By Clare Kleinedler
It seems the London Suede is the band that everybody
loves to hate. No matter how many records they sell, or how many venues
they fill to capacity, they just can't seem to get much respect.
"There are people all over the world who hate Suede...it's quite a universal thing," says bassist Mat Osman, laughing. "There's people in remote hillside tribes who hate us."
It is probably Suede's against-the-grain way of doing things that frustrates people. While most British bands emulate the Beatles, Suede looks to T. Rex for influence. While every other U.K. band was trying desperately to become the next Oasis, Suede quietly retreated into the studio, content with making their own sound and style. And now, with the release of their third album, Coming Up, the band gone in a completely different direction than what was expected of them.
"The idea was to come back as a new band," says singer Brett Anderson. "Before we did a lot of things with heavy orchestral sounds and stuff, but this time we decided to go with a more live perspective."
"We had to go back to being a garage band again, get back to the root of it." --London Suede's Mat Osman
The album not only marks a change in sound for Suede, but a line-up switch as well. After a very public parting with original guitarist Bernard Butler back in 1994, the band recruited Richard Oaks, a completely unknown, 17-year-old guitar slinger from Dorset, England. The band also added keyboardist Neil Coding, cousin of Suede drummer Simon Gilbert.
"It was and wasn't a difficult change," says Anderson, pausing for thought. "It turned out a lot easier than I expected. We started playing live with Richard three weeks after he joined, and we clicked together quite well."
Osman feels the change is what helped the band get back to the basics for the new album.
"Well, Richard's been with us for three years now...he's 20, which is pretty ancient, right?" says Osman, joking as usual. "Yeah, it was a bit difficult at first because [Suede] was on an outward path and we had to start all over again. But I think it worked out for the best because we had to go back to being a garage band again, get back to the root of it."
With the exception of Anderson's signature choking, Bowie-esque vocals, Coming Up is fresh with new sounds and attitudes. Basic, pop-guitar chords and slightly kooky lyrics dominate the album; a shift from the rich, dark, string-infested structures that commanded past albums. "Trash," the first single, signals Anderson's new-found carefree outlook with lyrics like, "We're trash, you and me/We're the litter on the breeze/We're the lovers on the streets." "By the Sea," one of two solo compositions by Anderson on the record, is both a beautiful piano ballad and a jovial anthem: "And when I start my new life I won't touch the ground/I'm gonna try hard this time not to touch the ground." It's as if the melody defies the lyrics.
Letting their hair down has proved quite becoming for Suede. "She" explores the band's yet-unseen playful side. Starting off with the thunder of Gilbert's precision drumming, the song breaks out in reckless guitar abandon. Anderson's usual heavy vocals even lighten up a bit on "Beautiful Ones," a song that showcases his enticingly peculiar, almost Beck-like lyrical style: "Shaved heads, rave heads, on the pill, got too much time to kill/ get into bands and gangs/ Oh here they come, the beautiful ones, the beautiful ones." Anderson credits much of his growth to a freer, less-stressful environment in the studio.
"It's just another indication of the new spirit of the band. We used to write in a pretty rigid way, and it just came together this time," says Anderson. "It was a relief. We got rid of the gang mentality...basically everyone was just chucking stuff in. If you close yourself up, you can get into a way of work where you just get used to it."
To prepare for recording, the band locked themselves in a small rehearsal room and pounded out song after song.
"I think there's a kind of youth and exuberance that comes from having things not be too complicated," says Osman. "We just bashed out tunes in the rehearsal studio. It's almost like a debut album because it was written and worded in a room."
When Suede formed in 1989, their tactics were completely opposite of their new bare-bones direction. Friends from school, Anderson and Osman recruited guitarist Butler from an ad in the English music paper, New Musical Express. Later Gilbert, a ticket salesman at the time, joined along with Justine Frischmann, now known as the lead singer of Elastica. The group debuted themselves as glamorous, New Romantics and were immediately despised by everyone in the music industry. Their gigs and independent single, "Be My God/Art," were trashed by critics and the love/hate relationship was started. But Anderson managed to ignore the demands to join the mainstream.
"I have never felt the pressure from others," says Anderson. "The only pressure we feel is from ourselves. We've only wanted to impress each other."
Frischmann, who was Anderson's live-in girlfriend for three years, left the relationship and the group in late 1991. A year later, Suede started getting positive press and released more independent singles. By '93, the public was interested to see what the band had to offer, and their self-titled debut shot straight to No. 1. And with the release of Dog Man Star in 1994, Suede stunned even the most fickle of critics leading to the album being named "one of the best of the decade," by several top U.K. music magazines.
But with the positive reviews came the predictable backlash. Anderson's feminine look and sometimes eccentric behavior led to seething articles accusing the singer of being bisexual, among other things. The numerous attacks on Anderson's personal style led to many believing he was looking for controversy. "Poseur" was one of many names thrown his way. "I was never into being controversial," says Anderson, relaxed and unaffected by the accusations. "It's as if people need diversions...it's something I never tried to do. If I say something about sex or drugs, all of a sudden I'm this drug crazed, sex crazed God. If I do a six-hour interview, and I say the word 'drugs' once, there will be a huge headline on the story that reads "DRUGS!" with my photo underneath. But, I'm not going to talk about doing crosswords all day. I just say what I think."
Like many British bands, people in the U.S. wouldn't recognize Suede if they held a record store at gunpoint. For a band that gets followed nearly everywhere they go in the U.K., is this a letdown?
"No. But it's frustrating not getting played in the U.S. American pop music is built on divisions...divided radio and market shares," says Osman. "In the U.K., you can hear a Michael Jackson song on the radio then a Suede song right after it. It's different in America. I think Nirvana is one of the greatest bands ever, but that whole thing about them wanting to get back to punk and not playing to Guns 'N Roses fans is the most un-British attitude in the world. A British band would say that's the greatest compliment. Because that's the point in music...to reach people you wouldn't normally reach."
Still, London Suede are looking at the bright side. A tour of the States starts in May, and both Anderson and Osman express a desire to make another record by the end of the year. And later down the road? Osman, the resident clown of the group, made this prediction:
"There's a spirit to the band that's bigger than the people in it. I almost feel like one of these days, me and Brett and Simon could leave and they can get some younger people, like a bunch of 7-year-olds and as long as they have the right spirit, it will turn into a little Suede. I plan to be the McDonald's of the 21st century."
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