We are blessed with many berries on this green earth. Blueberries, blackberries, boysenberries, raspberries, even Frankenberry. But all these pale in comparison with my fervent interest in what currently remains a bit of forbidden fruit: Glastonbury.
After two warmup gigs at London’s 100 Club and the Manchester Ritz, a re-formed Suede played the Royal Albert Hall last night (March 24) as part of the Teenage Cancer Trust Series. I know, I know. Another Suede post? I will not proselytize but I will not apologize.
The set list was as follows:
When my blood was a bit younger, I used to think about how much cooler it would have been to have come of age five years earlier. While I grew up during that glossy decade known as the 1980s, I was just a little young to truly appreciate the bands I came to know and love, bands borne of the late 70s-early 80s post punk movement, until later. Now that I’m 37, I’m quite thankful to have that extra five years ahead of me. Still, my nostalgia and appreciation for many things 80s remains intact, so all it took was a phone call from my cousin Abby about an 80s prom party in New York City for me to dive headfirst into my closet in search of my long-lost parachute pants. Continue reading “Forever Young”
I’m just going to say up front that this post has it all. Violence, celebrities and a killer soundtrack. Plus it takes place in the big city. Do I smell the makings of a cult indie film? I think I… oh wait. No, that’s just my socks. Continue reading “All Choked Up”
English, twisted and sexual. That’s how guitarist Bernard Butler described Suede in 1992. For a brief moment that was all but lost to most Americans, Suede had the lot. The look, the tunes, the love and poison. To paraphrase singer Brett Anderson, if mainstream music was the rose-covered bed, Suede was the used condom on the floor. Continue reading “(Re)Introducing the Band”