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Coal Black Mornings
Brett Anderson came from a world impossibly distant from rock star success, and in Coal Black Mornings he traces the journey that took him from a childhood as 'a snotty, sniffy, slightly maudlin sort of boy raised on Salad Cream and milky tea and cheap meat' to becoming founder and lead singer of Suede.
Anderson grew up in Hayward's Heath on the grubby fringes of the Home Counties. As a teenager he clashed with his eccentric taxi-driving father (who would parade around their council house dressed as Lawrence of Arabia, air-conducting his favourite composers) and adored his beautiful, artistic mother. He brilliantly evokes the seventies, the suffocating discomfort of a very English kind of poverty and the burning need for escape that it breeds. Anderson charts the shabby romance of creativity as he travelled the tube in search of inspiration, fuelled by Marmite and nicotine, and Suede's rise from rehearsals in bedrooms, squats and pubs. And he catalogues the intense relationships that make and break bands as well as the devastating loss of his mother.
Coal Black Mornings is profoundly moving, funny and intense - a book which stands alongside the most emotionally truthful of personal stories.
Anderson grew up in Hayward's Heath on the grubby fringes of the Home Counties. As a teenager he clashed with his eccentric taxi-driving father (who would parade around their council house dressed as Lawrence of Arabia, air-conducting his favourite composers) and adored his beautiful, artistic mother. He brilliantly evokes the seventies, the suffocating discomfort of a very English kind of poverty and the burning need for escape that it breeds. Anderson charts the shabby romance of creativity as he travelled the tube in search of inspiration, fuelled by Marmite and nicotine, and Suede's rise from rehearsals in bedrooms, squats and pubs. And he catalogues the intense relationships that make and break bands as well as the devastating loss of his mother.
Coal Black Mornings is profoundly moving, funny and intense - a book which stands alongside the most emotionally truthful of personal stories.
209 pages, Hardcover
First published March 1, 2018
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1446 people want to read
About the author
Brett Anderson
12 books128 followersBrett Anderson is an English singer-songwriter best known as the frontman of indie-rock band Suede (1989-2003, 2010-present). Anderson is known for his distinctive wide-ranging voice and, during Suede's early days, his androgynous appearance. His first memoir, Coal Black Mornings, was published to critical acclaim in 2018, and a second volume is scheduled for late 2019.
(Adapted from Wikipedia.)
(Adapted from Wikipedia.)
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 297 reviews
December 20, 2022
Well written and captivating auto-biography from Suede frontman Brett Anderson. (Suede is one of my favorite British bands so I was curious to read Brett’s story.) The book focusses mainly on Brett’s early years... childhood, school, starting the band, and takes place in the 70’s, 80’s, and the 90’s. The book ends when Suede are ready to reach some well-deserved success. Brett wrote a follow-up bio “Afternoons With the Blinds Drawn” which I will have to read soon. An interesting read from a very talented man.
March 5, 2018
There's probably no band that captures the zeitgeist of *my* the 90s more than Suede. I still vividly remember seeing the video for Animal Nitrate on late-night TV and rushing into the city the next day to buy the debut album on tape. That song - and video - sounded so fresh and new, but also instantly familiar. It was sexy and glamorous, but also grim and grimy and evocative of the brown-and-orange memories of the 1970s and early 80s of my childhood. I played Suede on the bus to and from university every day for months and months - its two sides filling the length of my commute almost perfectly, to the point where most days I'd be stepping off the bus at the Victoria Street bus depot to the fading strains of The Next Life. Fast forward 25 years, and I'm still a lifer for that band. Every album, every single, fanclub magazines, bootlegs, the odd tee shirt.
Anderson's book is a wonderful thing. It's incredibly evocative, and beautifully written. Ending just as Suede signed to Saul Galpern's Nude Records, this isn't a warts'n'all rock bio about the excesses of life on the road. It's a story about Anderson's childhood, growing up poor in the kind of dead-end commuter town that populate so many Suede songs. Its a story about family, and friendships, and young people bonding over the redemptive power of records. There's not a lot of new information about the formation of the band that you won't know if you've read David Barnett's excellent Suede biography, but for anyone who has obsessed over Suede's songs, it's a fascinating document about Brett's writing processes, and the people - friends, relative, neighbours, specific places - that informed those early songs.
Anderson's book is a wonderful thing. It's incredibly evocative, and beautifully written. Ending just as Suede signed to Saul Galpern's Nude Records, this isn't a warts'n'all rock bio about the excesses of life on the road. It's a story about Anderson's childhood, growing up poor in the kind of dead-end commuter town that populate so many Suede songs. Its a story about family, and friendships, and young people bonding over the redemptive power of records. There's not a lot of new information about the formation of the band that you won't know if you've read David Barnett's excellent Suede biography, but for anyone who has obsessed over Suede's songs, it's a fascinating document about Brett's writing processes, and the people - friends, relative, neighbours, specific places - that informed those early songs.
June 18, 2021
I saw Brett Anderson discuss Coal Black Mornings at the 2018 Brighton Festival, and it was this which convinced me to read it. I'm glad I did, it’s a wonderful read.
Coal Black Mornings ends just as Suede get their record deal and finally start gaining their unstoppable momentum - however, prior to this, there were years of playing to tiny audiences.
Coal Black Mornings, which focusses on Brett’s early life and the pre-fame years, is therefore not the standard rock memoir. It’s all the better for it too.
After describing Brett’s impoverished childhood and unusual family, Coal Black Mornings is a beautifully written meditation on his life in early 1990s London which includes his seminal relationship with Justine Frischmann, and how he met the rest of Suede.
There’s loads to enjoy and appreciate, indeed my only criticism is that Brett chose to end the story when he did, although I understand his reasons for doing so.
4/5
Coal Black Mornings ends just as Suede get their record deal and finally start gaining their unstoppable momentum - however, prior to this, there were years of playing to tiny audiences.
Coal Black Mornings, which focusses on Brett’s early life and the pre-fame years, is therefore not the standard rock memoir. It’s all the better for it too.
After describing Brett’s impoverished childhood and unusual family, Coal Black Mornings is a beautifully written meditation on his life in early 1990s London which includes his seminal relationship with Justine Frischmann, and how he met the rest of Suede.
There’s loads to enjoy and appreciate, indeed my only criticism is that Brett chose to end the story when he did, although I understand his reasons for doing so.
