Jake Brennan (29:55)
March 2004, Mick Jones of the Clash was feeling it he had his hands up in the air and his hips were swinging in that little dance that he always did during a great studio take. In the tracking room, the Libertines were slamming their way through a new song called Can't Stand Me now, their first of the day. Mick signed on to produce the album, was listening in the control room, and he liked what he heard. The song was written by Pete as a duet. It was a song about a love gone wrong. It wasn't about Kate Moss, who Pete wouldn't meet for another year. Instead, it was about the love between him and Carl. It was structured like an English indie rock version of Johnny Cash and June Carter's Jackson. Only instead of a married couple bickering about the flame going out, it was two brothers calling each other out for controlling behavior and rampant smack addictions. Mick was nervous about starting with this one. The lyrics were so raw and direct, but it quickly became clear he didn't have any choice. Although the band booked a week of rehearsals before the session, this was the only song they had ready. Watching Pete and Carl leaning into their lines, shouting back and forth, he knew it was worth the risk. The electricity of their performance was impossible to miss. Standing practically nose to nose, the two front men conjured up years of frustration in three and a half minutes. Mick knew the song was a winner. That's why he was working with Pete and Carl again, despite all the hassles, because they make great music. Mick had also produced the band's debut album, up the Bracket. Back then, Pete and Carl had been a handful, but Mick had been through his share of tense studio sessions with Joe Strummer, and they still managed to make plenty of great albums. He could handle the tension, and his steady hand and impeccable rock credentials kept Pete and Carl relatively restrained during sessions for the first album, which snuck onto the top 40 of the UK album charts a year later. The follow up album was hotly anticipated by fans in the music press. No one had any doubt that it would hit number one. If they could actually get it made, that is. Mickey knew that the last time Pete and Carl spent more than 48 hours together, they were supposed to work on new songs for the album at the home of their manager, Alan McGee. Instead, they got into a fight and Carl got so drunk that he bashed his face into a bathroom sink until his eye was literally hanging out of the socket and he needed 70 stitches to repair the damage. So Mick was more than a little concerned about the prospect of Pete and Carl spending a week with recording together in the same room. The bodyguards would help, though. Alan McGee, who had dealt with his share of combustible brotherhoods as the manager of Oasis and the Jesus in the Mary chain, decided to hire bodyguards for Pete and Carl to make sure they didn't try to kill each other during the recording sessions. The presence of the two burly men unnerved Mick, but fortunately the vibes have been great so far, and the bodyguards had spent most of the morning shooting pool. In the tracking room, the band brought the song to a thundering climax. The ending was so good that Mick made a mental note to try cutting it and using it as the song's intro. It seemed like the right move for a song that was about an ending. Mick motioned for the band to join him in the control room. He lit a spliff and inhaled as he sat back in a chair. The band, a pair of studio engineers, and the bodyguards all filed into the room in Stone stood around a long glass coffee table. Hearing the song again through the speakers, it was clear to Mick that they had just captured lightning in a bottle. The song practically jumped out of the speakers. It felt like a number one song. Not wanting to lose momentum, Mick quickly asked Pete and Carl what song they wanted to do next. Carl threw out a suggestion and Pete shot it down. Pete suggested another, but Carl spat back that that song didn't seem finished. Mick felt the tension rising in the room. Pete suggested they set up a small digital recorder at Carl's apartment so the two of them could flesh out a few of the songs between sessions. Carl's eyes narrowed into slits. You mean the apartment that you broke into? He asked. Everyone was silent as the question hung in the air and Carl continued. My sister won't even let you step foot in the apartment. Mick stubbed out the spliff in an ashtray and jumped up from his seat. Time to jump in before things got worse. So he walked across the control room and saw Pete staring speechless at Carl from across the glass table. He looked like he might break into tears or possibly rip Carl's head off. Better to start off with a gentle approach, Mick thought to himself. He reached an arm toward Pete and Carl. Boys, boys, what's all this about? He asked softly. Carl looked at Pete with a sneer. His eyes were still burning with anger. It's nothing, Mick, he said. Pete just can't handle his brown. Before Mick could react, Pete launched himself across the glass table at Carl. As he tackled Carl, they both went down in a heap and Pete started punching him wildly in his face and Stomach. Mick was shocked. In the past, Carl had been the more aggressive one. Pete would rather run than fight. But maybe prison had changed him. Fortunately, the two bodyguards rushed in. One easily lifted Pete in the air by the waistband of his jeans and the other held Carl back as he screamed about wanting to finish things outside. After struggling for a few minutes, eventually both Pete and Carl calmed down. Mick shared a few choice anecdotes about scrapes he and Joe Strummer got into while recording Combat Rock, and they even managed to lay down a few more songs that day. But after the fight and the emotional drain of recording Can't Stand Me Now, Pete's heart wasn't in it. Something about hearing the words he had written for Carl being sung back at him. He'd always imagined that Carl hated him on some level. After recording the song, he knew it was true. And thanks to the tenacity of his bodyguard, Pete showed up for the next few sessions. But his partnership with Carl had fractured beyond repair. Besides, Pete was looking forward to new bands, new experiences, new friends. Like the ones who were hanging around his apartment every morning when his bodyguard showed up. The crack dealers and groupies and other so called artists that inhabited his world. Now, while the rest of the Libertines were mixing the album, Pete