Suede - the best Britpop band that weren't and other failures

I know its been a while but I really haven't had much new news to bring you. The brilliant autumn leaves and colours are beginning to yield to the wind and rain and becoming a brown mush at your feet. Even the welcoming trees of Ropner Park are now beginning to look like bony fingers, in my case usually the index and middle fingers of a hand, extended. 

Not one to waste the opportunity for a euphemism, I am currently enjoying unlimited free time with no income so see Blessay's passim for what that's like, suffice to say that the online job market is even more haphazard than previously. I don't think I'm adequately qualified for babysitting, bouncing or brochure distribution opportunities which is a pity as these are by far the three most frequent assignments that appear on the less than perfect recommendations sections of the various jobsites. 

Yes, it's set back our relocation project but Stacey was coming over for Christmas anyway, as it was too close to the date to put in a formal application, so she'll be here in a couple of weeks for the Yule season and Vince is still doing fantastically and giving me reason to get up and make breakfast every morning, followed by online job hunting with Christmas and Vintage music channels playing in the background to force a mood of festivity if none exists - but that's a little harsh, I'm nothing if not a Christmas Kid and it doesn't take much to get me in the mood - even The Cheeky Girls in November will do it, which is handy. 

Anyway, spare time in the day allows me to get more tasks done so it frees up time in the evening to catch up on TV and movies I've missed in the intervening four years. I finally caught up with 'The World's End' the other day - Simon Pegg and Nick Frost's final part of the Cornetto Trilogy which started with Shaun of the Dead and followed up with Hot Fuzz.  It follows a man-child and his mature friends as they attempt to relive the best night of their youthful lives, which the lead character never get over, and complete the 12 pub crawl in their home town which culminated in the famous 'World's End'.  There is a sci-fi sub-plot but as usual the strongest observations are on how society, friendships and life itself changes or not over 20 intervening years.  Brilliant dialogue, an amazing soundtrack (more on this soon) and tremendous performances all round elevate it over the typical British comedy but I found it very close to home in places, which is maybe the point. 

I would give any film two thumbs up if it has The Beautiful South and Primal Scream on the soundtrack but Suede too...

For two years, Suede strode across the British pop landscape like a lone colossus, sure Take That were doing there thing but for shoegazing indy kids like myself there was only one game in town and it was the fey, proto-emo, proto-britpop boys from south London - Brett, Bernard and Co. 

The first album, self-titled, gave us a glimpse of the swaggering, emotional literacy and lyricism of Brett Anderson's vocals and writing but married (figuratively) to the soaring musical orchestration led by Bernard Butler, the best British guitarist since Johnny Marr, and you've got something special. The Drowners, Metal Mickey, Animal Nitrate and the song featured on the soundtrack So Young were all instant classics and very much of a time - 1993, self confident, sensing the beginning of a new time - we didn't know it was going to be Britpop, New Labour, Sky Sports, The Premier League, Simon Cowell and more, but we knew it was going to be our time.  It also dovetailed nicely with my first year at University so it was an incredible backdrop to seminal events and great nights out with still great friends. 

Dog Man Star was the follow-up album and observers immediately sensed the change in tone, direction and indeed relationships within the band, the calm after a storm, it even sounded like a house after a blazing row, which in terms of Anderson and Butler's fractured relationship, it was. Songs such as Heroine and The Two of Us, liberally sprinkled with Byron quotes and Hollywood references along with strings and a genuine unrequited longing which is ambrosia to the confused and miserable Northern student in at the best of times, it was a stretch and a reach and while not entirely successful, at least showed you can have a go and succeed on your own scale if not a grander one, say the charts. They also released Stay Together - a colossal single and three supporting tracks including The Living Dead, possibly their greatest work together. 

Like all tragic stories, when they should have been at their pinnacle in terms of cultural reward, influence, cache and fame, Butler left, as Marr left The Smiths before him and derailed the project allowing Blur, Oasis, Pulp and Elastica to jostle for the crown and affections of the court. The Britpop thread that starts with Suede continues here as Brett's ex Justine Frischmann, lead singer with Elastica became Damon Albarn's tragic lost love seeing Blur's jaunty Parklife/Great Escape salad days morph into the darker 13.

