These Are The Suede Songs

Every Suede song. Track by Track. Still on health hiatus. I like and follow as @bey0ndtheoutskirts.

[suedesongs]

These Are The Suede Songs 004: To The Birds/My Insatiable One

When one mentions Suede, one of the first things that will inevitably come up, is the sheer strength of their B-sides, which stand shoulder to shoulder with some of the greatest A-Sides of their contemporaries, even surpassing them. Perhaps it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to argue they even eclipse the quality of their own A-Sides at times.

Not to wear out the comparison, but this is another factor Suede have in common with The Smiths; more on that later. As a business decision, it’s certainly clever. It’s obvious, but a factor many artists fail to consider, and that’s keeping sales of singles consistently high alongside album sales. Whilst in the 1970s it may have been commonplace for artists to discard just another album track as a B-side, keeping the spheres of album and single purchases entirely separate, towards the eighties and into the early nineties, it became the norm to include specifically recorded tracks as the flip side, as the gap between the single and album markets closed. This was of course due to wider societal shifts; the singles charts were typically seen as the realm of younger consumers with less disposable income and more freely roaming eyes, and albums of proper, “grown-up” music aficionados. There was always a subtly gendered dichotomy at play here, too, which fortunately as time went on, reduced significantly though never quite went away. Women who are music enthusiasts, like myself, often have our love for the artform reduced to a mere frivolity, whilst our male counterparts are taken more seriously, even if they have much less to say on the subject. We’re “singles” people. Men are “albums” people. Quality B-sides, though, legitimised the single in the eyes of many, and whilst they should be considered an essential part of pop music and pop culture no matter the contents of the other side, proved that a single can be a worthy purchase if only to hear the bonus tracks you won’t hear anywhere else. To this day, it’s still something of a joke among musicians and music fans alike. I remember watching an episode of the cartoon Steven Universe as a teenager, where the titular character’s father Greg, a musician, dismisses a song he wrote and views as inferior as “just a B-side”, and I think this is representative of the general attitude towards them, which bands like Suede and The Smiths, and even dare I say Oasis, were essential in dispelling.

The first of our songs today isn’t technically a B-side at all, rather the double A side of The Drowners, included on the 12 inch release: To The Birds.

This track started life in the dying throes of Suede Mk.1, shortly before Frischmann’s departure and after Gilbert’s recruitment, as The Bike Tragedy, owing its title presumably to the opening line, “Don’t take your life ‘cos your bicycle won’t fly”. It’s an ode to those small glimmers of optimism in otherwise bleak times, whilst touching on the bread and butter of Suede lyrics - infatuation and sacrifice and submission to love. Brett Anderson writes from the point of view of our protagonist, in a state of despair, watching and singing to, as the title suggests, the birds at his side, or, perhaps the woman he sees “by the window”. This takes on a double meaning, of singing to literal birds (the animal) or to a woman, or women (“birds” being a colloquial, usually Estuary-ism referring to women, often considered to be demeaning, though commonly used in English slang, indicating the shift towards shying away from flowery music-isms and more towards the gritty, often vulgar, language Anderson heard from those around him throughout his childhood and early adulthood). As To The Birds became a pivotal part of Suede’s live set around 1992, in fact, yet another layer of meaning is added. There’s a pretty equal gender split in terms of Suede’s fanbase, though there was always the vague air of them being viewed as a “girls’” band. Mat Osman recalls seeing advertisements for club nights in London in the 1990s, listing music from the blokey Britpop lot of the day, and it reading plainly “Sorry girls, no Suede”, and taking a great deal of pride in this, in being seen as a “girls’” band, separate to the rampant misogyny, leeriness and toxic masculinity so omnipresent in so much British music of the time. With this in mind, despite the obvious old-fashioned connotations of the word, Anderson himself is singing “to the birds” at his side, and that would perhaps save him from a life of office drudgery. God forbid, of course.

Seeing “her” by the window has this effect, also. We can take this as mere innocent love for a neighbour or friend, or perhaps a partner, with whom our protagonist is infatuated with, whether platonically or romantically, and will later in the song cross the bustling traffic, and submit themselves entirely to their feelings. However there’s another, more seedy and perhaps Suede-esque meaning, which would probably be more obvious coming from the mouth of somebody like Pulp’s Jarvis Cocker (love him though I do), and that’s one of sexual voyeurism. Anderson is a master at creating these multiple, layered meanings that explore the contradictions of our lives and of the human condition. His lyrics are almost a kind of poetic rorschach test. In this sense, To The Birds contains such powerful, vivid imagery, but each and every person who listens to it will come away with a different interpretation.

