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New Generation Game – Suede live review!
Posted on March 5, 2013 by David Barnett
Suede at London Barfly 4 March 2013
What a difference a decade makes. Ten years ago, as they attempted to drum up interest in their greatest hits compilation, coming cold on the achilles heels of their critically unclaimed sonic tombstone, A New Mo(u)rning, Suede could barely get arrested. Even that artful rodgerer Brett Anderson bellowing “I’ve got the best drugs in the whole of London!” from the balcony of his Notting Hill townhouse and an accompanying snorts and all biography failed to arouse even the
interest of the Met, let alone the general public.
Indeed it was only as the band announced their final farewell to their dwindling fanbase that people began to remember just how fond of Suede they had once been – and what a gaping, gangrenous hole in the arm of rock’n'roll their absence left depressingly unfilled. “There will be another Suede album,” teased Brett at the swansong performance in December 2003. “But not yet.”
Few believed him. But last-forward to the unforgiving new millennium turning teenager and that other Suede album is not only here, but also arguably their most eagerly anticipated platter since the eponymous debut that started all the fuss almost exactly 20 years ago. And Suede are out to prove that, if not quite reaching the dizziest heights of their finest moments (that would just be daft), Bloodsports is at the very least not the embarrassing stain on their heritage that many diehards considered much of their latter day output.
The occasion is an Xfm showcase at Camden Town’s Barfly, a venue that, if not the “smallest venue they’ve ever played”, as the enthusiastic Xfm presenter wrongly announces, is certainly of a couple-of-hundred-sweaty-bodies capacity they’ve not played regularly since the hormone and ecstasy fueled Suedemania of 1992 when they blew the hapless Kingmaker off stage night after night.
With little fanfare Suede bound on, displaying a new-found vigour and none of the vim of the sex, drugs, and more drugs Suede of popular
legend. The only white powder involved in Suede 2.013 appears to be whatever soap suds have given Brett’s dazzingly fresh white shirt an almost angelic glow. The rest of Suede are dressed simply in black
jeans and t-shirts. They all look infuriatingly young. Bass player Mat Osman even appears to have more hair than he did the last time he was on stage. The confident, galloping, not-quite-single Barriers opens
proceedings; a statement of intent. There are hints of early 80s stadium rock in its scorching, muscular guitar lines and it is clear Suede have got their eyes on the lucrative festival circuit. They follow with another new one, Hit Me, that sounds like the best bits of lots of earlier Suede songs stitched together into a not unconvincing whole. When the first of the actual hits materialises in the form of the relentless riffing of Filmstar, there is no discernible shift in quality. Indeed, tonight is one of the few gigs I’ve been to where I’ve been relieved the band have played an OLD song in order to nip out for a quick slash.
There are plenty of those old classics. The big guns are wheeled out in quick succession: Animal Nitrate, Trash, Killing of A Flash Boy and the best version of He’s Dead I’ve heard them do in their post-Butler
years; “New” guitarist Richard Oakes (who joined 19 years ago) squeezes new blood and passion from a song that was once regarded as his hallowed predecessor’s showpiece.
For the Strangers follows, the closest we get to a ballad in this punk-rock, take-no-prisoners set. The fans in the front row appear to know and love it already, as is the case with It Starts And Ends With
You, the new single that sounds far beefier in the live setting than first radio plays might have suggested. “New one. Old one,” announces Suede’s showman impishly. And it’s back to the very beginning with The Drowners and its vertiginously stunning b-side My Insatiable One. Brett playfully acts out the retard wobbling on the high wire of the lyrics, though mercifully saves us from his impersonation of someone shitting paracetemol. The brooding, tribal-infused Sabotage follows - probably what we’d call a “grower” and then it’s hits all the way. If anyone had forgotten how many of those there were and how great they are, they’re given a ruthless reminding. Can’t Get Enough, Everything Will Flow, So Young, Metal Mickey, Heroine, New Generation … it’s almost a relief when they announce the last song, Beautiful Ones, a tune so bouncy that it transforms this modest venue into one giant human trampoline.
Even at their worst, Suede were always a decent band. What’s changed isn’t so much the band themselves, but how they are perceived by the faithful. Indeed, such is the turnaround in the esteem in which Suede are now held by their followers that even a new album that was merely adequate would probably have been welcomed warmly. On this showing, Bloodsports is not only not the worst Suede album, but it’s quite possibly one of the best. What’s more, the fact that more than half of the audience here tonight were most likely not even born when Suede began suggests that Brett Anderson’s mythical New Generation is finally here – and that, in their most audacious move so far, Suede could yet become the stadium band they always secretly wanted to be.
David Barnett