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issue 1 june 2004 |
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| this article |
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| print version |
| blast from the past 1 |
| reprinted here in its entirety for your pleasure is an oldie but a goodie. |
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easily suede |
| they have been called the future of rock’n’roll, the latest manifestation of the british teen dream. but can suede live up to the hype? and can their lead singer, the androgynous brett anderson, come to terms with his sexuality? |
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as brett anderson shows me into his tiny ramshackle west london flat, the strains of acker bilk waft up from his record player. “do you know anything about vera lynn?” he says, stepping over a pile of decidedly shabby coats. “i tried to buy her version of the white cliffs of dover today, but i came back with this instead.” he nods his fringe at the stereo as stranger on the shore fades into nothing. perhaps anderson has discovered irony; one doesn’t expect the lead singer of suede to have such peculiar weaknesses. but then maybe one does. “i like anything,” he says, rather petulantly. “pop music has become all about cool, about kids wearing sunglasses. we were never like that, suede were never cool.” it is a cold, rainy february night, a monday, just a little after seven, bedsitland. these three small rooms are where anderson, 26, has lived for the past two years, during which time he has unwittingly – some would undeservedly – become the most idolized pop star in britain. he has recently acquired a larger home in north london, but for reasons of convenience we are sitting here in notting hill, crouched on ricketly chairs, drinking instant coffee from cocktail glasses and trying to ignore the intermittent comings and goings of his neighbours. tonight, like many before it, anderson is surrounded by paper-thin walls. |
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2004 suede fanzine.
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