Onto My Insatiable One, which is the first many think of when Suede B-Sides are mentioned. It’s a melancholic breakup song, and it’s been said, by the man himself even, that Anderson wrote the lyrics from the perspective of Justine Frischmann, writing from the point of view of an ex in the same way as he would on Head Music’s He’s Gone years later, but that hasn’t stopped interpretations of the song hovering around homoeroticism for some fans, the ambiguity and use of a male pronoun being viewed in the same way as it was on The Drowners. Anderson has explicitly refuted this and has positioned Frischmann as the POV character, and has stated that the song is about himself as viewed through her eyes. Personally I’ve always sided with Anderson’s description, but I find his attitude somewhat dismissive. Artistic intent is one thing and cannot be ignored, but to tell people, straight-up, that their interpretation is wrong is rather harsh. When a work gets put out into the world, it becomes the audiences’, there for them to enjoy and interpret however they see fit. That doesn’t devalue an artist’s original intention, however, both can co-exist.

My Insatiable One was written, apparently, unusually quickly and with surprising ease. Bernard Butler and Anderson apparently wrote it in around an hour, and it was a rare occurrence of a song just appearing fully formed. Like the previous songs discussed, the instrumental swaggers and moans, which makes a sexual interpretation all the more likely, and I find it hard to believe that Anderson and Butler were not aware of this. Lyrically, it’s simple and short, but there’s still evidence of the Suede tropes we would later come to know and love (or loathe, if you hate fun, I suppose). We have mentions of “the high life”, possibly a reference to Frischmann’s wealth, abd mentions of escalators - a fixture of the London Underground, cementing the use of imagery based around, not Britain, but around London specifically. This is another aspect that sets Suede apart, and why I refute the Britpop label when it’s haphazardly slapped onto them. There’s nothing celebratory about this portrayal of London life. It’s rather sad, in fact. It’s merely observational. Anderson said that he wanted to write about the life that he knew, which entailed “standing in dole queues, staring at the dandruff on the neck of the man in front of you, and feeling the throb of last night’s hangover.” You can really feel this with My Insatiable One. If you’ve ever been on the Underground with a bastard of a hangover, you’ll get it. The song conjures up imagery of standing there as you descend (or ascend), rubbing your temples, swaying slightly, focusing on not being sick, whilst the throngs of commuters and clueless tourists continue on the Merry-Go-Round that is Britain’s capital. I’ve definitely been there. It’s not a romantic or glamorous image. It’s not even cool in a gritty, grotty kind of way. It’s just a bit sad, and that’s what Suede sing about. It’s not romantic or cool, they’re not even trying to find beauty in it, they’re just talking about it. A world we know and live in.

Mat Osman puts it perfectly when discussing this song in the 2018 documentary The Insatiable Ones by Mike Christie, when he mentions Brett Anderson using words that you’d never normally come across in pop music, such as “leotard”. It’s really just a shame that he chose to rhyme it with a slur. I don’t hold this against Anderson whatsoever, it’s an unfortunate fact that a certain slur that rhymes with the word above was in common usage at the time, and if, as we’ve established, the lyrics are from Justine Frischmann’s point of view, whilst I can’t say for certain, when you consider that Elastica’s original name and the title of one of their songs is derived from another similarly derogatory term, one that rhymes with elastic, it’s likely this word was in her vernacular. It’s a relatively minor transgression in the grand scheme of things that musicians have done, and I’m not about to make a “Your Fave Is Problematic”-esque post or call for Suede and Elastica to be “canceled”, far from it. However, if I didn’t point this out, I would have somebody point it out for me, and it’s important to have an open dialogue about aspects of art you find to be troubling or have aged poorly. Whilst immediately writing something off as “problematic” is harmful, so is consuming everything you watch, read or listen to entirely uncritically, and defend absolutely every decision the artists have made. This is what this project is all about. I adore Suede, but I’m not exactly here to fawn over them. At least not all the time.

Around this time, Suede were not only making waves amongst the public and the music press, but were being championed by their own inspirations, notably David Bowie, and Morrissey. That’s right, Morrissey was an early champion of Suede, and even covered My Insatiable One as part of his live set. Legend has it that he was spotted at the back of a gig, scribbling down the lyrics in a notebook, though it’s more likely Moz was introduced to the song by his guitarist, Boz Boorer, who recalls buying the 12 inch of The Drowners and rehearsing it. Boorer even mentioned having to detune his guitar by a semi-tone in order to play it.

