Prince Charmings
When grunge was king, ‘The London’ Suede set the stage for the ’90s British Invasion.
Originally published for Coachella’s Camp Magazine, 2011 » Written with my friend, fellow Suede fan, Elaine Reyes
I recall shamelessly squealing at my friend’s television. He had some bootleg VHS tapes— Top of the Pops performances, handheld live footage, videos never played by the fading promise of MTV. The video quality was poor — you could tell it had been dubbed a few times over, but this didn’t prevent the British sass and snobbish handsome faces of Brett Anderson and Bernard Butler from shining through.
I was eventually dubbed my own copy, and with this slightly more degraded version of these precious moving images, I became the envy of my friends I was lured in by the velvet curtains, the unbuttoned top, and the androgynous dancing of a lead singer who might have made a better girl than me. What kept me coming back was the precisely-tuned guitar rock and whip-smart lyrics that told the story of a UK underground I could only dream of, yet felt immediately akin to. Suede (“The London” came later, and only for the U.S.) was one of those rare bands that made an indelible mark and set the bar for my musical tastes. Songs like “Beautiful Ones” and “Trash” became frequent faves at the local alternative clubs, where we danced in a circle of friends, mouthing the words and pointing at one other. I realized you didn’t need a mosh pit to have an anthem, and that songs can be dark and dangerous in a different way.
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For Suede, it all started with a listing in NME’s October 28, 1989 issue:
“Young guitar player needed by London-based band. Smiths, Commotions, Bowie, PSB’s. No Musos. Some things are more important than ability. Call Brett.”
This charming little ad was answered by none other than Butler, who joined Anderson, Mat Osman, and Justine Frischmann (later front-woman for Elastica). Suede 1.0 was incepted.
By 1992, Suede had released what is now cited as their breakthrough single, a glammy slice of Smiths-meets-Marc Bolan pop perfection called “The Drowners.” At the time, American grunge still dominated the airwaves. But, like a pebble thrown into a still pond, Suede began to cut a path for yet another British Invasion, one where Oasis and Blur would play the part of the Beatles and the Stones.
Anderson claims the group was “never really a part of Britpop,” but admits that the group is often cited as its instigator. “I just think that it’s so belittling to label us like that.”
Britpop or not, Suede spent the next few years on the UK charts, peaking worldwide with their third album, Coming Up. Through the next two records, the band felt the ebb and flow of their craft amidst the waters of commercial success and began to feel that itching sensation that comes with questioning a band’s longevity. In 2003, though still beloved in their home of England, Suede played what they called their final five shows in London each one dedicated to an album — followed by one last performance to close out the year. But it was only a matter of time until they, like many of their contemporaries, would resurface.
“I think there’s always nostalgia for good music,” Anderson concludes. “If it was good then, people are going to want to hear it again.”
Originally published for Coachella’s Camp Magazine in April 2011.
