Almost immediately the world learned of friction within the creative axis of the band, largely related to Anderson’s recreational drug use (and Butler’s general abstinence), and Butler’s obsessive tendencies in the studio. Signing a record deal just before their Melody Maker appearance, they capitalized on the fame with the release of several singles that got exponentially better, starting with “ The Drowners,” “Metal Mickey,” and “Animal Nitrate.” The headlines continued to pour in, at a level nowadays reserved for A-list talent and reality-TV stars. Reduced to a four-piece, Suede found their center and vaulted into the limelight. Justine would find her own success with Elastica about a year later. (Check out Michael’s excellent remembrance of Modern Life Is Rubbish to see what that meant for Blur.) In all likelihood, the tension in the wake of Justine’s departure would drive both bands to greater success: through painful inspiration and petty, cock-measuring competitiveness. Justine Frischmann wouldn’t stick with Suede for long by the time the band was gaining traction she had broken up with Brett (while continuing to live with him), and was dating Damon Albarn of Blur - igniting the first of many legendary Britpop feuds. Drawing heavily on fellow countrymen David Bowie and the Smiths, Suede would birth something new in stark opposition to the noise coming from across the Atlantic. Songs were dark, openly sexual, and pretentious, but Anderson had the voice and Butler had a gift for guitar - it was a natural fit. After finding lead guitarist Bernard Butler via an NME advertisement, the group slowly found their sound - they tapped the literary, high-minded culture of their university surroundings to tell impressionistic stories about the grit and grime of Anderson’s London upbringing as the son of a cab driver. As much as the band would later deny any association with the genre, it was Suede’s distinctly British take on glam rock that would kick the whole thing off.įounding members Brett Anderson and Justine Frischmann met at university, fell in love hard enough to think it was real, and dreamt up the idea of starting a band. Gentler, less cocksure progenitors like the La’s and the House Of Love were already fading from memory. Britpop, at this point, didn’t exist in any sense. Meanwhile, grunge was busy scorching the earth in a wave of flannel and bratty American angst. For the first time in ages, Britain had no scene. Shoegaze burned bright for a hot second before burning out entirely.
Suede materialized at a time when the whole world was fixated on Seattle. And then Suede appeared from nowhere like some kind of godsend: without releasing a single note of recorded music they were suddenly on the cover of Melody Maker, loudly described as THE BEST NEW BAND IN BRITAIN. Pulp had been around forever, long enough to have had their shot and already lost it (they’d get another) - but again, no one cared. Way back in ’92, Blur were already around, having dropped an album no one much cared about. Before there was Britpop, there was Suede.