Anderson recalls being handed a bootleg of Morrissey’s performance of My Insatiable One, and it feeling rather like a full-circle moment. Of course, as we’ve mentioned, The Smiths are one of Suede’s biggest influences, and this can even possibly be connected to the quality of their B-sides, though this time did see Suede and Anderson in particular attempting to distance themselves from Morrissey. Of course, it was around this time that he started to adopt some slightly troubling imagery, based around 1970s skinheads, and some might argue, the National Front - a neo-fascist political party characterised by racist and homophobic violence and pedaling antisemitic conspiracy theories. Anderson spoke of this as just a crass adoption of 1970s imagery, but disparaged Morrissey’s music and backing band, but hindsight is 20:20, and it would later turn out that Morrissey has some incredibly conservative views, and some which could be interpreted as racist. It’s argued that this was a shift that none of his fans could have seen coming, but it’s no real surprise that he would go down this route. Writers of colour have pointed out statements made in the 1980s such as “I don’t hate Pakistanis, I just dislike them immensely”, and talk of conspiracy theories about the BBC trying to push a “black agenda” in music. This, of course, went over the heads of white indie fans, but during a time that we as a nation were becoming more aware of racial, sexual and class inequality, it was probably a good move to distance themselves from him.

[suedesongs]

These Are The Suede Songs 003: The Drowners

1991. The University of London Union Ticket Office. Enter one Simon Gilbert, stage right. Gilbert, a twenty-five year old punk from Stratford-Upon-Avon, has just heard a demo tape from a band, supposedly one managed by, among a couple of other characters, his colleague Ricky Gervais. Gervais was, at this point, working at ULU and moonlighting in a band, as Brett Anderson recalls, called Son Of Bleeper. This was long before he would become better known for his “comedy” - and troubling views on transgender rights.

Gilbert asked Gervais if he could join, to which he was told he couldn’t “because he didn’t have flares and he didn’t have a fringe”.

Thank goodness, he would go on to ask another of Suede’s managers and secured a rehearsal. It would take six months of Gilbert believing he was on a trial period to realise he was officially in the band.

This was monumental in Suede’s musical journey. Gone was the faulty drum machine which would constantly break down, and here was a proper full-time drummer, and the final push to shake off the unpleasant spectre of Baggy forever, and to comfortably slide into something tighter, more violent, sexier. Gilbert’s drumming is melodic and calculated, whilst at the same time booming and tribal. It’s the kind of drumming that fills stadiums, and what a better way to introduce Suede to the world at large than with his iconic drum fill on ‘The Drowners’.

It was around this time, too, that Justine Frischmann would depart the band. Anderson recalls to Dave Thompson that, as Butler was increasingly developing his playing to incorporate both lead and rhythm at the same time, this, sadly, made her feel her place in the band was becoming somewhat redundant. Frischmann herself remarks that it was “better to be Pete Best than Linda McCartney.”

Another reason for her exit was the shift in the band’s musical direction. Frischmann increasingly felt that songs were becoming too long and overwrought. Though she would, fantastically, go on to create short, spiky post-punk with Elastica later in the decade.

On January 2nd 1992, Suede attracted the attention of Saul Galpern, the operator of Nude Records, whilst playing at The Venue in New Cross in a show under the name “On For ‘92”. He offered them £3,132 for a two single deal.

In April of that year, Melody Maker made the bold choice to place Suede on their front cover, proclaiming them the “Best New Band in Britain”. This cover has gone on to gain an almost infamy amongst Suede and their fans. Anderson, in the 2022 BBC Documentary Rock Family Trees: The Birth of Cool Britannia, refers to it in disparaging terms, likening it to winning a competition in school as a child.

However less discussed is the contents of the article itself. Not only were Suede described as ‘The Best New Band in Britain’, but as “the most audacious, mysterious, sexy, absurd, perverse, glamorous, hilarious, honest, cocky, melodramatic, mesmerising band you’re ever likely to fall in love with.”

And this leads us back, finally, to The Drowners.

Released on May 11th 1992 as a double A Side with To The Birds, The Drowners peaked at a not insignificant number 49 on the UK charts at the time of release, however it would later go on to hit an impressive Number 17 in July 2023 for one week as a thirtieth anniversary reissue, albeit in a time when chart positions don’t mean all that much.