4/5
January 19, 2022
I always liked Suede more than Oasis, Blur or Pulp. David Bowie was more of a presence in their music, look and lyrics. Suede also looked more like me and came from the same background. The bands we identify with as teenagers are such a powerful force in moving us away from the oppressive fume of our parents and environment. They give us another world to live in, a world where it's easier to find and know ourselves.
This book is the singer's account of his early life before fame arrived. It's a depiction of the dead-end suburban world he seeks to escape. It's quickly evident that, like me, he grew up reading NME and writers like Paul Morley who rarely used one word when he could use three. Every sentence swarms with adjectives and lyrical glitter. It's interesting that he still has a tendency to sees things from inside the bubble of his fame and has an inflated notion of Suede's importance in the grand scheme of things. He doesn't shy away from blowing his own trumpet. His mother dies before he has recorded a single song and that is the great sadness haunting the narrative. That she will never know what he achieved with his life. He wrote the song "The Next Life" about her which along with "Europe is our Playground" is my favourite Suede song.
This book is the singer's account of his early life before fame arrived. It's a depiction of the dead-end suburban world he seeks to escape. It's quickly evident that, like me, he grew up reading NME and writers like Paul Morley who rarely used one word when he could use three. Every sentence swarms with adjectives and lyrical glitter. It's interesting that he still has a tendency to sees things from inside the bubble of his fame and has an inflated notion of Suede's importance in the grand scheme of things. He doesn't shy away from blowing his own trumpet. His mother dies before he has recorded a single song and that is the great sadness haunting the narrative. That she will never know what he achieved with his life. He wrote the song "The Next Life" about her which along with "Europe is our Playground" is my favourite Suede song.
September 2, 2021
Tengo una tríada de grupos muscales que fueron marcando las diferentes etapas de mi vida.
La primera pica en Flandes la puso Roxette, el simpático grupo sueco, con el que por fin tuve ganas de dar un descanso a New Kids On The Block, Bros, Chesney Hawkes y demás boybands que, y no lo digo por tirarme el pisto, en realidad nunca me gustaron.
Solo tres años después, como decía Julio Iglesias (este no tiene sitio en mi altar, a saber por qué), pasé de niña a mujer con Suede. Y unos cinco o seis años más tarde, llegaron Manic Street Preachers, pero esa es otra historia.
Yo creo que gran parte de mi decisión de irme a Reino Unido la tuvo mi obsesión por este grupo, porque quería tener acceso de primera mano a todo ese material maravilloso: las revistas, los periódicos musicales (NME y Melody Maker), los CDs, fotos, parafernalia varia, amén de poder velos en concierto, algo que nunca he hecho con ninguna de mis bandas favoritas jamás (ya es casi una tradición).
Ni que decir tiene que el libro me ha encantado; me han encantado sus pros y me han encantado sus contras. Anderson habla mucho de sus padres y de su vida en una casucha pobre, de sus amigos y de cómo fueron sus primeros amagos de estrella rock. Se venga de Justine Frischmann (aunque él lo niegue) y nos explica en detalle las fuentes de su inspiración compositora, algo realmente fascinante y mi parte preferida del libro.
Sobra decir que esta es lectura obligada para cualquier fan del grupo, pero me gustaría advertir a los no iniciados: poco vais a entender. Coal Black Mornings está escrito para suedeheads.
La primera pica en Flandes la puso Roxette, el simpático grupo sueco, con el que por fin tuve ganas de dar un descanso a New Kids On The Block, Bros, Chesney Hawkes y demás boybands que, y no lo digo por tirarme el pisto, en realidad nunca me gustaron.
Solo tres años después, como decía Julio Iglesias (este no tiene sitio en mi altar, a saber por qué), pasé de niña a mujer con Suede. Y unos cinco o seis años más tarde, llegaron Manic Street Preachers, pero esa es otra historia.
Yo creo que gran parte de mi decisión de irme a Reino Unido la tuvo mi obsesión por este grupo, porque quería tener acceso de primera mano a todo ese material maravilloso: las revistas, los periódicos musicales (NME y Melody Maker), los CDs, fotos, parafernalia varia, amén de poder velos en concierto, algo que nunca he hecho con ninguna de mis bandas favoritas jamás (ya es casi una tradición).
Ni que decir tiene que el libro me ha encantado; me han encantado sus pros y me han encantado sus contras. Anderson habla mucho de sus padres y de su vida en una casucha pobre, de sus amigos y de cómo fueron sus primeros amagos de estrella rock. Se venga de Justine Frischmann (aunque él lo niegue) y nos explica en detalle las fuentes de su inspiración compositora, algo realmente fascinante y mi parte preferida del libro.
Sobra decir que esta es lectura obligada para cualquier fan del grupo, pero me gustaría advertir a los no iniciados: poco vais a entender. Coal Black Mornings está escrito para suedeheads.
March 9, 2018
When I first heard Brett Anderson was releasing a memoir I'm not too ashamed to admit my first thought was "Ooh I wonder what he'll have to say about the whole The Tears experience, or Damon Albarn!". The man is known to be pretty acerbic after all. By the time I actually sat down to read the book I was aware that it wasn't going to be that kind of book, but I was still a bit puzzled by how Brett was going to write this book but just end it when Suede became successful.
Coal Black Mornings follows a roughly chronological structure, but Anderson uses recounting the events of his past as jumping off point to explore how they made him the person he is today. In that way it is a bit different from many memoirs. In some ways it reminded me of Robert Webb's excellent How Not To Be a Boy.
For fans of Suede and Anderson it probably won't come as a surprise that the book is a little pretentious at times. Generally it didn't affect my enjoyment of it. I love a bit of purple prose (I am a Suede fan after all). However, there were a couple of times I found myself rolling my eyes at an unnecessarily obscure word choice or similar. In saying that it's a very good book. Anderson's tales of his childhood, his family, and later his friends are genuinely touching. He draws a vivid picture of his surrounds and just like with his songwriting you easily find yourself swept up in the atmosphere. Once I started reading I found it hard to stop. I read the whole book in one night staying up far too late to finish it.
I also really enjoyed the sections where he discussed discovering the various music that influenced him, but I always enjoy reading about that kind of thing. I loved that he actually talked a lot about the songwriting process, this is surprisingly rare in rock-star memoirs and I find it fascinating.
By the time I reached the end of Coal Black Mornings it did feel like a whole story. I wasn't left feeling unsatisfied when the book ended with Suede being signed to Nude Records, but I did want to keep reading and would gladly read another instalment in the unlikely event Brett Anderson ever decides to revisit the subject.