was in rehab. And when the band was playing festivals, Pete was in court on a series of drug possession charges. And by the time the second album hit number one on the charts, Pete was out of the band indefinitely. Without Carl trying to reign him in, Pete's drug use spiraled even further out of control. Chaos followed him everywhere. Violent altercations with paparazzi, trashed hotel rooms, canceled gigs. And on one fateful December night, for an unknown actor with dreams of stardom, a brush with Pete Doherty would mark his last night on earth among the living. Mark Blanco started off his Saturday evening on December 2, 2006, like he did most Saturdays at the George Tavern. Mark was intelligent, Cambridge educated. He was a trained actor and his friends said he had real talent. But he struggled to land roles. He also struggled to connect with people offstage. He had a hard time finding his place in the vast London art scene. At the George Tavern, though, he finally felt like he'd found a community here. He made friends with artists like Paul Roundhill, whose so called literary salon was just around the corner. The George Tavern was where Marc Blanco decided to put on a Play. He was 30 years old and tired of feeling like life was slipping by. He was tired of waiting for some director to cast him. Instead, with the help of some friends, he would put on his own production right there at the tavern. For his debut, he chose Accidental Death of an Anarchist, an Italian play based on the real life death of Giuseppe Pinelli, an anarchist who fell to his death under suspicious circumstances While in police custody. Mark threw himself into the production. He acted in the lead role. He directed, he did the marketing. Which is why, as he put away a few pints at the George that Saturday night, he had a stack of flyers for the show tucked into his jacket pocket. As he ordered another round, a friend popped into the pub with an excited look, and he said that the rock star Pete Doherty had just turned up at Paul Roundhill's apartment. When Mark heard the name, his ears perked up. He knew from the tabloids about Pete's reputation as a druggie and as half of a celebrity couple with Kate Moss. But he also read that Pete was a true artist, someone with deep knowledge of poetry, books and plays. Hell, he'd named his band after a Marquis de Sade novel. In short, Pete Doherty was the kind of man who might be interested in a new Do It Yourself theater production. If you could get Pete to attend the play, that he had no doubt that attendance would go through the roof and the play would be a success. And Mark was determined to make it a success. So Mark set off for Paul Roundhill's apartment, arriving just around midnight. And whether it was the excitement, the pints, or his all consuming desire to make the play a success, witnesses say he was drunk and aggressive, or at least overly enthusiastic. When he began talking to Pete about the play. He cornered Pete, badgered him about attending. And then when Paul and Pete's bodyguard, Johnny Headlock, tried to back him away from Pete, he refused to leave. Pushing and shoving broke out. Witnesses from the apartment building heard screams, and then Johnny Headlock and Paul forcibly pushed him out of the building. After taking a few steps away, Marc Blanco decided to return. Why? Maybe he left something behind. Maybe he wanted to get the final word. Maybe, as Pete suggested, he wanted to make a dark artistic statement with a brutal final act. What we do know is that just 57 seconds later, the same security camera that captured him leaving the building showed his body plummeting to the ground and hitting the sidewalk. What happened to Marc Blanco? The police were quick to rule the death a suicide and later an accident. But there's no evidence that Marc Blanco was suicidal. Toxicology reports didn't show any drugs in his system, although his blood alcohol level was elevated. A forensic analyst claimed that reverse projection techniques indicate a Second person was on the balcony with Marc Blanco before he died. The security camera shows Pete Thaugherty, a young woman and his bodyguard all running from the scene moments after Mark's body was was discovered. They step right by the prone body, pause to yell something up at the balcony, and then sprint away. Was this because Pete Doherty wanted to avoid another arrest for drug possession and another negative tabloid headline? Or was it because they knew something more about what happened to Marc Blanco? There's also this. Two weeks after the death, Johnny Headlock walked into a police station and confessed to murdering Marc Blanco. You heard that, right? He confessed to the crime, but an hour later, he recanted. During his interrogation, he was so high on cocaine that the police questioned the validity of his confession from the start. Meanwhile, just a few weeks after Mark Blanco's death, Pete made the extraordinary, some might say extraordinarily tasteless decision to make a video of himself singing a brand new song in the same same flat where Blanco died. And the name of the song, the Lost Art of Murder. The Libertines reunited in 2010. Since 2014, they've put out two new albums and toured with more regularity than in their early 2000s heyday. Pete Daugherty, for his part, says he's clean. He says French cheese has replaced heroin as his drug of choice. He also says he knows nothing about what happened to Marc Blanco during the latter's final 57 seconds in that apartment. And maybe there's nothing to know. Maybe it was just a freak accident, just another in a series of horrific events that accompany Pete Doherty's slide into darkness. To the surprise of many, somehow Pete managed to make it out the other side alive to repair his fractured relationship with Carl Barrett to continue making great music. But not everyone who followed him into the darkness would be that lucky. And that's a disgrace. I'm Jake Brennan and this is Disgraceland. All right, guys, thanks for listening to this episode of Disgraceland. Pete Daugherty. Listen, I want to know a question of the week. This week, what do you think happened? Do you think Pete Daugherty had anything to do with the death of Mark Blanco? 617-906-6638 voicemail and text, let me know what you think. You can also email me disgracelandpodgmail.com hit me up on the socials@gracelandpod or in the Patreon chat, go to disgraceandpod.com to sign up to become an All Access member today to unlock exclusive and ad free content, guys. Appreciate y'.
