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498 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2003
The then deputy editor of the NME later confided that, while he enjoyed the book, there were far too many Smiths song references in it for his liking. I counted seven in the first three chapters alone so he may well have had a point.
The lion's share of Love & Poison, the first edition of this book, was diligently thrashed out over the long hot summer of 2003 on a diet of Stella Artois and Camel Lights. Unleashed in September of that year, just as the band were disintegrating, it was an instant critical and commercial success and quickly became part of the Suede mythos; increasingly so in recent years when copies became impossible to get hold of, exchanging hands for silly money on eBay and Amazon. Of all the many flattering reviews, the one that meant the most came from Brett Anderson in the form of a no-nonsense email: “The book moved me. Nice one. xBrett.” Indeed, Suede’s singer was the only member of the band to request precisely zero changes to the original manuscript whatsoever, intuitively understanding that the biography’s unblinking snorts-and-all candor made up for the occasionally schizophrenic nature of its prose. (Although I did once see a copy inscribed in his unmistakable hand with the message “This book is crap!” and I’m not entirely sure he was joking).
“Throughout the whole of growing up there was a very vivid undercurrent of violence,” Brett agrees. “They always called me queer. I quite liked it, actually, because when you’re insulted by someone you consider a complete piece of shit, how can it be an insult?”
“Young guitar player needed by London based band. Smiths, Commotions, Bowie, PSBs. No musos. Some things are more important than ability. Call Brett.” Two people responded. One was “a guy who had a guitar”. The other was a skinny 19-year-old called Bernard Butler.
“Well, I’m sorry but I’m afraid we’re a London-based band.” “That’s not a problem, I’ve worked with London-based bands before, I can commute. It’s only a couple of hours on the train.” “Who have you worked with then?” “A band called the Smiths. My name’s Mike Joyce.”
Remarkably, these circumstances, far from destroying the band as might be expected, actually brought its core elements closer together. “It was a weird period because we’d split up and because of that me and Bernard got closer as well because I didn’t have Justine any more as a friend,” says Brett. “Alan has always been a great friend and was there for me and Bernard was there for me as well, he was there for me as a friend. In the early days me and Bernard were good friends and it’s something that people might not know now. There was a weird period where she was still in the band. I was writing songs like ‘Pantomime Horse’, which wasn’t directly about her, but it was a celebration of my own tragedy. It was definitely kicked off by the fact that I was fucking depressed and stuff like ‘He’s Dead’... I couldn’t have written them if I was happy, they were the product of an unhappy mind.” “’I would die for the stars she said,’ that was a reference to Justine choosing Damon over Brett because he was famous and stuff,” adds Alan. “The lyrics are pretty self-explanatory.”
June 6: Brett is completely pissed off at the studio. Understandably.
June 7: Meeting at studio with Brett, Saul, Ed, Charlie and myself
June 8: Charlie went to see Bernard – ‘Brett’s obviously a paedophile because he asked ‘Lisa her age, on her birthday!’
June 9: Spoke to Bernard. Seems he has snapped out of it. For now.
June 10: Butler is apparently recording all his telephone conversations.
June 11: E x 4. Coke x 1. Acid x 2.
"I would not have found each other over the gulf of miles, finding that common ground in a band like Suede and it's always more than just a connection to some songs, it's an attitude and an ethos and it defines something in you that makes you connect really strongly to other people".