4th September 2022
Suede: “We’ve got to find ways to be uncomfortable”
Stay together: Brett Anderson and co on their raging, 'punk' new album
Tom Pinnock
SUEDE have just made their best album in decades – just ask their biggest fan, BRETT ANDERSON. Along with the rest of the band, he explains to Uncut how fatherhood, family and “plummeting towards old age” have helped bring fresh perspectives while simultaneously honouring their earliest influences. “We’ve got to find ways to be uncomfortable,” Brett tells Tom Pinnock, in the latest issue of Uncut magazine – in UK shops now and available to buy from our online store.
Brett Anderson is dressed in the classic Suede uniform when he opens the door: tucked-in shirt, smart trousers and, indeed, socks, all in various shades of black. “I’ve spent a lot of time here,” he says of his west London base, where he stays when he’s not with his family in rural Somerset. “But I’ve not done much to it.” He implores Uncut not to judge him on the dated kitchen, then turns to the lounge area. “The radiators, I chose them, and the chandelier and sofas, so write what you like about those…”
Like its owner, this city bolthole – comprising one floor of a grand, pillared townhouse – is stylish, bohemian and arty, with a touch of weathered glamour. Green leaves and a jetplane sky fill the windows, there’s a moka pot heating on the stove, dark family photos on the mantelpiece and a black vintage guitar propped up against the fireplace. Suede bassist Mat Osman, also in black, is similarly arranged on a kitchen stool.
We’re here to discuss Autofiction, Suede’s ninth album. A raw blast of post-punk noise and stripped-back energy, it is a far cry from the more theatrical, experimental soundscapes of 2018’s The Blue Hour. It’s the group’s most exciting record in decades.
“It’s just the way the pendulum swings,” says Anderson. “After making two quite conceptual, avant-garde records, you naturally want to explore that nastier side. Whenever I do accidentally hear one of our records on the radio, I’m always a bit disappointed and I think ‘God, I wish we recorded that with a bit more fucking balls.’ So this is our attempt to redress that with a really live-sounding record. It’s not theoretical, more a feel record.”
The concept of a ‘Suede do punk’ album was first mooted in producer Ed Buller’s kitchen after the band performed at the Roundhouse in 2016. But Anderson and the band weren’t quite ready to take that path back then.
“I said, ‘You should do a punk album,’” recalls Buller. “I think it was too early then. We’ve always talked about doing it, but we’ve never really had the balls to. But Autofiction is the idea of ‘what would Suede sound like if they were to come out in 1979?’ To be honest, what’s really behind this record is the authenticity of the sound of the band. Not gadgetry, but what they sound like when they play together. At the moment, Autofiction is probably my favourite Suede record.”
In these 11 songs, Anderson addresses the past, the future, fatherhood and family, gazing into the darker side of life with his usual flamboyant turn of phrase: “Our lives too will pass and fade like this moment”, goes “Personality Disorder”. “Our clothes are like an anthem for sorrow…”
“I didn’t want to write an album pretending to be a young man,” he explains, “pretending that I have the same challenges as a 20-year-old. I wanted it to be a snapshot of myself in my fifties, and the darkness you sometimes find in that, as you’re plummeting towards old age. I find that terrifying in lots of ways.”
https://www.uncut.co.uk/features/interv ... t7JcgZhaiY
“We’ve got to find ways to be uncomfortable”
Re: “We’ve got to find ways to be uncomfortable”
SEPTEMBER 13, 2022
Brett Anderson of The London Suede Finds New Enthusiasm with ‘Autofiction’ (FEATURE)
By Katherine Yeske Taylor
Brett Anderson, frontman for The London Suede, seems relaxed during a recent Zoom video call from his home in Somerset, England – but his laid-back demeanor contrasts sharply with the edgy persona he presents on his band’s latest album, Autofiction (out September 16th via BMG).
“I describe it as our punk record,” Anderson says of Autofiction. “That doesn’t mean it’s a punk record. It means it’s our punk record. It’s the punk sensibility through the lens of Suede. I think it’s a very exciting record for us to be making at this stage in our career.”
This is the band’s ninth studio album, and it comes nearly thirty years after their debut, Suede (1993), established them as one of the leaders in the Britpop scene. With Autofiction, they prove they’re still as exuberant as they were when they first emerged – though Anderson’s lyrics reveal a certain wistful maturity.
“I wanted the record to be about vulnerability, strangely enough – which is quite an odd thing because it’s [sonically] quite brash – quite a loud record,” Anderson says, “but it’s the vulnerability that I think makes it interesting. I wanted it to be from the point of view of a 55-year-old man. Middle age, strangely, despite all the clichés, contains quite a lot of self-doubt and anxiety that you don’t really have when you’re in your twenties. I wanted to reflect that within the framework of these punky, live-sounding songs.”