Suede would often be touted as some kind of antithesis to the Grunge which dominated the airwaves in the early 1990s, however, The Drowners’ opening chords could, in some sense, be described as “grungy”. They’re hard and powerful and dirty. Not dirty in the greasy-haired grunge sense, but in a way that oozes sex. This is what truly sets Suede apart.

In the Channel 4 Documentary Opening Shot, Everett True, at the time assistant editor at Melody Maker, explains: “the critics loved them [Suede] (...) because they are exactly the same as everything they grew up with. They hark back to an era of rock and roll that critics understand, 1993 down the front at the Hammersmith Odeon watching David Bowie.” I feel that this perspective, whilst it may have some truth to it, is rather an oversimplification and focuses primarily on Suede’s image (cobbled together from charity shops and largely consisting of whatever they could find). Suede only have as much in common with Bowie as any of their contemporaries, it feels like a rather lazy comparison.

Anderson’s vocals have once again assumed new inflections and has a great deal more character, not to mention confidence. Listening to the Rocking Horse Demo, which is a much rawer, grittier take, the first thing that sticks out are, indeed, the vocals. They’re sung in near falsetto, they’re a little girlish and coquettish. Inviting, sexy. If there’s one way that The Drowners can be described, it’s certainly sexy. The rhythm of the guitar line, the pounding drums, the pleading of Anderson’s vocals.

There’s the ambiguity of it all, too, as Anderson describes how “we kiss in his room”. Is this the room of a third party? A male partner? Or is he singing from a woman’s perspective? It’s kept completely open, and this ambiguity is something that will become a theme throughout Suede’s catalogue.

Interestingly, two music videos were shot. One for the UK market by Lindy Heymann, which depicts the band flouncing around a white soundstage intercut with footage of Anderson and an unnamed girl walking around a manky railway bridge in Camden (now a pilgrimage spot for avid Suede fans, complete with an unofficial blue plaque), and another for the US market, depicting a kind of frantic gig scene with fans, real fans, clamoring for a piece of the boys on the stage, before it devolves into a foam party. I feel the latter captures the song considerably better. It's so thrilling, sexy, dirty and primal. It's everything Suede are, and everything that drew me to them.

At the time of writing, this is the song that Anderson uses as his excuse to do his crowd walk, wading through a sea of adoring fans. It's fitting, with the use of the “we” pronoun (another characteristic of Suede lyrics), creating a convivial experience. Whilst the power dynamic between band and crowd will always place the band upon a higher footing, oftentimes literally, at this moment he becomes one with his audience. It's also a chance for Mat Osman and Richard Oakes to really shine.

Although, the production on The Drowners, and Suede’s back catalogue as a whole, I feel does Osman rather poorly. He's a truly accomplished bass player who creates some truly incredible baselines which compliment and tie together the songs so perfectly, and combined with Gilbert’s ferocious drumming, it's truly a match made in rhythm section heaven. The bass, though is so often disappointingly low in the mix, and so can only be heard with the highest quality headphones.

Anderson admits part of this would likely be due to how he listened to music throughout his adolescence, on a cheap sound system which cut out the low tones. The recent remasters rectify this somewhat, but it still rather feels a shame.

All in all, The Drowners is a delightful, sleazy, beautiful introduction to the world of a band who still aren't given the credit they're due.

If you enjoy what I write, please consider buying me a coffee! https://ko-fi.com/suedesongs

[suedesongs]

These Are The Suede Songs 002: Be My God/Art

The first dedicated post of this project, and the de facto first Suede single. Only 500 copies were produced, and the majority of these were destroyed, as the band weren’t at all happy with the result.

In fact, According to Dave Thompson, Justine Frischmann recalls keeping one copy for nostalgia’s sake. One side had “Fuck Fuck” written on it, and the other, “Double fuck”. It’s not hard to see why they might have disliked the overall result, but to destroy the majority of available copies seems slightly extreme, when you consider that these might be the first Suede songs that are actually…good? 