Suede continued with a new guitarist Richard Oakes, and added a keyboardist, never a good sign, and while Coming Up, released in 1997 was their greatest commercial hit, by then I and many other fans had moved on, musically and with our lives, and the strong hits, of which they were with Trash and Electricity, were so much commercial radio fodder while we, individually and collectively, were moving on with our lives - and living. 

What 'The World's End' did, not only with its soundtrack but also its themes of unrequited ambition and refusal to move on and accept diminished horizons and possibilities, was to suddenly and emotionally bring me back to a time and period in my life that I had totally forgotten about.  Like seeing a girl you had a brief, intense love affair with years before and never saw again, I didn't expect Suede to come back into my life but I'm glad they have. 

Do You Remember The First Time?

There are certain rights of passage every young man much go through,  first day at school, first kiss, first punch (taken or thrown), and for every British boy, your first football match. 

I've been aware of the omnipotent presence of Middlesbrough FC since an early age.  My grandparents lived in Meath Street, one of the myriad two up, two down terraced streets in West Middlesbrough, a goal kick away from Ayresome Park, the Boro's former home.

As loved by Boro fans as it was feared by opposition supporters, it was nestled in the middle of these street next to the old General Hospital where several generations of fans, myself included, would spring forth. As well as the streets themselves there were numerous cut throughs and back alleys which provided many short cuts and hiding places to be wary of for opposition fans making their way back to the station at the bottom of Albert Road.

A typical North Eastern Saturday would see me and later my brother deposited into my Nana's care while the men of the family and more often than not my mum would make their way to the game. We would be entertained with a round of board games, impromptu musical performances with pans and wooden spoons serving for drums and back yard football and tennis. Once this got too much, we'd come inside to catch the wrestling on World of Sport before the classified results would tell us what sort of mood the returning heroes would be in.  Occasionally they would be back before the results if the defeat was too heavy or too dispiriting to take.

I remember walking through the huge red North Stand gates with MIDDLESBROUGH AFC emblazoned above you. The gates themselves now stand in front of the new home, the Riverside Stadium, and walking through them is something of a pre-match tradition enjoyed by a new generation.  I don't remember a whole lot about my first game other than I'd never seen so many people gathered in one place before and spent as much time watching the crowd as the game.  My only sporting recollection is that the opposition played in yellow shirts and green shorts which immediately led me to see when we played Norwich City and concluded that it was must have been them. 

In the age of social media, no such guesswork will be needed to record this weekend when I took Vince along to the Riverside to see Boro's final pre-season friendly against the French cup winners - Bordeaux. 

He'd been looking forward to it all week, mainly because his cousins Jacob and Ethan would also be going but because we pass the stadium every week on our way to the Speedway, his other sporting routine, and new that Middlesbrough played there. 

He has a Boro branded t-shirt but not a replica shirt for a couple of reasons. Firstly, I'm not paying £50 for something he'll grow out of in six months and also, actually the strongest reason, is that Middlesbrough are sponsored by Ramsdens, a pawnbrokers.  I appreciate they are not as bad as predatory payday moneylenders such as Wonga or QuickQuid but as far as I'm concerned, they are the one-haired man in the kingdom of the blind. I disapprove and won't let my son endorse them.  It's a reason I wear the classic 1970s style Boro shirts to matches myself, as well as being timeless classic and associated with a swaggering brand of football and machismo that Jack Charlton's team epitomised, they also don't have a sponsor.

I parked near the old Dockside clock and told Vincent the story about why it has three faces (the fourth one is a bricked out section that faces the docks themselves. Designed so the workers would not know how close it was to 5pm, and therefore wouldn't slack off from their duties), and walked past the giant Temenos sculpture which resembles either a huge Star-Trek style wormhole or twisted femidom depending on how charitable you are feeling.  A hop across the swing bridge to take in a downriver view of the Tees including a submerged jetty and sunken boat at low tide and to the gates to meet up with his cousins.  

Providence takes many forms the site of three handsome young Boro fans took the imagination of a local director.  He asked if he could film all three of them in cheering mode to feature in the opening titles of the matchday show this season. I happily signed the release form and am looking forward to seeing them immortalised for at least the next 24 matches, especially when the weather and probably results take a grimmer turn than today's sleepy sunshine draped Riverside. 

