the IO documentary trailer

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the IO documentary trailer

Post by sunshine » 07 Nov 2018, 21:06

Suede share new trailer for tell-all documentary ‘The Insatiable Ones’
Andrew Trendell
Nov 7, 2018 3:00 pm
Glimpse into the 'twisted world' of Suede with the band, Justine Frishmann and more
Suede have shared the dramatic new trailer for the new documentary about the band’s history, The Insatiable Ones. See it first on NME below.
The feature-length documentary “explores the highs and lows of Suede’s career”, with unprecedented access, new interviews and unseen footage from the band’s archive. Brett Anderson, Mat Osman, Simon Gilbert, Richard Oakes and Neil Codling are joined in the film by former band members Justine Frischmann and ex-Smith Mike Joyce, as well as Ricky Gervais, family, friends, Richard Osman, Peter Saville, Ed Buller and many more.
“The trailer really is just the tip of the iceberg,” director Mike Christie told NME. “The movie length doc is already surprising, shocking and exciting people perhaps just as much as Suede did when they first arrived in their inimitable style 25 years ago.
“They are definitely not a typical band – and this is far from your typical music doc…”
Christie continued: “One of many things I’ve learned in two decades of documentary making is that some stories can’t be told until they’re ready to be told. We’d debated making a film before but this time was absolutely the right time.
“This is a band who are once again at the peak of their artistic powers and only now in the right place to reflect deeply on their lives, past and work with brutal honesty. And coupled with the extraordinarily extensive video archive of drummer Simon Gilbert, we don’t just hear about the intense highs and lows – we see them…”
The documentary features as part of a ‘Suede Night’ on Sky Arts on November 24, when they’ll also be showing the band’s ‘legendary’ Royal Albert Hall 2010 comeback show for Teenage Cancer Trust.
Anderson added: “There is no one better placed to make the definitive Suede film than Mike Christie. He’s been there with us almost from day one, pointing a damned camera in our faces.
“This isn’t a powder-puff promotional tool, it’s a film that grasps at the very essence of what the band is, charting the scruffy inglorious years of struggle, the vertiginous heights of success and the dank depths of self-destruction and hopefully emerges at the end of it all with some truths revealed and some myths destroyed”.
Last year, Brett Anderson opened up about his past relationship with Elastica’s Justine Frischmann – crediting their split for the evolution and success of Suede.
Anderson and Frischmann were a couple in the late 80’s as they formed Suede together. She would later leave him in 1991 for Blur frontman Damon Albarn, before also parting ways with the band and forming Elastica.
“One of my favourite things about Justine is the fact that she’s so interested in everyone,” said Anderson. “She’s not aloof in any way. It would be easy for her to be, given what she has and who she is. But when she’s talking to someone, she really cares about what their answer is. She’s fascinated and fascinating. I love that combination. And yes, I’m still very, very fond of her.”
Speaking of their split and Frishmann’s departure from Suede, Anderson said: “In lots of ways, it was a brilliant thing. Without it, I might be sort of working in some planning office in Darlington. But I was very happy, living with Justine. We had a fantastic time together, and young love is amazing. But it’s not conducive to creating interesting, tormented, passionate music, you know? I needed some sort of motor to get myself off my arse and have something to write about. The time between us splitting up and her leaving the band was a really odd, sticky, strange thing. Because she was asking lots of questions about the band, and there was a kind of disunity because of that.
“She wanted Suede to be a different kind of band. And as soon as she left, it suddenly just… it’s like magnets. It wasn’t the missing piece, it was the removal of the piece. Suddenly we just linked, and all four of us, it became a little bit telepathic.”
Suede recently released their acclaimed 2018 album ‘The Blue Hour‘.. ... cSxY4igRxU

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Re: the IO documentary trailer