I also even had one of my initial gossipy questions answered, because he had only nice things to say about The Tears and Bernard Butler.
Coal Black Mornings follows a roughly chronological structure, but Anderson uses recounting the events of his past as jumping off point to explore how they made him the person he is today. In that way it is a bit different from many memoirs. In some ways it reminded me of Robert Webb's excellent How Not To Be a Boy.
For fans of Suede and Anderson it probably won't come as a surprise that the book is a little pretentious at times. Generally it didn't affect my enjoyment of it. I love a bit of purple prose (I am a Suede fan after all). However, there were a couple of times I found myself rolling my eyes at an unnecessarily obscure word choice or similar. In saying that it's a very good book. Anderson's tales of his childhood, his family, and later his friends are genuinely touching. He draws a vivid picture of his surrounds and just like with his songwriting you easily find yourself swept up in the atmosphere. Once I started reading I found it hard to stop. I read the whole book in one night staying up far too late to finish it.
I also really enjoyed the sections where he discussed discovering the various music that influenced him, but I always enjoy reading about that kind of thing. I loved that he actually talked a lot about the songwriting process, this is surprisingly rare in rock-star memoirs and I find it fascinating.
By the time I reached the end of Coal Black Mornings it did feel like a whole story. I wasn't left feeling unsatisfied when the book ended with Suede being signed to Nude Records, but I did want to keep reading and would gladly read another instalment in the unlikely event Brett Anderson ever decides to revisit the subject.
I also even had one of my initial gossipy questions answered, because he had only nice things to say about The Tears and Bernard Butler.
March 11, 2018
I knew I would have to read this book in just a few intense shifts. A few pages in and I was delighted by Anderson's intelligent, concise and playful storytelling. His early years particularly fascinated me - before reading this I knew very little and had somehow misunderstood his background, thinking he had been raised by a single father (now realising I had his life confused with someone else). So I am glad to have a much better understanding of Brett Anderson's childhood years, especially as I can relate to them in many ways: the salad cream, fighting parents, making do - and more than anything being an outsider.
His youthful years beyond childhood are written about with wit and affection for others. His relationships with Justine and Bernard are pivotal and absolutely needed to be written about. Here one might wish for much more but I am not surprised by the succinct telling given here - no 'too much information' or any suggestion of reckless bitterness. I don't know why I was surprised to find her name in this book - but when I got to page 179 and the Canadian Laura, I had an aha moment (my six degrees of separation moment). A few years on and I would meet and spend time with Laura myself, as she and I were two of a small group of students studying Creative Writing. I knew from Laura that she knew Brett etc... but not much more. (And Laura where are you? I was so sure your razor-edged writing would be published and you would soar.... And you always listened so carefully to me.) Anderson's description of London in the early 90's is real to me - I also had a love affair with London at this time, living right on the edge (end of the Met line). Mine was a different experience, one of falling in love with theatre-land and art. But though the parts of London I knew well in the 90's were different Anderson still describes to me a place I knew, not just a place but a shifting time in London's history: that general mood of gloom and vacuum, the ghostly dregs of the eighties hanging about on street corners, the dirt, tobacco and windswept empty squares.
The latter parts of this book seemed to fly by, with so much happening - and yet not happening. The band's struggle to develop as songwriters and gain recognition comes across as genuine hard work, with no pleas for sympathy. Many others would have quit. But knowing Brett's early life one understands this just was not an option for him personally. I particularly like the focus of the book being Anderson's early years and stopping just before the 'big time' of success. That works for me. The foreword is an important opener - it states clearly why the book was written: for Brett's son. And in some ways I feel like a voyeur, or someone who has looked inside a gift box knowing the contents are really intended for just one person.
His youthful years beyond childhood are written about with wit and affection for others. His relationships with Justine and Bernard are pivotal and absolutely needed to be written about. Here one might wish for much more but I am not surprised by the succinct telling given here - no 'too much information' or any suggestion of reckless bitterness. I don't know why I was surprised to find her name in this book - but when I got to page 179 and the Canadian Laura, I had an aha moment (my six degrees of separation moment). A few years on and I would meet and spend time with Laura myself, as she and I were two of a small group of students studying Creative Writing. I knew from Laura that she knew Brett etc... but not much more. (And Laura where are you? I was so sure your razor-edged writing would be published and you would soar.... And you always listened so carefully to me.) Anderson's description of London in the early 90's is real to me - I also had a love affair with London at this time, living right on the edge (end of the Met line). Mine was a different experience, one of falling in love with theatre-land and art. But though the parts of London I knew well in the 90's were different Anderson still describes to me a place I knew, not just a place but a shifting time in London's history: that general mood of gloom and vacuum, the ghostly dregs of the eighties hanging about on street corners, the dirt, tobacco and windswept empty squares.
The latter parts of this book seemed to fly by, with so much happening - and yet not happening. The band's struggle to develop as songwriters and gain recognition comes across as genuine hard work, with no pleas for sympathy. Many others would have quit. But knowing Brett's early life one understands this just was not an option for him personally. I particularly like the focus of the book being Anderson's early years and stopping just before the 'big time' of success. That works for me. The foreword is an important opener - it states clearly why the book was written: for Brett's son. And in some ways I feel like a voyeur, or someone who has looked inside a gift box knowing the contents are really intended for just one person.
March 6, 2018
Coal Black Mornings is an essential read for anyone who lived through Britpop in the 90s, and anyone who wants a fresh take on the rock autobiography. It's the artfulness of restraint that marks this book out, with Brett's story finishing while Suede were on the cusp of success, stepping away from the gratification of chronicling those glory years. Instead, Brett traces a dog-legged route from his unconventional childhood in a pebbledash council flat on the outskirts of nowhere, through early formative friendships and his first love, and to the formation of his 'gang', the nascent Suede.
It's not a given that talented songwriting will necessarily translate to long prose, but Brett achieves this, lifting and shifting his skill for detailing the squalor, blandness and camaraderie of his Outsiders' England, from lyrics for 'By the Sea', 'Modern Boys', 'The Power' etc. to his early life story.
Not only is the book compelling and well-written, but Brett comes across as likeable and self-deprecating, giving himself criticism and credit in equal measure. I haven't liked a pop star as much since encountering the Elvis of Peter Guralnick's 'Last Train to Memphis' a couple of years ago.
Coal Black Mornings is worthy, and along with Suede's elegiac 2016 album Night Thoughts represents a comeback, a re-invention. It's up there with Luke Haines' 'Bad Vibes: Britpop and My Part in its Downfall', and Louise Wener's 'Different for Girls/Just for One Day' as the essential memoirs of Britpop.