Be My God/Art was recorded on RML, barely a label, and one that has absolutely no online trail. Mat Osman remembers it was the endeavor of a well-to-do schoolmate down in Haywards Heath who most likely had some money to throw around, and so financed bands at his rural studio. This was most likely Curtis Shwartz, who shared some photos of this session to his Instagram in 2020. Apparently, Brett was most diligent with tea-making. Videos of these sessions are also briefly featured in the BBC Rock Family Trees: The Birth of Cool Brittania documentary from 2022, which is available on YouTube and highly recommended! 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Curtis Schwartz (@curtisschwartz)

Gone is the drum machine for these sessions, and up to the drum kit strode midlander Justin Welch, later the drummer for Elastica, and more recently of Aircooled, who were given a support slot on the Scottish dates of Suede’s 2023 Autofiction tour. Brett Anderson recalls Justin playing ferociously, and driving even more so, almost killing them by spinning out his car on Bethnal Green Road on one occasion. He has clearly been forgiven, as eagle-eyed fans will spot he’s been driving for Suede on their last couple of tours. 

Welch’s tenure with Suede was to be short-lived. As drummers tend to be, he was in several other bands, and left amicably to join Crawley outfit Spitfire. 

‘Art’ is quite a nice, groovy track. Anderson’s vocals begin to show confidence and, and there’s a certain snarl he’s adopted by this point. It’s an entertaining, catchy listen. Still erring into baggy at points, there’s a little more edge this time around, even if the lyrics remain rather empty. 

I do, genuinely, seek this track out sometimes, when I’m on the bus, or sitting at my desk at work. It’s the first Suede song that could really be described as danceable. My main gripe with this one, however, is those vari-sped vocals. This, as any Suede fan knows, isn’t the first time they’d make this mistake. 

‘Be My God’ on the other hand, is slow, and again the baggy influences are stronger, but this time, it’s actually good. This feels like everything Natural Born Servant should have been. 

This song is often mislabelled on bootlegs as “C’mon C’mon C’mon” due to the repeated refrain, and it’s probably the first Suede track that can be considered…sexy. Anderson breathing “c’mon, have me” is undeniably sensual; an auditory come-hither. The BDSM imagery is less restrained, too, as he pants “I’ll be your dog/be my god”. Despite it hinting at becoming Venus In Furs at any moment, it’s sadly a bit too slow, plodding and musically simplistic to fulfill this wholly, and it still suffers from the virginal feeling of other earlier tracks. Dave Thompson describes this as “a ‘your place or mine’ invitation that slid sex back into the warped equation of “drugs and rock and roll”, which is a fantastic description, though I feel this does, unfortunately, lack all three key elements of sex, drugs and rock and roll.

[suedesongs]

These Are The Suede Songs 001: Early Recordings

Suede’s early trajectory is often described, especially by the band themselves, as “the world’s longest overnight success”. Four years of slogging the toilets of London, from playing humiliating gigs to, on one occasion, nobody at all, to appearing on the front page of Melody Maker, may sound quick, but in musical terms can feel like a lifetime. This was during the era of musical trends coming and going in rapid succession, a little like fashion microtrends today. Within those four years, Baggy and the Second Summer of Love, The Stone Roses and Spike Island, raves and ecstasy,  made way for American grunge - precisely the opposite, and amongst this cultural shift, quietly grafting their way, were Suede. 

Whilst there aren’t a great deal of surviving bootlegs or demos from this era, I still felt incredibly compelled to cover what I could find in a dedicated post. Research was rather fruitless at times, and I found much of the writing on this period of the band’s career to be marred (cough) by the insistence of male writers to throw all of their energy into a somewhat troubling obsession with what is perceived as the infamous Anderson-Frischmann-Albarn “love triangle”. I took to Twitter (or, blegh, X) to vent my frustrations, and received a reply from my friend Tasha who, much more eloquently than I, expressed how Justine Frischmann is viewed as merely an object in an interpersonal drama, rather than a fleshed out musician in her own right. Are women doomed to simply be accessories to their male counterparts? I find this disheartening when Frischmann is so integral to not only the Suede “story”, but, in my opinion, to what would go on to become the sound we all know, and love.

My analysis will frequently include my personal opinions, and should not be taken as definitive. Where necessary to the discussion of the songs, tidbits of info may be provided in order to “set the scene”. This series should not be used as a biography, but instead an exploration of a body of work. It will be by no means objective. I’m a massive Suede fan. I’ve travelled up and down the country for gigs, queued from as early as 6am for a coveted barrier spot, my cat is (in a roundabout way) named after an obscure Bloodsports-era B Side. I’m a self-professed fangirl. Having said this, I’ll do my best to not let this get in the way. And with all of the preliminaries seen to, we begin with,

Just A Girl (Anderson/Frischmann)

Though credited to Anderson-Butler, this light, airy folk ballad is reportedly the oldest surviving Suede tune, dating far before Bernard Butler joined. The version that appears online, and on the deluxe edition of the debut, is likely a home demo recorded by Brett Anderson and Justine Frischmann. 

