  [The London]
Suede:
Long Live Teen Angst and Rock N' Roll!
By Kimberly Reyes
It was 1993, I
was a sophomore in high school and the state of
popular music couldn't have been any grimmer.
During this inspirational and void, if Kurt Cobain or Snoop Doggy Dogg
didn't have anything to say to you, you're only
alternatives were Ace of Base and Snow; needless
to say, I wasn't biting.
I opted to stay
away from top forty radio, and for the first time
in my life, MTV altogether. It became an
opportune time for me to explore the world beyond
"Totally Pauly". Before I knew it, odd
things were beginning to happen.
Suddenly
watching the video wasn't the most enjoyable part
of a song. I was starting to appreciate music and
the overwhelming emotional effect that it can
have. I was buying albums and actually sit
through the unreleased tracks. I would listen to
moody records like Achtung Baby and Bloodletting
alone, in the dark, for hours perfectly still and
content just staring at the ceiling and losing
myself in the sound. Was this what well-adjusted
teenagers were supposed to enjoy? Strangely
enough, I did.
The musicians
that truly peeked my interest were the likes of The Smiths, The Psychedelic Furs, Bowie, New Order, and Duran Duran. A little passé?
Perhaps, but respectable enough for any
self-denigrating Anglophile to listen to and
identify with nonetheless. The only problem was
that although there was a huge back catalog of
this sort of music for me to enjoy, the
possibility of actually seeing any of these bands
perform live was zero to none. Besides, even if
they were still performing, or in the process of
an ill-fated reunion, the quality of music had
severely declined. I needed a new, fresh, and
relevant band to call my own.
An avid reader
of British music magazines like Select, Melody
Maker, and Q, I had heard all the
hype about an up and coming retro glam rock band
that I could just about stomach. They called
themselves Suede (naturally) and their lead
singer had enough sexual allure bring even Morrissey out of the catacombs.
Hype had always proved to be more about music
executive media spin than actual talent, so I
didn't expect much out of the wan crooners. Then,
unexpectently, I caught stateside premier of
"Metal Mickey" on 120 minutes at 1am
and everything changed.
There was this
androgynously beautiful (and disgustingly
British) guy on my television screen telling me
things that I hadn't yet realized I needed to
hear. And it wasn't just what he said, it was
they way he said it. The Barry White phenomenon
had never made much sense to me, but listening to
Brett Anderson's sexually charged vocals tell the
tales of the perverted and twisted characters in
his head made my body numb. This emaciated, pasty
white boy from a totally different walk of life
had seeped into both my bedroom and spirit in
ways that no high school boy ever could. All of a
sudden I was completely awake and restless for
more.
 The Tuesday of the their
self titled debut's release, I ran straight from
school to the record store. I wanted to be one of
the first people there to buy the record (of
course I was the only one, the salesperson
actually had to search the backroom for new
arrivals). As soon as caught a glimpse of the
scandalously defiant cover, two women making out,
I knew that that I was in for a ride. By the time
I was in my elevator I was unwrapping the CD with
such fervor that people started to inch away from
me. I was possessed little girl and the wait was
over, Suede was finally mine.
Anderson and
Butler's tales of sad, broken, and sexually
beguiling people were on heavy rotation on my
stereo for the next six months, nonstop. The
album was laced with drug overtones but tracks
like "So Young" and "Sleeping
Pills" spoke openly about a world that I was
only beginning to discover. Instead of
intentionally denouncing or glorifying the
altered lives of addicts and users, Suede painted
guileless and honest pictures of life beyond the
breaking point. The heart wrenching landscape of
despondency and isolation were equally wretched
and exquisite.
There was one
track in particular "Breakdown" that
spoke to me in ways that a song like that should
never for a 16-year-old. Reminiscent of Bowie's "Quicksand",
"Breakdown" a lazy and stunningly
orchestrated track, about depression and the
horrors of what lurks inside confused and idle
minds. Lines like, "back were the cars
decide, where the lame star limps an endless
mile, have I gone too far inside my mind?"
made perfect sense in my world of high school
drama, pretension and self-importance.
Living in New
York (one of few US cities that Suede stopped in)
allowed me the privilege of actually seeing my
favorite band up close and personal. Finally, a
band of consequence was alive and performing in
my era! The day of the show I left school early
to wait in line for six hours outside the general
admission gig. It was a harsh winter in the
Northeast that year, but I weathered the snow and
sleet, alongside other fanatics, just to be
within arms length of the band.
Singing along
and swaying in the crowd of people at the
Academy, an intimate and acoustically superb
venue, felt so pure and unconscious. The rush was
beyond exhilarating and I felt as though I was
floating on air (quite literally since the force
of the crowd had me crushed up against the stage
with my feet rarely touching the ground). The
frenzy and mob-like panic that took over the
crowd didn't faze me; I was in my own little
heaven. I was dripping wet from head to toe
entrenched with the sweat and tears of fellow
worshippers. Even the ticket inside my jean
pocket was soaked with the ink bleeding onto my
pants. I had never been so happy to be so filthy.
When I got home
Suede was the musical guest on Conan O'Brien (a
set they had taped just before the concert). As I
watched the performance, and as satisfying as it
was, I felt sorry for the fans in other parts of
the country who would never get to see Suede in
the flesh. For them, this was the most
"live" they were going to get. They
would never have the honor of showering the smell
of pandemonium and pure hysteria out of their
hair.
I would continue
to see the band play live every time they stopped
in the area. I was also lucky enough to attend
sign-in's and small acoustic in-store
performances. Brett Anderson and Bernard Butler
quite literally ruled my world, I couldn't
imagine life without the steady flow of singles
and bootleg recordings to devour, I couldn't
imagine life without this music.
Within the next
year and a half, on the brink of their second
studio album's release, the band imploded. The
tension inside the band, mainly directed at
Bernard Butler, was never really a secret, but it
was undeniably nearing a breaking point. As
pleasurable as it was to see Suede on the cover
of every major, British music magazine, I
suffered months of utter horror and disbelief
watching the future of my favorite band
evaporate. Remarkably, at the height of the drama
and discord, Suede was making their best music,
but '94, the strain proved too much to bear and
Butler left the band. Dog Man Star was
the last album that "my Suede"
(Anderson, Butler, Gilbert, and Osmon) was to
make.
I was in shock
and heartbroken for months. I couldn't believe
that a band with such promise, fan loyalty, and
critical acclaim would throw in the towel at the
peak of their popularity. It took me a while to
accept what had happened (to this day I get
teary-eyed just thinking about it) but I did
eventually accept it. I bought, and even enjoyed,
the subsequent albums and singles of this new
band (Butler had been replaced by Richard Oakes and soon Neil Codling
was added on keyboards), but the fire wasn't
there anymore. Friction had always proved to be a
great motivator for brilliant music
(McCartney-Lennon, Morrissey-Marr) and now that
everyone was getting along, the music suffered.
I haven't been
as fanatical about a band since the break-up,
maybe it's the fear of rejection and heartbreak
again, or maybe it's just old age. In the time
since the separation I've watched John Taylor
leave Duran Duran and many other bands
near and dear to my heart disintegrate. As trying
as all of these developments have been, none
proved as jarring as the Suede upheaval.
I still listen
to their records and I still find them extremely
poignant and affecting. The memories and
experiences are invaluable to me and I continue
to refer to them when looking for a reminder of
how powerful and affirming music can be. In their
short reign, Suede showed me how music is really
supposed to be-volatile, unpredictable,
undeniable-long live teen angst and Rock N' Roll!
Email Kimberly Reyes
Suede Head: An
Interview With Richard Oakes by Gail Worley
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