Suede
Coming Up (1996)
C.M. Crockford
Q: So
what exactly are bands meant to do when the guitarist leaves, only a
vocal cult likes your new, weird album, and you seem down and out?
A: Get
another player, start it all up again, and make some chartstorming
hits.
Coming Up
was the initiation of the new era of Suede, with a replacement for
Bernard Butler in lead guitarist Richard Oakes and additional member
Neil Codling. Suede 2.0 was even glossier, hookier, louder than the
previous Suede (who lest we forget did have Brett Anderson
ecstatically swinging a mic against his ass), and had a remarkable
sense of pop as standard by which all should be judged. The songs
here are catchy, swaggering, and large:
nothing is small-scale. There's no deeply solemn art rock a la
“Daddy's Speeding” on the previous record, no creepy chanting.
Coming Up
is the soundtrack of British hedonism circa 1996: the yuppies,
council estate teens, druggies, and celebrities all united beyond
class and social strata under the goal of having a good time.
And
what a great soundtrack. Coming
Up
especially in its more euphoric singles, as Codling's keyboards surge
on “Filmstar” for example, reaches a pinnacle of bubblegum glam.
Everything is heightened, churned into a single candy-coated album
mix by Ed Buller. Anderson's voice is higher than it's ever been on
the gleefully anthemic “Trash” for example, finding liftoff in
the final chorus syllable: “We're the litter on the breeze/We're
the lovers on the streets /Just trash, me and you/It's in everything
we dooooooo”. Subtlety was rarely in the band's vocabulary anyway,
but Coming Up
laughs at the whole concept of going small. Strings, large backbeats,
and attacking guitar compete for space on pseudo-Bondian song “She”,
and the result is as exhausting as it is exhilarating. It's the rock
equivalent of an excellent blockbuster that all but begs for you to
love it.
Still
at its best Coming
Up
has a balance of joy and melancholia just as 70's glam secretly did.
(Is there a more poignant rock song about sexual confusion than
“Drive In Saturday”?) This is still at its core music by
outsiders who happen to be allowing a few more people into the fold.
“By The Sea” is a haunting piano ballad where the couple look
forward to their suicide, as Brett Anderson warmly sings “He can
walk out anytime across the sand, into the sea, into the brine.”
Not quite cocktail party stuff.
But
my favorite song here is one of their masterpieces, “The Chemistry
Between Us” - Richard Oakes as a guitar player was never better,
his luxurious and melodic riffs finding a bittersweet (heh) ecstasy
on the dance floor. “Between Us” in sound is somewhere between
Fifties retro-glam and Judy Garland, the La-la-la vocals floating
through thin air – when Brett sings “We are young and not tired
of it”, it's utterly triumphant and utterly pitiful just as the
best pop ballads can be. The narrator wonders openly about whether
they and their lover are too old for this shit, maybe “just capital
flash/in a stupid love”. “Class A, Class B/Is that the only
chemistry between us?” Anderson croons, the song spiralling towards
a come-down, Oakes' guitar surrendering to fluttering strings and
blissful surrender.
The
closer “Saturday Night” is the hangover to the faded and fucked
up highlights of the album, as the narrator promises “Whatever
makes her happy, whatever makes it alright” to their depressed
significant other. Like the song with the same title by The Blue
Nile, Saturday night holds totemic meaning here, and all these
British working class kids can do is put all of their hope into that
time, with its grand promise of a good time. The album finishes on
that sad note, a perfect pop album cut short by the intrusion of
reality.
Spawning
several chart hits in England, Coming
Up
was a commercial peak for Suede as a band and their last truly great
record for awhile. They had several hits with the next two albums,
but this would be their best work until their (excellent) reunion.
It's an exuberant, playful pop/rock album, delighted in the young and
vibrant world it lives in. There's nothing else I can ask of pop
music.