Anderson, in his memoir Coal Black Mornings, explains the titular girl, “north of England way”, is a Middlesborough-born Chemistry student called Emily, with whom he shared a flat on Daisy Bank road in Longsight, Manchester, in the year after he moved from Haywards Heath to the rainy industrial Northern city. ‘Just A Girl’ really couldn’t be set in any city other than Manchester. It describes the beginnings of a fond friendship, perhaps more, distinctly against the backdrop of a harsh, wet winter, overlooked by grey skies and red-bricked former warehouses. It’s the first, blushing, awkward flushes of young love. It’s leaving your University lectures at half past three when it’s already pitch dark. It’s when you say something you shouldn’t to the person you fancy after a few drinks. It’s huddling under the covers to stay warm, the excitement of closeness and companionship. 

I typically have a complete, and near visceral, aversion to anything, musically or otherwise, that can be described as “twee”. Just A Girl, I feel, does undeniably dangle its harmonies and lyrical depictions of turning the page of one’s favourite book perilously close to the jaws of this accusation.Yet, I simply cannot bring myself to dislike it. Whilst musically competent, if a little naive, it’s sweet and genuine, and for that, it’s rather lovely. 

There are already some allusions to Anderson’s later lyrical themes; the combination of love and tragedy as he laments how “it could have been so different if we’d only had more time”. Anderson, as we’ll explore, is rarely one to write a straight love song. No matter how they may seem, there is always a thread of tragedy, or drama, which underpins the affair and protects against it veering into saccharine territory. 

For a few years now, I’ve cited the “ashtray eyes and bootlace ties” line to be a direct harbinger of some of Anderson’s later lyrics, most likely thinking of 2011's ‘Brittle Heart’,from his solo album Black Rainbows. However, this is in fact, lifted from Ian Drury’s ‘Sweet Gene Vincent’, more directly alluded to with Anderson and Frischmann lamenting how “Sweet Gene Vincent was never that good”.

According to Anderson, on regular rotation on the turntables of himself, Frischmann and Mat Osman around this time, were a band called The Lilac Time. Quoted in David Barnett’s comprehensive biography, Love And Poison, he describes them as “quite light, leftfield pop sort of thing (...) lots of major seventh chords”, and this influence is abundantly clear on ‘Just A Girl’, and would have possibly done even more had it made it to the studio around this time. 

Frischmann’s, when she and Anderson met, record collection was largely comprised of folk music. In an irritating display of arrogance, Anderson insisted that these records would “no longer be listened to '' with him now in the equation. This decision would, of course, prove seminal in the trajectory of Frischmann’s music career in Elastica, as Anderson introduced her to spiky post-punk, however I find this to be rather ironic considering the undeniable folky nature of this particular song.

‘Just A Girl’ would later be re-recorded by Anderson and Richard Oakes, possibly around 1994, though reports of this vary, but not released to the public until a B-side was required for the single ‘Attitude’ in 2003. More on that (much) later, of course. 

Natural Born Servant (Anderson-Butler) 

‘Natural Born Servant’ is the actual first song in our timeline to be written by Anderson-Butler, and sees Suede as close to flirting with Baggy as they ever would. 

As a result, this one comes across as rather trite, not to mention overlong, clocking in at six minutes and twenty seconds. 

During my initial re-listen in my research for this project, I found myself incredibly puzzled as the chugging, Madchester intro spluttered into a half-hearted groove, before realising I’d gotten it entirely confused with a later track, ‘Be My God’. Frischmann shows herself a competent backing vocalist, possibly more so than Anderson. One YouTube commenter, possibly humorously, alludes to him “doing a Phil Oakey”, and there is indeed a resemblance. Anderson’s, however, is more naive, though he can certainly carry a tune and his voice is pleasant and sweet, possibly to the song’s detriment, when one considers the subject matter. 

