We were competing with the great records of the past”, reflected Brett Anderson in 2011; “That was what we had to show with it. I was trying to write without limits.” An interesting theory, given that their self-titled debut had been the most exciting British rock album since ‘The Queen is Dead,’ but always perfectionists, Suede teamed up to write their best work: and the which subsequently ruined the relationship between the main writers of the band!
Suede started Britpop and subsequently came to hate the genre, none other than Suede’s guitarist and co-songwriter Bernard Butler. Moving away from the genre the band saw as “a hideously twisted musical Carry On movie”, songwriters Butler and Anderson moved to the darker albums of Lou Reed and Kate Bush, Anderson consoled himself with Scott Walker, Butler listened to The Brothers fair. Drugs were undoubtedly an influence on Anderson’s spherical reach as he consumed lash after lash, the psychedelia most prevalent in Monroe’s ode ‘Heroine’ and the pleasantly Floydian ‘The Asphalt World’. Anderson’s liberal use of drugs irritated Butler (Butler despised being treated like a subordinate for his unwillingness to party) and the two recorded the album further and further apart than Lennon/McCartney ever did. . Butler took issue with Ed Buller’s production (Butler was more of a competent engineer than he was) and insisted that the others fire Buller and allow Butler to complete the album; Anderson, wary of Butler, refused. Butler left the band before the album was finished, many of his guitar parts were replaced by session musicians (Butler does not play on ‘The Power’, the album’s weakest track), and the band toured the album with Seventeen-year-old Richard Oakes as guitarist (a position he holds to this day).
But in the trend of difficult albums in the style of ‘The White Album’ and ‘Kid A’, ‘Dog’ is much better for its dark behind-the-scenes politics, Suede playing the same songs in unison, but not all playing the same music. . . Butler (the greatest indie guitarist of his generation, save for Graham Coxon) imbues the album with his touch, blues charge and spiritual incantation visible in his playing, the ’70s powerhouse that blessed ‘McAlmont’s ‘Yes’ Butler’ here in its genesis. ‘New Genesis’ was closer to a rocker from the seventies, daring in his percussion, aggressive in guitars, a musical declaration of social intention. Delicate piano playing complements Anderson’s baritone excellence on ‘The 2 Of Us,’ a voice as fine as Bowie’s brilliance in falsetto heard on the band’s best single, ‘Animal Niterate.’ Where ‘Swede’ (1993) had optimism, ‘Dog’ feels sterile, defenseless, as hapless as a Beckettian play; “Lying in my bed/watching my mistakes,” Anderson repeats in a pained voice, the album process at its most real.
Doom and gloom is thankfully absent from the album’s most obviously commercial track, ‘The Wild Ones’ (still Anderson’s favorite song on Suede). Shades of Phil Spector envelop its production, Anderson’s melodious voice demanding and commanding twenty years after its release. ‘We Are The Pigs’ spiraled into Roger McGuinn jangles, but exploded into a song angrier than any heard since John Lydon called himself an antichrist (Simon Gilbert’s finest hour as a drummer, sharp, but strong, reminiscent of Mike Joyce of The Smith, who preceded Gilbert as drummer from Sweden). ‘Black Or Blue’ brought nuances of the esoteric Lennon, ‘This Hollywood Life’ more glamorous than glamorous, closer to ‘Still Life’, a beautiful ode to ‘Pet Sounds’ by The Beach Boys.
Behemoth ‘This Asphalt World’ proved to be the band’s crowning achievement, a colossally audacious nine-minute track (cut from twenty minutes, much to Butler’s contempt), but one that rewarded the listener like progressive classics ‘Kashmir’ and ‘Shine’. On You Crazy Diamond. ‘ had done once. Genre irrelevant in his writing, magnificent in his playing, ‘Asphalt’ shined with a riff on the sidelines as Anderson delivers the best performance of his career. The best Suede song the radios never played, ‘Asphalt’ took the band’s core influences, shook them up, and beat them.
Despite the album’s grandeur, audacity and genius, it failed to generate the response that ‘Definitely Maybe’ and ‘Parklife’ did – a critical triumph, not a commercial vessel. But neither were ‘Berlin,’ ‘Tusk,’ ‘Stormcock,’ ‘Queen II,’ or ‘The Dreaming,’ each a crown jewel of its writers, each a treasure for passionate listeners, each a cult following. for avid followers looking to avoid the mainstream. And in this family of off-beat brilliance, ‘Dog Man Star’ sits very comfortably!