It's not a given that talented songwriting will necessarily translate to long prose, but Brett achieves this, lifting and shifting his skill for detailing the squalor, blandness and camaraderie of his Outsiders' England, from lyrics for 'By the Sea', 'Modern Boys', 'The Power' etc. to his early life story.
Not only is the book compelling and well-written, but Brett comes across as likeable and self-deprecating, giving himself criticism and credit in equal measure. I haven't liked a pop star as much since encountering the Elvis of Peter Guralnick's 'Last Train to Memphis' a couple of years ago.
Coal Black Mornings is worthy, and along with Suede's elegiac 2016 album Night Thoughts represents a comeback, a re-invention. It's up there with Luke Haines' 'Bad Vibes: Britpop and My Part in its Downfall', and Louise Wener's 'Different for Girls/Just for One Day' as the essential memoirs of Britpop.
February 22, 2018
I did umm and aah a bit about whether this was more a three star review rather than a four star but I flew through this and I was much impressed with its honesty so, you know what, I'm in a generous mood!
Suede were always one of the most underrated British band - a group with a unique sound and fluid visual in an era of hyper-masculinity and Brit-pop groups in-fighting. And, in this memoir, frontman Brett takes us behind the scenes in a look back upon his life, his younger years, and the early beginnings of Suede to reveal a man born into a very British poverty, to a family flooded with disappointments and dead-end lives, much like all of us, who embarked on a path to pop fame.
What I liked most about this book is that it stops just as Suede sign their record contract, so the focus here is very much on Brett's formative years, before the corruption and oddities of fame took over his life. There's his childhood in Hemel Hempstead, his first thoughts on music, and an analysis of the roots of Suede's sound and the fluid sexuality they expressed.
O course this being Brett Anderson, I feel this memoir does take itself a bit too seriously at times. This is a book that has a lot of embellished descriptions and metaphors in it. It does feel a little too earnest in place, like it's trying too hard. The title of this book being an example. The phrase 'Coal Black Mornings' is used SEVEN times in this book and you do get a bit, 'yes i get it. a clever phrase.' But in a funny way, that is very Brett so perhaps that's appropriate for this evidently honest and self-analytical memoir.
Suede were always one of the most underrated British band - a group with a unique sound and fluid visual in an era of hyper-masculinity and Brit-pop groups in-fighting. And, in this memoir, frontman Brett takes us behind the scenes in a look back upon his life, his younger years, and the early beginnings of Suede to reveal a man born into a very British poverty, to a family flooded with disappointments and dead-end lives, much like all of us, who embarked on a path to pop fame.
What I liked most about this book is that it stops just as Suede sign their record contract, so the focus here is very much on Brett's formative years, before the corruption and oddities of fame took over his life. There's his childhood in Hemel Hempstead, his first thoughts on music, and an analysis of the roots of Suede's sound and the fluid sexuality they expressed.
O course this being Brett Anderson, I feel this memoir does take itself a bit too seriously at times. This is a book that has a lot of embellished descriptions and metaphors in it. It does feel a little too earnest in place, like it's trying too hard. The title of this book being an example. The phrase 'Coal Black Mornings' is used SEVEN times in this book and you do get a bit, 'yes i get it. a clever phrase.' But in a funny way, that is very Brett so perhaps that's appropriate for this evidently honest and self-analytical memoir.
March 1, 2023
I just love this kind of brutally honest memoir. Anderson deliberately steers away from a completely sugared up story with details that serve some humbug narrative about how success was just written in the stars.
Coal Black Mornings is a beautifully written, philosophical and evocative autobiography that branches out to the influences of upbringing, social environment, peers, pivotal moments on your later life. It is so much more than a rockstar memoir. It's a portrait of a time, a society, an industry...
Being 25 years late at the Suede party and having missed the early nineties as I was too young for the music I would listen to a few years later, this book filled in quite a few gaps. Britpop never extended much further than the Blur-Oasis feud around here. At least, that's how I remember it. I was (and still am) probably way too much into Radiohead anyway.
I love how Anderson gives you insight in his creative process too. It's very inspiring and as a fan it's also nice to get to know how songs came about.
I listened to the audiobook which I can only recommend. Brett Anderson has such a beautiful British accent I could listen to for hours.
Coal Black Mornings is a beautifully written, philosophical and evocative autobiography that branches out to the influences of upbringing, social environment, peers, pivotal moments on your later life. It is so much more than a rockstar memoir. It's a portrait of a time, a society, an industry...
Being 25 years late at the Suede party and having missed the early nineties as I was too young for the music I would listen to a few years later, this book filled in quite a few gaps. Britpop never extended much further than the Blur-Oasis feud around here. At least, that's how I remember it. I was (and still am) probably way too much into Radiohead anyway.
I love how Anderson gives you insight in his creative process too. It's very inspiring and as a fan it's also nice to get to know how songs came about.
I listened to the audiobook which I can only recommend. Brett Anderson has such a beautiful British accent I could listen to for hours.
January 22, 2019
A classy, evocative, spare, poetic, vivid autobiography written by Anderson for his son about his own father.
It tells of his upbringing in light but touching detail - running around a housing estate swinging on lamp-posts while high on mushrooms - and captures the weird melancholy of growing up in an unhappy but normal family. The time, in this case, is the 70s, the place England, but the story is universal.
Anderson gets the tone right from the start and plays the whole thing straight. To make it work he cuts the jokes and dialogue, largely, but there´s a wry tone to the whole thing too - a delight in details like Tivvy´s and the plastic glasses in the student´s union. His evocation of the times - he grew up more or less in the years I did - was to my mind spot-on and far less forced than most novels and, particularly, TV shows or documentaries. His 70s suburbia and 90s London were mine, too, and I remember them like he does.
Well-recommended for anyone with any interest in music or autobiography.
It´s a lovely moody mood piece.
It tells of his upbringing in light but touching detail - running around a housing estate swinging on lamp-posts while high on mushrooms - and captures the weird melancholy of growing up in an unhappy but normal family. The time, in this case, is the 70s, the place England, but the story is universal.
Anderson gets the tone right from the start and plays the whole thing straight. To make it work he cuts the jokes and dialogue, largely, but there´s a wry tone to the whole thing too - a delight in details like Tivvy´s and the plastic glasses in the student´s union. His evocation of the times - he grew up more or less in the years I did - was to my mind spot-on and far less forced than most novels and, particularly, TV shows or documentaries. His 70s suburbia and 90s London were mine, too, and I remember them like he does.