Post by sunshine » 24 Nov 2018, 20:55

24 November 2018
Suede: The Insatiable Ones – the ugly beautiful truth is a must watch
A new Sky Arts documentary about Suede uncovers the tangled tale of a band who mixed glamour and excess with the dark poetry of suburbia
By George Chesterton
24 November 2018
By the time of Suede’s fourth album, 1999’s Head Music, it was easy to imagine that Brett Anderson had been replaced by a Brett Anderson Random Lyric Generator. But by 1999 Suede were out of step, just as they had been when they released their first single in 1992. They are a band who admit to never fitting in and even at their commercial peak they were trapped between what they had been rejecting, American grunge and indie dance, and what they inadvertently gave birth to, Britpop. They remained outside whatever cultural moment they happened to be sashaying past in slightly flared trousers. Suede always had delusions of grandeur. But what beautiful delusions they were.
The Sky Arts documentary Suede: The Insatiable Ones, follows the band’s successes and troubles through interviews, archives and a mass of video shot by the drummer Simon Gilbert in the studio and on the road. The film, by Mike Christie, begins with Anderson nodding sagely in a studio listening to some orchestration in Prague. It’s indicative of what Suede always wanted to be: a band not necessarily driven by an ambition to be huge, but rather a band with huge ambitions.
Suede: The Insatiable Ones begins with the journey of Anderson from school in Haywards Heath to University College London, where the singer met Justine Frischmann in 1989 and formed the core of the group with his childhood friend, bassist Mat Osman (brother of Richard Osman, who appears throughout). The generosity of Frischmann’s testimonials provide some of the warmest moments of the film, adding welcome perspective to a band whose entire existence was so cultivated or, to their detractors, contrived.
Suede admit to never fitting in. They always had delusions of grandeur. But what beautiful delusions they were
Recounting the cash-strapped early years, we discover the shock when The Smith’s drummer Mike Joyce auditioned – “It was one of the strangest things that ever happened to us” says Osman – and that Gilbert’s arrival was down in part to his friend Ricky Gervais, who, for a short time, was their ineffectual co-manager. “I remember saying, ‘oh I’m rubbish at this,’” says Gervais. “And the band agreed.” Then Bernard Butler answered an ad for a guitarist in the NME. His arrival and Frischmann’s departure – she left Anderson with a broken heart but a stack of his best lyrics to write – hastened the great leap they were looking for. “It enabled me to tap into something primal – loss, frustration, jealousy,” says Anderson. “I was trying to reflect the world around me – squats, roundabouts – but it was also an escape.”
The film captures the sudden emergence of Suede’s particularity, as they signed to Nude Records and played to increasingly hysterical audiences. As Stuart Maconie, the man who put Anderson on the cover of Select magazine in April 1993 with headline “Yanks Go Home” explains. Suede have a very definite constituency. It emerged from and reflected the emotional frigidity and patio-grey deserts of suburbia. And just like any artists looking beyond the horizons of their claustrophobic home, Suede were at once explorers and prisoners. The music, the image, the lyrics were a reaction against their environment that could never escape its own frames of reference.
From the first time I heard The Drowners – especially the B-Side “To The Birds” – it was obvious to me why I liked them so much. The early part of the documentary explores Anderson and Osman’s emergence from Haywards Heath – something Anderson himself eloquently recounts in his autobiography Coal Black Mornings. This was a world I knew rather too well for comfort and he articulated it with unnerving accuracy. He became the poet laureate of pylons, municipal parks and cheap housing stock. If anything, the film does not state the impact of the first singles and their debut album, Suede, enough. It was a moment of exuberance and drama just as British pop seemed to have run out of steam (again). “The sexuality in the lyrics was a really important thing,” says Anderson. “I wanted to talk about sexuality in the same way Lucian Freud paints the human body.”
Butler, a lithe, beautiful figure with a guitar in his hands, is shown only in old clips and his contributions do not go beyond an interview he shared with Anderson after their acrimony had been resolved in 2004. It’s telling that when Osman talks of Butler’s slide into the musical monomania that saw him leave during their second album, Dog Man Star, he admits he wishes they had shown more empathy for this fragility. Butler was still grieving for his father in 1994, and this compounded the collapse of his relationship with Anderson and their producer Ed Buller.
