Those who have met him recently report a Brett Anderson in dazzling shape: lean physique, cultured and fluent speech in keeping with his status as an established young star. On reflection, there's little to be surprised about in the fact that the unruly glam-rocker, once intent on toying with his David Bowie fetish while conquering Europe with millions of copies sold under the banner of unbridled ambiguity, should have transformed into a dandy with refined poses, far from the dazzling excesses of the glorious Suede era: developments that have more than one precedent in the history of rock'n'roll.
We were talking about Suede, a name that had the undeniable merit of updating the canons of glam rock for the consumption of the britpop generation, thanks to a fair number of songs that endure, but which died out under the weight of departures (the exit of Neil Codling was just as decisive as that of Bernard Butler, in our view) and a lost inspiration that took on the drab guise of the inglorious "A New Morning" (2002). Well then, a few months ago came the scoop you weren't expecting: arch-rivals Anderson and Butler decided to form a new band. With the cards now on the table, it's only right to ask questions about the meaning of this "half reunion", coming a full ten years after their sensational split, especially regarding the content of an album that, not straying far from a familiar style, effectively makes the name change - and, ultimately, the very point of the new project - incomprehensible.
"Here Come The Tears" is an album built entirely around its songs, forever chasing the knockout moment, and when it does arrive it's weighed down by a baggage of memories that often veer close to self-quotation, when not pointing directly back to the source material, needless to say, Bowie's "Ziggy Stardust" period. Given such a heritage, it's hard not to feel some perplexity, especially considering we're dealing with a lengthy record (a full 53 minutes across thirteen songs!) that doesn't harbour even the faintest ambition to add new colours to a palette that's already been used before. That said, this can't be called an outright bad record, one to avoid, since it still stands as the expression of a glamorous style that occasionally still hits the mark, and even when it doesn't land a direct hit, it gets by on class and no small amount of craft.
It's with the opening track, the single "Refugees", that you start to grasp where the duo is headed: try to imagine what the follow-up to "Dog Man Star" would have sounded like with Butler still in the line-up, and you'll find plenty of answers in this rediscovered mood of melodic grandeur. The atmospheres are undoubtedly more relaxed, with flashes of natural light illuminating the band's well-established gloomy mood, while leaving Brett Anderson's heart-thief intentions fully intact ("Co-Star", but also "Two Creatures", and "Lovers"). Where the vocal lines show the signs of time, it's the aching choruses that save the day ("Imperfection"), perhaps still sending shivers down the spines of lovesick teenage girls, assuming today's teenagers are as susceptible to syrupy sentiment as those who came before them. Who knows what reactions ballads like the Bowie-esque "Fallen Idol", "The Asylum", the slow arpeggios of "Apollo 13", or the dramatic "A Love As Strong As Death" will provoke in them.
Butler's guitar, while still a central pillar thanks to the riffs of a talented musician with a distinctive style, ends up taking more of a back seat, more willing, in other words, to make room for arrangements that sometimes tip over into a baroque excess that will do nothing to dispel the doubts of those who already had them back in the Suede days ("Brave Century" and "Beautiful Pain" will perhaps bear the brunt of it). Lights and shadows end up balancing each other out, diluted across a record that will certainly delight longtime fans, but will hardly win over new ones, and even less likely change the minds of its detractors. But all things considered, a solid pass mark feels more than deserved.
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09/07/2005
This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Marco Bercella, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.