Well-recommended for anyone with any interest in music or autobiography.
It´s a lovely moody mood piece.
January 31, 2020
This really got rave reviews and was named Uncut's Book of the Year. I am a big Suede fan, so this was a no-brainer for me.
In many ways, this is a very ordinary rock bio. It suffers from the fact I finished Johnny Marr's book not that long ago. Marr does a good job of describing the same English background and manages to share his band's story and come across like your best friend at the pub.
You don't learn much about Suede, which I suppose is this book's strength and weakness. I suspect its plaudits lie on the fact anyone can pick it up and relate to it.
Another strength is Anderson is self-aware enough that it's possible there's no better Brett biographer than Brett himself. He knows his weaknesses as well as his strengths. He can identify when he was being immature and also where he is talented. In any case, he comes across as a believable narrator.
All those Suede moments are there (Justine, those sexuality quotes, the time Mike Joyce showed up to answer an ad for a 'drummer who sounds like Mike Joyce"), plus, a few more (Momus cameo, the origin of "Modern Life is Rubbish"); but they are all brief. You will get a few insights into songs but they are besides the point.
It's a short book which probably works in its favor, ending when the band signs to Nude Records.
Mileage may vary with the reader and this book , and even certain sections may have that effect. The fact that it focuses on the aspect of youth and young manhood probably will work to many readers' benefit, and will be fine for Suede die-hards, but will likely disappoint those wanting some Britpop gossip and trash talk.
In many ways, this is a very ordinary rock bio. It suffers from the fact I finished Johnny Marr's book not that long ago. Marr does a good job of describing the same English background and manages to share his band's story and come across like your best friend at the pub.
You don't learn much about Suede, which I suppose is this book's strength and weakness. I suspect its plaudits lie on the fact anyone can pick it up and relate to it.
Another strength is Anderson is self-aware enough that it's possible there's no better Brett biographer than Brett himself. He knows his weaknesses as well as his strengths. He can identify when he was being immature and also where he is talented. In any case, he comes across as a believable narrator.
All those Suede moments are there (Justine, those sexuality quotes, the time Mike Joyce showed up to answer an ad for a 'drummer who sounds like Mike Joyce"), plus, a few more (Momus cameo, the origin of "Modern Life is Rubbish"); but they are all brief. You will get a few insights into songs but they are besides the point.
It's a short book which probably works in its favor, ending when the band signs to Nude Records.
Mileage may vary with the reader and this book , and even certain sections may have that effect. The fact that it focuses on the aspect of youth and young manhood probably will work to many readers' benefit, and will be fine for Suede die-hards, but will likely disappoint those wanting some Britpop gossip and trash talk.
August 23, 2023
The man that wrote “Picnic by the Motorway” need not write the New Literature, despite some attempt. Brett is a god of song, “The Asphalt World,” and too too sexy for the confines of the rectangle. His is the magic circle. However, this is essential for fans in understanding just how much he loved Justine, and the huge influence their split imbued the debut. His candor in that regard, and the respect toward every woman he writes of, is laudable. His love for Mat and Simon is affective and genuine. A book written by an incredible musician that was never unaware of being profoundly good looking, even as a youngster.
Motherfucker!
Motherfucker!
Read
November 4, 2019Over the past 20 years, Brett Anderson has made a number of godawful records, and a few which I enjoyed and then never listened to again. So despite recommendations from friends, I hadn't necessarily planned to read this, until there it was in one of the libraries where I'm not scraping my loans limit and I thought, ah, why not? If I'd paused even to read the blurbs, I probably would have put it straight back on the shelf: when both the Mail on Sunday and John Harris (writing in Mojo, no less) are in favour of something, I'm almost certainly against it. But no: turns out this is rather lovely. Perhaps it shouldn't come as such a surprise, given my mid-nineties period spent trying to emulate Brett's celebrity aspect, but it turns out we come from very similar backgrounds – growing up on the unlovely outskirts of a village that's been eaten by a town which is itself nowhere in particular; families with an eccentric bent but not the finances to back it up; ridiculous retro cars that on occasion felt vaguely like death-traps; waste ground and woods for our favourite playgrounds (though it was a tip for him, whereas I favoured building sites). He's a decade older than me and from a few hundred miles south, but exact preference in boiled sweets aside, this was very much my childhood too. Ditto the parents doing their best not to pass on their own parents' bullshit, but inevitably unable entirely to avoid a bit of the old Larkin, just as we in turn both rebel against and echo our own parents – and then for Anderson there's the further layer of seeing it happen again with his son, who was apparently the main impetus to his writing this. It was written before it had a publisher, and there are times one feels the editor could have been a bit more hands-on; the title is evocative, but dear heavens it gets overused, and the book is littered with little niggling errors: my old nemesis 'Spiderman', the Smiths' Cemetry Gates incorrectly corrected, and somewhere called Goldborne Road. Worst of all, The Persuaders! is stripped of that essential exclamation mark, though isn't it perfect that Brett should have been named both for Lord Brett Sinclair and for that other hero of the days when ITV was any good, Jeremy Brett.
Still, for the most part it's a wonderful read, so evocative of that age which with increasing distance seems ever more magical and ever more shabby, all at once. There's an unavoidable air of Stella Street as paths cross with other no-marks who would also one day become famous (Ricky Gervais' terrible blues singing, Richard Osman storming in to be loudly wrong about Forever Changes, and of course Justine Frischmann, so posh that Brett initially thought she had a speech impediment). It stops just as Suede are finally getting somewhere – because, Brett says, from there he could only offer another perspective on a story already available elsewhere (and here I shall add the obligatory plug for David Barnett's excellent biography of the band). Though we shall see how well that commendable restraint survives the success of this volume. Still, in itself it at once explores and reenacts precisely that love of the particular, as against the faux-universal, which made Suede's first three albums (and assorted B-sides &c almost more so) such touchstones.
Still, for the most part it's a wonderful read, so evocative of that age which with increasing distance seems ever more magical and ever more shabby, all at once. There's an unavoidable air of Stella Street as paths cross with other no-marks who would also one day become famous (Ricky Gervais' terrible blues singing, Richard Osman storming in to be loudly wrong about Forever Changes, and of course Justine Frischmann, so posh that Brett initially thought she had a speech impediment). It stops just as Suede are finally getting somewhere – because, Brett says, from there he could only offer another perspective on a story already available elsewhere (and here I shall add the obligatory plug for David Barnett's excellent biography of the band). Though we shall see how well that commendable restraint survives the success of this volume. Still, in itself it at once explores and reenacts precisely that love of the particular, as against the faux-universal, which made Suede's first three albums (and assorted B-sides &c almost more so) such touchstones.