Dog Man Star was recorded in shifts so Butler could work alone and he and Anderson effectively wrote their songs “by post”. Butler’s dark Brian Wilson routine did help create the massive sound and scope of Dog Man Star, which appeared just as the meat and potatoes of Britpop was emerging into the mainstream. “I felt partly responsible for it,” says Anderson of Britpop. “Like giving birth to some awful child.” It’s an album that should be treasured – grandiloquent and brooding but also deeply humane and smart. Butler’s exit fulfils that great trope of pop and rock history: the “what if” question. But this is misleading, as Anderson explains. He knew from the beginning that Butler would leave. It was simply a question of when.
Suede's first album was a moment of exuberance and drama just as British pop seemed to have run out of steam
This sorry episode is lifted by the bathos of film’s funniest moment: the footage of a dewy-eyed Anderson in his dark glasses at a press conference following Butler’s departure, looking like David St Hubbins after Nigel Tufnell quits Spinal Tap. He admits, “Ninety-nine per cent of the world thought we were over, including part of me.”
Frischmann explains that Suede survived because it was always Anderson and Osman’s band. With bloody mindedness and the 17-year-old guitarist Richard Oakes (the first gig he had ever been to was Suede, who he watched with eyes on stalks at Poole Arts Centre in 1993) they returned with new songs and the wise decision to change the mood. That led to their most commercially successful album, bursting with big hits, Coming Up, helped by keyboard player Neil Codling. “It was such an optimistic record and that was a side of Suede nobody had seen before,” said Buller. The film reunites Anderson with the legendary Factory designer Peter Saville, who seemed to have created the band’s artwork of this period entirely in his dressing gown.
By the late Nineties the momentum was unsustainable, especially as Anderson, who admits his penchant at the hard stuff, became an free-basing self-parody. “I justified my addiction by seeing it as part of a rock’n’roll mythology.” Needless to say, wanting to make a Prince album hit a few snags. Firstly, he was high on crack and heroin. Secondly, he wasn’t Prince. Osman remembers how the band could tell if Anderson had been smoking crack because he would arrive at the studio with his hair pushed back to avoid setting it alight. Even when the singer got clean, the music had run dry. “We were done – we’d run out of inspiration,” says Osman. The fifth album has been officially disowned. In a group therapy session arranged for the film, Anderson apologises to the rest of the members for his behaviour and for announcing the split on Graham Norton. After a few awkward confessions, the footage cuts to them reforming at the Royal Albert Hall in 2010 and loving every minute of it.
Osman said he could tell if Anderson had been smoking crack because he would arrive at the studio with his hair pushed back to avoid setting it alight
After side and solo projects, Suede returned and are slotting comfortably into national treasure status with three albums since, including this year’s The Blue Hour. Suede care. They do their homework. They make the effort. Nothing demonstrates this better than their love of the now archaic-sounding B-side, which they produced by the bucketload (collected on the fine Sci-Fi Lullabies in 1997), when other bands couldn’t be bothered.
Accusations of pretentiousness are pointless. If pop can’t be pretentious then there is no hope for humanity. Anyway, such barbs are often made by those for whom imagination itself is an act of class war. Like their contemporaries Pulp, Suede are canonical English pop, mixing the wry fantasies of art school (Bowie, Roxy Music, even Kate Bush), the working-class smarts of The Kinks and the sleaze of new wave. If you don’t understand Suede, you don’t understand English music. This is an understated documentary for a band who tried to be anything but understated. Then again, under the filthy glamour of Suede there has always been something dark and grey. To take a few examples at random: concrete, flyovers, motorways, council houses, skyscrapers, telephone wires, electric lights…
Suede: The Insatiable Ones is on Sky Arts on 24 November at 8pm, followed by Suede: Live At The Royal Albert Hall at 11.15pm ... m3X33_0Xl8

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