The boys settled down to enjoy their drinks and sweets and happily cheered a motivated Marvin Emnes scoring both goals in a 2-1 including a great top corner consolation for the visitors. Vince left with a spring in his step as we walked back down Vulcan Road, past SLP where I spent a happy summer working in the Shipyard and nailing down my claim to working class Teesside credibility.  I watched Vince running around with the happy boys, playing together, wondering if he suspected the lifetime of worry, pain, annoyance, embarrassment, confusion, anger and occasional joy I've bequeathed him through a lifetime allegiance to the forces of the Roaring Red Lion. 

As misery shared is a trouble halved but for one bright, brilliant summers day, it was a deserved dividend in happiness.

The Sleep and the Fury - An old man readies for war

So I've been 40 just over two weeks now and I only just about started smiling again.  

I don't know why, ageing has never held any genuine terrors for me before but maybe this time is different. For the first time you’re aware that the clock is on and it’s already been running for some time. You’re not the next big thing anymore, you are what you are and maybe about to step into the queue for the downhill ride of your life.

There’s also other cumulative factors too - lack of sleep, hard work, emotional stress from being apart from Stacey and looking after Vince despite my parent’s much required and admired help, bright light streaming into the room far too early and remaining far too late and maybe too much tea, which in turn allows me to eat too many bisuits.

Also gradual reassimilation into the currents and eddys of everday British life, like trying to join in a dance if you’re one step behind and need to catch-up.  One thing that has taken me by surprise, and not pleasantly, is a general hardening of attitudes and rising meanness amongst people.  I can understand why. Hard economic times mean people are uncertain and like to look around for easy solutions or scapegoats. If they are misinformed or ill informed by higher powers with agendas of their own, then you can see it play out in action.  

Immigration being a case in point.   From the rhetoric about skivers v strivers, and every sentence being peppered with adjectives such as ‘hard working’ and ‘british’, than anything falling outside that definition is easy to be viewed with suspicion and at times downright hostitlity.  Look at any coverage on migration these days and see the accompanying pictures and language used.

They won’t be of Jose Mourinho or Robin Van Persie but most likely niqab or sari wearing women pushing buggies. Look - they’re different from you, their names sound funny, they might have more kids than you (that you’ll pay for!) and you just know they’re up to no good in those funny looking temples of theirs.   Lay on a strong foundation of suspicion, mistrust and deceit and then it’s ideal to build a restrictive and discriminative platform on top.  

Minimum income requirements for anybody wanting to bring non-EU dependents to the country? Great.  £3000 bonds for visitors from certain countries to come to the UK, because lots of ‘them’ run away when they’re here? No problem. Charge non-EU visitors or residents to use the NHS? At last. Obscene official tweets and alarmist research? Gotcha.  Taken individually, the above measures, of which there are many more, and these are just aimed at immigrants. Taken individually, each one is a mean-spirited, dog-whistle low political headline grabber, but taken together, is an official assault on a group of people without the profile, voice or funds to fight back. I’m not going to address similar campaigns against the disabled and the unemployed, but you know it’s happening.

No wonder my feelings of lethargy and acceptance are rapidly being replaced with aggression and belligerence. As the country I loved and always tried to greet previous difficulties with a shrug and a smile replaces it with an officially sanctioned shove and a snarl.

Churchill, that most British of icons and symbols who was himself a product of an international relationship, with an American mother, said “You have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life.”

Maybe I’ve spent too long ducking and keeping my head down, making nice, turning the other cheek and letting it lie. All you’re doing is allowing knucklebeaks and worse to prosper by silent acquiescence.

Maybe it’s time to take two of my mentors words and act on them: ‘We can all be little Tom Paine’s. Changing a little bit of history at a time by being the first in the room to say ‘That’s not right - we’re not standing for that. So everyone else goes, their saying exactly what I was thinking.  If Tom Paine has one thing to say to us it’s: Make A Fuss’. That and woe betide any fucking moron dumb enough to start on about ‘bloody immigrants’ in my actual or virtual presence.

The 20s are about establishing an idea of the self, the 30s are about building and actualising it. Maybe the 40s are about fighting for it and defending it. The righteous sound and fury may fade, especially as I get more sleep, but as long as the fire doesn’t go out then at the very least I won’t be disappointing myself anymore. 

Time to suit up, not shut up.

Update 1 - Who's Tom Paine? Only the most influential English writer on American culture and society. Sorry Chris Hitchens.

The Mark Steel Lectures: Thomas Paine - made by the glorious Open University