April 16, 2018
Brett Anderson’s COAL BLACK MORNINGS is less an autobiography than a meditation on how class, upbringing, and relationships with parents, lovers and artistic collaborators drive the creative process. As such, it evokes Patti Smith’s JUST KIDS, heavy company indeed.
Anderson led Suede, a premier ‘Britpop’ band from the 90’s that produced a couple of strong albums and got a ton of attention from the English musical press back when this sort of journalism was influential. There’s a story to tell here, but Anderson smartly doesn’t focus on the usual facile recitation of pop-star debauchery, instead detailing his working-class upbringing and an eccentric father’s influence on his ambitions and imagination. As events progress, iconic characters from this period’s musical scene sweep across the author’s life including Justine Frischman who helped launch Suede, became Anderson’s lover, then dumped him for another musician. Interestingly, the dissolution of Anderson and Frischman’s relationship seemed to free both to achieve more creatively. Frischman formed her own group, Elastica, another very cool band from this era while Suede soon released some of its most creative work. Anderson also details how his affection, cooperation and conflict with talented guitarist Bernard Butler influenced his own writing and musicianship.
Then, full-stop. Just as Suede hits it big, Anderson ends the story. He’s said what he wanted and continuing might wreck the purity of his message.
Though usually engaging and self-aware, Anderson’s writing style is also mannered and self-conscious (he mentions ‘coal black mornings’ at least five times – OK, chill, we get it). And some sections can be a bit too self-congratulatory about the genesis and artistry of Suede’s songs. However, these passages at least show the importance of personal ego in both the songs’ inspirations and in carrying on in the face of initial apathy from a potential audience that only later becomes wildly enthusiastic.
I write contemporary fantasy novels not remotely similar to Anderson’s memoir. Nonetheless, Coal Black Morning’s intense descriptions of settings and people demonstrate good technique for any author. Further, it’s illuminating to peek into what drives artistic effort and developing one’s talent. If there is ever a sequel, it should depend on whether Anderson believes there is more to tell about following your muse as his situation evolves from poverty and public indifference toward fortune and accolades.
Anderson led Suede, a premier ‘Britpop’ band from the 90’s that produced a couple of strong albums and got a ton of attention from the English musical press back when this sort of journalism was influential. There’s a story to tell here, but Anderson smartly doesn’t focus on the usual facile recitation of pop-star debauchery, instead detailing his working-class upbringing and an eccentric father’s influence on his ambitions and imagination. As events progress, iconic characters from this period’s musical scene sweep across the author’s life including Justine Frischman who helped launch Suede, became Anderson’s lover, then dumped him for another musician. Interestingly, the dissolution of Anderson and Frischman’s relationship seemed to free both to achieve more creatively. Frischman formed her own group, Elastica, another very cool band from this era while Suede soon released some of its most creative work. Anderson also details how his affection, cooperation and conflict with talented guitarist Bernard Butler influenced his own writing and musicianship.
Then, full-stop. Just as Suede hits it big, Anderson ends the story. He’s said what he wanted and continuing might wreck the purity of his message.
Though usually engaging and self-aware, Anderson’s writing style is also mannered and self-conscious (he mentions ‘coal black mornings’ at least five times – OK, chill, we get it). And some sections can be a bit too self-congratulatory about the genesis and artistry of Suede’s songs. However, these passages at least show the importance of personal ego in both the songs’ inspirations and in carrying on in the face of initial apathy from a potential audience that only later becomes wildly enthusiastic.
I write contemporary fantasy novels not remotely similar to Anderson’s memoir. Nonetheless, Coal Black Morning’s intense descriptions of settings and people demonstrate good technique for any author. Further, it’s illuminating to peek into what drives artistic effort and developing one’s talent. If there is ever a sequel, it should depend on whether Anderson believes there is more to tell about following your muse as his situation evolves from poverty and public indifference toward fortune and accolades.
May 4, 2018
It is my interest to read memoirs that focus on the early years of its subject matter, due that I wrote a memoir "Tosh" (City Lights Books) that does the same thing. Brett Anderson is the lyricist/songwriter and vocalist for the British band Suede. A band that I had mixed feelings for, but since I read this book by Anderson, I re-listened to his work with Suede, and now I appreciate their music and stance in British pop music of the 1990s. And they are still around, making interesting music. Still, I didn't know what "Coal Black Mornings" will bring to the literary memoir table. It's delicious.
Like a Suede song, Anderson captures the English landscape of poverty and struggling with a family that is partly eccentric - (especially the dad) and the rush of growing up with nothing, yet there is a future if one takes it by the ears and shake it a bit here and there. Born in a situation where Anderson felt trapped, it is art -both literature and music, which saved his hide. This book in a sense is a tribute to being focused on what you want to do, and not to lose sight of that goal or the world you want to obtain. The book ends as Suede signs the recording contract with Nude Records, but the build-up to that point is a delightful read, from a superb prose writer. He does get 'flowery' time-to-time, but it also serves him personality or character-wise, as well.
My main problem with Suede is not the aesthetics, but that their references to their culture are apparent. Saying that, and especially after reading this book, I think I'm a tad of a snob to criticize them for that alone. The fact is that they can write songs like "Trash," while not totally original, is nevertheless a beautiful pop record with an excellent (catchy) chorus. And "Coal Black Mornings" deals with that subject matter, with Anderson's approach to the songwriting craft, and his ability to stand alone, along with his bandmates, to work on the final product until they find it suitable.
I'm not sure what Anderson is like in person, but in this book, he's very nice to his fellow musicians and seems to be very fair-minded chap. So, this is not a gossipy book or one where he settles old scores, but more of an upbeat tale of his youth and hard work to obtain his vision. In theory, these type of books are a bore, but due to his writing skills and insightful way he can describe London in such poetic but realistic terms, this book is a real winner.
Like a Suede song, Anderson captures the English landscape of poverty and struggling with a family that is partly eccentric - (especially the dad) and the rush of growing up with nothing, yet there is a future if one takes it by the ears and shake it a bit here and there. Born in a situation where Anderson felt trapped, it is art -both literature and music, which saved his hide. This book in a sense is a tribute to being focused on what you want to do, and not to lose sight of that goal or the world you want to obtain. The book ends as Suede signs the recording contract with Nude Records, but the build-up to that point is a delightful read, from a superb prose writer. He does get 'flowery' time-to-time, but it also serves him personality or character-wise, as well.