Anderson and his bandmates actually finished a version of Autofiction before the COVID-19 pandemic swept the world. When emergency lockdowns were instituted in the U.K., the band used that downtime to write even more songs. In retrospect, Anderson feels this was a blessing. “The record was made much, much stronger by that whole process,” he says. “I think sometimes it’s that ‘turning crisis into opportunity’ trope, isn’t it?”
This situation also allowed the band to approach their songwriting from a completely different angle. “It’s about tearing up our own rule book. It’s about burning it down to the stubble and starting again. I think sometimes you need to do that,” Anderson says. “You need to access that sense of excitement about what you’re doing that can almost only come when you first start.”
In truth, though, Anderson was uninhibited from the moment he first started writing songs forty years ago, when he was in his mid-teens. “Looking back on it, I was pretty reckless, really, because I wasn’t really a musician,” he says. “I never have been a musician, I’ve got to be honest. I’m a faker. I can’t tell you what a C sharp is, and I don’t care. I quite like that. I don’t like musicians that are too muso. I think that’s missing the point. The only point of pop music, or any music, is whether it’s good. And that can be made by a complete fucking idiot who doesn’t know what he’s doing, or it can be made by a musical genius. It doesn’t really matter.”
Anderson came to this realization soon after the band formed in London in 1989: “It was annoying that Suede couldn’t sound like the hit bands of the time – and after a while, you realize that’s a strength. You only need to sound like yourself. I like bands that sound like they can only make one music, and that’s their own music.”
The London Suede’s unique angular-yet-melodic sound certainly connected with listeners: with hits such as “Animal Nitrate,” “Stay Together,” “Beautiful Ones,” they became one of the most popular bands in Britain in the 1990s, and have remained beloved ever since.
Even so, “I never really felt like a fully-fledged member of the music industry,” Anderson says. “I always feel like we’re in transit, like we’re heading somewhere but we’re never quite there yet. I think that’s quite a good state of mind, because I never feel satisfied with what we’ve done. I never listen back [to Suede songs] and think, ‘Oh, that’s perfect.’ I think as soon as you arrive at that point, there’s a kind of artistic death in that.”
In fact, Anderson says, he’s always striving for a certain imperfection, “Flaws are what give you personality. All my favorite art is slightly flawed,” he says. “I’m not a perfect singer. I’m not a perfect musician. I’m not able to sing in that perfect pop style, [but] I don’t even really like good voices. They don’t interest me. I like broken, bad voices. I sometimes think my voice isn’t broken and bad enough. I’d like to have a bit more rough edges.”
As a result, when Anderson creates his vocal melodies, “I’m stretching my voice. I’m trying to find that sweet spot between it being unlistenable and it being boring – there’s a sweet spot there where you’re using your voice in an interesting way.”
With a laugh, he describes how this approach can go awry, though: “Often, my wife will overhear me writing and she’ll be like, ‘What the fuck was that all about?’ Me shrieking. It’s quite unmusical, in a funny sort of way, and then I turn it into music later.”
Beyond paying close attention to the sound of his voice, Anderson also puts a lot of care into the messages he’s trying to convey with his lyrics, which are often oblique yet poetic. “Generally, I’ve always disliked music and art that’s too obvious. I always come at it from a slightly slanted point of view,” he says.
Anderson’s enthusiasm for finding new and innovative ways to make music is, he says, what drives him to continue. “I love creating. It’s a real challenge,” he says. “And why not create? We’re not here for very long on this Earth, and I don’t see the point in wasting your time. And I like to try and make the world a slightly better place, in my own tiny little way.”
Given their hitmaking history, it’s safe to say that The London Suede have brought more than a small amount of joy to listeners. But Anderson says his expectations for the band are modest these days, because “I don’t think we’ll ever achieve the success that we had in the past. That just isn’t going to happen because we’re not part of the mainstream anymore. It doesn’t matter if we make the greatest record ever made. We’re too old. We’re beyond that stage. But the funny thing is, it’s really artistically quite an exciting point when we suddenly realized that we could do what we wanted, as long as it was good.”
And with that in mind, Anderson has a simple wish for the fans who’ve stuck with the band and will give Autofiction a listen: “I’d like them to come away saying, ‘I fucking love that.’ That’s what I want.”
https://glidemagazine.com/280022/brett- ... wT1QTk1fnI
Brett Anderson of The London Suede Finds New Enthusiasm with ‘Autofiction’ (FEATURE)
By Katherine Yeske Taylor
Brett Anderson, frontman for The London Suede, seems relaxed during a recent Zoom video call from his home in Somerset, England – but his laid-back demeanor contrasts sharply with the edgy persona he presents on his band’s latest album, Autofiction (out September 16th via BMG).
“I describe it as our punk record,” Anderson says of Autofiction. “That doesn’t mean it’s a punk record. It means it’s our punk record. It’s the punk sensibility through the lens of Suede. I think it’s a very exciting record for us to be making at this stage in our career.”
