Subtlety has never been Pete Doherty's strong point. Even so, as girlfriend Kate Moss finds herself spiralling out of modelling contracts, it seems spectacularly misguided for his band to open their set with a burst of Manchester band Joy Division's She's Lost Control.

Such ill-thought-out gestures often divide opinion on the former Libertine. For some, he's one of rock's genuine poets, whose Huxley-like quest for knowledge has led to a fall off the rails. For others, he's a fiendish manipulator who has used druggy associations and Moss to acquire tabloid-fuelled celebrity. Either way, it's sometimes difficult to remember that he is - or was (since he now appears to have abandoned the guitar) - a musician, and for a while in the Libertines, a great one.

But the "lifestyle" is finally wreaking havoc. His voice croaks; his babyish beauty is bloating; he has particular difficulty putting on a hat. Because Babyshambles are no Libertines, it's difficult to decide whether these are bad songs, or good songs played badly by "musicians" selected for their ability to survive the Doherty circus. There are flashes of something - even humanity - in lines like: "You're a good friend, there aren't many left." It's harder to sympathise with druggy bad puns like Pipedown and Kilimangiro ("Kill a man for his giro today") or Fuck Forever, which equates death and glory.

Perhaps Doherty's biggest problem is his audience of chain-smoking vampirish acolyte-voyeurs. If they cared, they'd walk away. Instead, they drink Red Stripe because Pete drinks Red Stripe (because the Clash drank Red Stripe) and cheer every stumble. It's eerily reminiscent of the ghoulish shows Sid Vicious performed, post-Sex Pistols, a punkie-junkie performing seal. Vicious died a punk martyr but history judges him a moron. Is Doherty really happy to be going the same way?

· At Chinnery's, Southend-on-Sea (box office: 01702 467305), tomorrow and touring.