My main problem with Suede is not the aesthetics, but that their references to their culture are apparent. Saying that, and especially after reading this book, I think I'm a tad of a snob to criticize them for that alone. The fact is that they can write songs like "Trash," while not totally original, is nevertheless a beautiful pop record with an excellent (catchy) chorus. And "Coal Black Mornings" deals with that subject matter, with Anderson's approach to the songwriting craft, and his ability to stand alone, along with his bandmates, to work on the final product until they find it suitable.
I'm not sure what Anderson is like in person, but in this book, he's very nice to his fellow musicians and seems to be very fair-minded chap. So, this is not a gossipy book or one where he settles old scores, but more of an upbeat tale of his youth and hard work to obtain his vision. In theory, these type of books are a bore, but due to his writing skills and insightful way he can describe London in such poetic but realistic terms, this book is a real winner.
March 21, 2018
Beautifully written, rivals Just Kids in a sense. We cheer for success, validation for our hero - even though we know of course that he does make it. Wonderful suspension of disbelief there. And a beautiful examination of how back-story is crucial, is context, is key.
October 26, 2019
Shame he dies in the end.
September 23, 2018
Sempre digo que o SUEDE é uma das bandas mais desvalorizadas e subestimadas do que se convencionou chamar 'britpop', acabaram ofuscados pelo brilho de Oasis e Blur que são bandas foda claro mas que jamais existiriam se não fosse pelo SUEDE.
Nesta bio, Brett lança alguma luz sobre surgiu a banda, sua vida antes dela e o que move sua escrita, bela, de uma poesia única e urbanidade cortante, sempre pensei em suas letras como rasgos no tecido do asfalto da cidade e uma espiada nos dramas que se escondem entre as paredes surdas da urbe.
Não espere fofocas ou histórias sórdidas sobre a busca pela fama, ele foge desse clichê e deixa água na boca justamente quando o SUEDE parte para voos mais altos deixando sonhar sobre o que veio depois o que entendo, já é de conhecimento de todos que amam a banda mas esse antes que aborda em seu livro traz preciosas informações sobre ele e a formação da banda.
Faça como eu e ouça novamente os discos do SUEDE depois de ler esse livro, terá outra percepção, garanto!
Nesta bio, Brett lança alguma luz sobre surgiu a banda, sua vida antes dela e o que move sua escrita, bela, de uma poesia única e urbanidade cortante, sempre pensei em suas letras como rasgos no tecido do asfalto da cidade e uma espiada nos dramas que se escondem entre as paredes surdas da urbe.
Não espere fofocas ou histórias sórdidas sobre a busca pela fama, ele foge desse clichê e deixa água na boca justamente quando o SUEDE parte para voos mais altos deixando sonhar sobre o que veio depois o que entendo, já é de conhecimento de todos que amam a banda mas esse antes que aborda em seu livro traz preciosas informações sobre ele e a formação da banda.
Faça como eu e ouça novamente os discos do SUEDE depois de ler esse livro, terá outra percepção, garanto!
January 25, 2019
Tämän kirjan kohdalla on mahdotonta olla objektiivinen. Suede on kaikkien aikojen suurin suosikkibändini ja henkilöityy niin vahvasti Brett Andersonin persoonaan, olemukseen, ääneen ja sanoihin, että luonnollisesti Andersonin muistelmakirja oli minulle kiehtovaa luettavaa.
Kirja kertoo Andersonin omasta henkilöhistoriasta sekä Sueden tarinasta ennen Suedea. Anderson kertoo muistelmiensa tarinat luontevasti, elävästi ja omintakeisesti, ja mukana on sekä kuivaa huumoria että rehellisen liikuttavia hetkiä. Luin kirjan englanniksi, ja teksti oli lukiessa helppo kuulla Andersonin äänellä. Myönnettäköön tosin, että herran sanavarasto on sen verran omaani erikoisempi, että aina silloin tällöin jouduin tarkistamaan käännöksiä sanakirjasta saadakseni jonkin lauseenkäänteen vivahteista tarkemmin kiinni. Seuraavaksi aion lukea kirjan heti perään suomeksi, ja on kiinnostavaa nähdä, miten kaikin puolin niin umpibrittiläinen ja "suedemainen" teksti kääntyy.
Suedemaisia andersonismeja oli tekstissä muutoinkin yllin kyllin: On hyvin tunnettu asia, että Andersonilla on selkeitä suosikkisanoja ja fraaseja, joita vuosien saatossa on tullut viljeltyä siellä täällä esimerkiksi usean eri kappaleen lyriikoissa. Se vähän niin kuin kuuluu jo asiaan. Mutta siinä kohtaa, kun kirjan ensimmäisen luvun aikana oli käytetty jo kolmeen kertaan kuvausta "pebble-dashed", olisin kuvitellut jonkun kustannustoimittajan tai muun ulkopuolisen tahon huomauttavan, että "tiesitkös, Brett, kun on olemassa myös muita adjektiiveja". Mutta eihän ne muut kuulostaisi niin Brettiltä. Annan anteeksi.
Kirja loppui dramaturgisesti juuri sopivassa kohdassa, Sueden menestyksen kynnyksellä. Olisin kuitenkin voinut jatkaa lukemista vielä pitkään, koska kirja vei niin elävästi mukanaan sen Suede-maailman sisälle, jonka Anderson kertoo aina halunneensa bändinsä ympärille luoda. Ja on siinä onnistunut.
Kirja kertoo Andersonin omasta henkilöhistoriasta sekä Sueden tarinasta ennen Suedea. Anderson kertoo muistelmiensa tarinat luontevasti, elävästi ja omintakeisesti, ja mukana on sekä kuivaa huumoria että rehellisen liikuttavia hetkiä. Luin kirjan englanniksi, ja teksti oli lukiessa helppo kuulla Andersonin äänellä. Myönnettäköön tosin, että herran sanavarasto on sen verran omaani erikoisempi, että aina silloin tällöin jouduin tarkistamaan käännöksiä sanakirjasta saadakseni jonkin lauseenkäänteen vivahteista tarkemmin kiinni. Seuraavaksi aion lukea kirjan heti perään suomeksi, ja on kiinnostavaa nähdä, miten kaikin puolin niin umpibrittiläinen ja "suedemainen" teksti kääntyy.