Much like a large proportion of Suede’s work, ‘...Servant’ sees Anderson dallying with sexual imagery, and more specifically, BDSM imagery. This attempt, however, whilst enjoyable enough, is surprisingly sexless. It’s almost a feat in itself to write about sex in such a decidedly virginal manner, but I’m glad this was a theme he stuck with throughout his lyrics and it hints at greatness yet to come. More interestingly, however, is the use of sexual imagery as a commentary on class struggle. “You’re a natural born servant/this is the time to open your eyes”, can be viewed as a submissive accepting their place, or a working class individual gaining class consciousness and becoming aware of their oppression in society. 

I must say, I’m glad that this was as far as Suede’s relationship with Baggy really went, at least in the recordings I could find and actively listen to. It’s common to speculate of a song like ‘...Servant’ being indicative of a type of “alternate universe” Suede, but I couldn’t disagree more with this. Suede and Baggy just doesn’t work, and they would have always found their sound one way or another. 

Justice (Unknown, possibly Anderson-Frischmann-Butler) 

Surprisingly, this is the only song of this lot that I find myself drawn to the YouTube search bar to listen to out of choice. It’s almost certainly my personal favourite of all of the pieces we’ve covered here.I even found myself lip syncing to the chorus as I wrote this very paragraph! Oddly, I can’t find too much to say about it. It’s a sweet little, possibly even catchy, slice of Jangle pop. One of the thousands of happy-sad breakup songs of the late 1980s and very early 1990s. Anderson likens it to Aztec Camera’s ‘Oblivious’, which is a far, far better citation than the endless Smiths comparisons I once myself fell privy to, which have since become a cliche.  

We again hear Anderson’s vocals not quite having come into themselves yet, there’s a hint of insecurity and hesitancy. They’re so far removed from what we understand as his vocal styling, that one YouTube commenter on the version I found asks if Butler sings vocals. There is present, however, a deep understanding of melody and an undeniable hookiness. I can see myself going back to this one for the odd listen. 

Wonderful Sometimes (Unknown, possibly Anderson-Butler) 

Gary Crowley, the geezer-ish presenter of the Sunday Afternoon show Greater London Radio, was the host of Demo Clash; a competition held each Sunday on the aforementioned radio station. As the title suggests, this was a show where London bands would send in demos, that would go head-to-head in a public vote. As pointed out in Love and Poison, however, this would largely amount to a game of “who has the most mates”. Anderson would later show dismissal, if not outright disdain for ‘Wonderful Sometimes’. In Dave Thompson’s Suede The Next Life, First Time Around, he describes the song as “shit (...) nothing to get interested in. (...) [GLR] was a little local station, and we’re talking about London where everyone’s in a band.” Still, it would end up on a compilation cassette called What The World Is Waiting For compiled by Adrian Gibson, programmer at Powerhaus on Liverpool Road, N1. 

According to the Discogs listing, the idea was to showcase ten up-and-coming bands who were performing at the venue during this time (from a title like that, go figure). There was additionally a launch night at The Powerhaus, and Gibson was interviewed by Crowley to promote the gig. 

As for the song itself? ‘Wonderful Sometimes’ contains a few witty one-liners, “you couldn’t liven us up with a cattle prod” and “i’ve heard of happy ever after / it was just a joke but you could die laughing” particularly stick out. Personally, I quite enjoy “Do I just love you ‘cause you look quite good”, but that’s because, as a young-ish woman and a passionate fan, this is an accusation I’ve had levelled at me in the past, and I know I’m not the only one! 

‘...Sometimes’ is viewed by many as the holy grail of early Suede recordings, but for something so revered, it’s a decent enough piece of music, but it’s nothing special, even in the context of the other songs we’ve covered. Musically, I try to avoid Smiths comparisons, but here it’s unavoidable as the whiff of William, It Was Really Nothing and even some base notes of Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now, is enough to give you a migraine. Butler’s playing really is more Marr-ish than Marr, but drenched and sadistically drowned in a wah-wah pedal at times, eliciting a comparison to Fool’s Gold, though, mercifully, this is over much sooner. 

More excitingly is a noticeable shift in Anderson’s vocal styling, now carrying slightly more confidence and having something of a personality. Here, he’s sounding almost like Robert Smith of The Cure, minus the “Robert Smith-isms”. A deliberately but self-consciously Sussex drawl (The Cure, and Smith, were from up the road from Haywards Heath in Crawley), and a slight nasal intonation. 

Ultimately, I don’t so much understand the hype around this one - the reviews on RateYourMusic are unanimously positive, but it’s a jolly tune and, likely because of that, decidedly un-Suede.