This is the band’s ninth studio album, and it comes nearly thirty years after their debut, Suede (1993), established them as one of the leaders in the Britpop scene. With Autofiction, they prove they’re still as exuberant as they were when they first emerged – though Anderson’s lyrics reveal a certain wistful maturity.
“I wanted the record to be about vulnerability, strangely enough – which is quite an odd thing because it’s [sonically] quite brash – quite a loud record,” Anderson says, “but it’s the vulnerability that I think makes it interesting. I wanted it to be from the point of view of a 55-year-old man. Middle age, strangely, despite all the clichés, contains quite a lot of self-doubt and anxiety that you don’t really have when you’re in your twenties. I wanted to reflect that within the framework of these punky, live-sounding songs.”
Anderson and his bandmates actually finished a version of Autofiction before the COVID-19 pandemic swept the world. When emergency lockdowns were instituted in the U.K., the band used that downtime to write even more songs. In retrospect, Anderson feels this was a blessing. “The record was made much, much stronger by that whole process,” he says. “I think sometimes it’s that ‘turning crisis into opportunity’ trope, isn’t it?”
This situation also allowed the band to approach their songwriting from a completely different angle. “It’s about tearing up our own rule book. It’s about burning it down to the stubble and starting again. I think sometimes you need to do that,” Anderson says. “You need to access that sense of excitement about what you’re doing that can almost only come when you first start.”
In truth, though, Anderson was uninhibited from the moment he first started writing songs forty years ago, when he was in his mid-teens. “Looking back on it, I was pretty reckless, really, because I wasn’t really a musician,” he says. “I never have been a musician, I’ve got to be honest. I’m a faker. I can’t tell you what a C sharp is, and I don’t care. I quite like that. I don’t like musicians that are too muso. I think that’s missing the point. The only point of pop music, or any music, is whether it’s good. And that can be made by a complete fucking idiot who doesn’t know what he’s doing, or it can be made by a musical genius. It doesn’t really matter.”
Anderson came to this realization soon after the band formed in London in 1989: “It was annoying that Suede couldn’t sound like the hit bands of the time – and after a while, you realize that’s a strength. You only need to sound like yourself. I like bands that sound like they can only make one music, and that’s their own music.”
The London Suede’s unique angular-yet-melodic sound certainly connected with listeners: with hits such as “Animal Nitrate,” “Stay Together,” “Beautiful Ones,” they became one of the most popular bands in Britain in the 1990s, and have remained beloved ever since.
Even so, “I never really felt like a fully-fledged member of the music industry,” Anderson says. “I always feel like we’re in transit, like we’re heading somewhere but we’re never quite there yet. I think that’s quite a good state of mind, because I never feel satisfied with what we’ve done. I never listen back [to Suede songs] and think, ‘Oh, that’s perfect.’ I think as soon as you arrive at that point, there’s a kind of artistic death in that.”
In fact, Anderson says, he’s always striving for a certain imperfection, “Flaws are what give you personality. All my favorite art is slightly flawed,” he says. “I’m not a perfect singer. I’m not a perfect musician. I’m not able to sing in that perfect pop style, [but] I don’t even really like good voices. They don’t interest me. I like broken, bad voices. I sometimes think my voice isn’t broken and bad enough. I’d like to have a bit more rough edges.”
As a result, when Anderson creates his vocal melodies, “I’m stretching my voice. I’m trying to find that sweet spot between it being unlistenable and it being boring – there’s a sweet spot there where you’re using your voice in an interesting way.”
With a laugh, he describes how this approach can go awry, though: “Often, my wife will overhear me writing and she’ll be like, ‘What the fuck was that all about?’ Me shrieking. It’s quite unmusical, in a funny sort of way, and then I turn it into music later.”
Beyond paying close attention to the sound of his voice, Anderson also puts a lot of care into the messages he’s trying to convey with his lyrics, which are often oblique yet poetic. “Generally, I’ve always disliked music and art that’s too obvious. I always come at it from a slightly slanted point of view,” he says.
Anderson’s enthusiasm for finding new and innovative ways to make music is, he says, what drives him to continue. “I love creating. It’s a real challenge,” he says. “And why not create? We’re not here for very long on this Earth, and I don’t see the point in wasting your time. And I like to try and make the world a slightly better place, in my own tiny little way.”
Given their hitmaking history, it’s safe to say that The London Suede have brought more than a small amount of joy to listeners. But Anderson says his expectations for the band are modest these days, because “I don’t think we’ll ever achieve the success that we had in the past. That just isn’t going to happen because we’re not part of the mainstream anymore. It doesn’t matter if we make the greatest record ever made. We’re too old. We’re beyond that stage. But the funny thing is, it’s really artistically quite an exciting point when we suddenly realized that we could do what we wanted, as long as it was good.”
And with that in mind, Anderson has a simple wish for the fans who’ve stuck with the band and will give Autofiction a listen: “I’d like them to come away saying, ‘I fucking love that.’ That’s what I want.”
https://glidemagazine.com/280022/brett- ... wT1QTk1fnI