the controversy that has engulfed Doherty for the past two years has attracted media interest. What's odd is that this morbid soap opera has also enhanced the Libertines' critical standing. The November 2003 Guardian article (setting out the case for them as the best band in Britain) typifies the hypocrisy. Opening with details of the band's "turbulent" history it goes on to conclude that those details are "beside the point, except for those still foolish enough to equate drug addiction and petty crime with bona fide rock'n'roll credentials. All the credentials the Libertines need are there on Up The Bracket."

Their debut album was indeed a glorious racket, but the fact is that no one, bar the NME, got excited about the Libertines until the drug addiction and petty crime came to light. In fact the Guardian originally gave Up The Bracket a paltry three star review, saying it contained "too many lesser-realised numbers to be a classic debut."

Why are fans and critics so receptive to the drama Doherty generates? Probably because they think he's shaping up to be a rock and roll icon and they each want a piece of that legend. Because if there's one thing you'll notice about the all-time greats it's that, right from the beginning, they – like Pete – have a mythology that builds up around them.

The drama that surrounded the likes of Dylan, Keith Richards and Kurt Cobain wasn't what made them great. Quite the opposite: it's the enduring appeal of their music that feeds their legends. And no doubt many one-time contenders had what seemed like the basis for a legend, but which soon became just an anecdote and then a footnote as their reputations faded.

Compare it to Max Weber's view of how the belief in predestination drove early capitalism. Wealth doesn't get you into heaven, the early Calvinists believed. But having wealth was as good a clue as any that you were among those already chosen. In much the same way, while it's impossible to know if Pete's music will endure, the fact that his story contains the building blocks of such a great legend is a strong clue that it might.

The reason why excess – above all else – is such a staple of rock and roll folklore is probably because of a loose assumption that someone who has no concern for his own well being must be putting more into his art than someone who still has one eye on a fallback in accountancy. And there's probably some substance to that idea. But while Pete Doherty's problems are all of his own making, that doesn't make the ambivalence about his fate among those around him any more palatable.

Does it bother those who crave immortality for him that that the brand of immortality on offer, even if he attains it, will mean precious little outside of the pages of a few sad music magazines? Seemingly not. Observing the feeding frenzy around her son, Pete's mother could be forgiven for wondering 'Where is my boy in all of this?'