Suedemaisia andersonismeja oli tekstissä muutoinkin yllin kyllin: On hyvin tunnettu asia, että Andersonilla on selkeitä suosikkisanoja ja fraaseja, joita vuosien saatossa on tullut viljeltyä siellä täällä esimerkiksi usean eri kappaleen lyriikoissa. Se vähän niin kuin kuuluu jo asiaan. Mutta siinä kohtaa, kun kirjan ensimmäisen luvun aikana oli käytetty jo kolmeen kertaan kuvausta "pebble-dashed", olisin kuvitellut jonkun kustannustoimittajan tai muun ulkopuolisen tahon huomauttavan, että "tiesitkös, Brett, kun on olemassa myös muita adjektiiveja". Mutta eihän ne muut kuulostaisi niin Brettiltä. Annan anteeksi.
Kirja loppui dramaturgisesti juuri sopivassa kohdassa, Sueden menestyksen kynnyksellä. Olisin kuitenkin voinut jatkaa lukemista vielä pitkään, koska kirja vei niin elävästi mukanaan sen Suede-maailman sisälle, jonka Anderson kertoo aina halunneensa bändinsä ympärille luoda. Ja on siinä onnistunut.
March 10, 2018
Well. I knew this book was going to be good. The reviews were promising, all the right things were being said in the pre-release interviews. The pretext was great. However, I was unprepared for the effect the book has had on me. I’ve deliberately made it last three days, as I could so easily have downed it in one. Cover to delicious cover.
I feel like I’ve been under a religious spell for 3 days, and a deep love has been rekindled. The first two Suede albums were so profoundly beautiful, intense, novel, ludicrously brilliant, even hilariously brilliant. There was the difficult spell where that hard won integrity was lost for two albums before Suede disbanded, only to recently rescue the legacy with two albums of huge merit, Bloodsports, and Night Thoughts. Brett has now continued that rescue mission with total impunity. There was no guarantee he would be able to turn his talents to long prose. One of his seminal influences failed miserably, and the protagonist of said mess is a rather miserable mess now. This is the book Morrissey wanted to write. Brett’s prose is engaging, lyrical, yet somehow profoundly earnest and self deprecating. The book stops just at the point where it was all about to happen for Suede. It is a tale of a forgotten time. Things could have been so different if Suede hadn’t come along, both for me personally, and British music as a whole. The first album had balls and integrity. During my formative years I could have gone to war armed with any band. I chose the right band. I write this review with the eponymous album on my headphones. A few bands have been described as the best New Band in Britain over the years. No band has worn that accolade with as much justification as Suede.
Read this book. Revisit your youth. Listen to the first album again, and walk with a wiggle in your stride.
I feel like I’ve been under a religious spell for 3 days, and a deep love has been rekindled. The first two Suede albums were so profoundly beautiful, intense, novel, ludicrously brilliant, even hilariously brilliant. There was the difficult spell where that hard won integrity was lost for two albums before Suede disbanded, only to recently rescue the legacy with two albums of huge merit, Bloodsports, and Night Thoughts. Brett has now continued that rescue mission with total impunity. There was no guarantee he would be able to turn his talents to long prose. One of his seminal influences failed miserably, and the protagonist of said mess is a rather miserable mess now. This is the book Morrissey wanted to write. Brett’s prose is engaging, lyrical, yet somehow profoundly earnest and self deprecating. The book stops just at the point where it was all about to happen for Suede. It is a tale of a forgotten time. Things could have been so different if Suede hadn’t come along, both for me personally, and British music as a whole. The first album had balls and integrity. During my formative years I could have gone to war armed with any band. I chose the right band. I write this review with the eponymous album on my headphones. A few bands have been described as the best New Band in Britain over the years. No band has worn that accolade with as much justification as Suede.
Read this book. Revisit your youth. Listen to the first album again, and walk with a wiggle in your stride.
April 17, 2018
When I was 12 years old in 1993 I heard ”Animal Nitrate” for the first time on the radio and was completely floored by the new kind of music flowing into my ears, in all it’s raw and dark nature. I had never heard such a voice and never had I before been so interested in trying to interpret the lyrics to a song before. I wanted to know everything about this band and even though my English skills were limited I begged my parents for money for music magazines from the UK to find out more (lovely were the times before the Internet). The year after I got to see Suede live for the first time and then began a period of 10 years of being a huge fan of all of their work, and a life-long love for Suede.
That said, I didn’t have super high hopes for the book - the biographies I’ve read of other stars have been a bit boring and or pretentious, and most of the things are just repetitions of what you’ve already heard over the years. But THIS book is not written like that. I love (LOVE) how this is about Brett Anderson’s young years, up until the record deal. I also really like how it is written with the utmost respect for every person portrayed, and even if you can tell the tension in the family sometimes there is also so much love and understanding of where your roots have grown, no matter how dark. I think it is a very poetic book, beautifully and smart written with a clever title that keeps reappearing, and it left me longing for more. All of the details about how the songs were born, about personal traits of the band members, and even small things, like young Brett’s intake of Marmite sandwiches made me sit with a smile reading on the train. I wish I could read a 1000 more pages. Bravo.
That said, I didn’t have super high hopes for the book - the biographies I’ve read of other stars have been a bit boring and or pretentious, and most of the things are just repetitions of what you’ve already heard over the years. But THIS book is not written like that. I love (LOVE) how this is about Brett Anderson’s young years, up until the record deal. I also really like how it is written with the utmost respect for every person portrayed, and even if you can tell the tension in the family sometimes there is also so much love and understanding of where your roots have grown, no matter how dark. I think it is a very poetic book, beautifully and smart written with a clever title that keeps reappearing, and it left me longing for more. All of the details about how the songs were born, about personal traits of the band members, and even small things, like young Brett’s intake of Marmite sandwiches made me sit with a smile reading on the train. I wish I could read a 1000 more pages. Bravo.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 13, 2023
Brett Anderson berättar om uppväxtåren i det lilla samhället mellan Brighton och London. Familjen bodde på en estate, och det fanns inga pengar, men det kulturella kapitalet var starkt. Om föräldrarna skriver Brett att "they filled my life with a rich tapestry of art and music and books and beauty."
Sig själv beskriver Brett som "not nihilistic or depressive really, but definitely glum", där han satt på sitt lilla rum och lyssnade på The Smiths och Joy Division. (Hand upp om det känns bekant?!) Uttrycket coal black mornings dyker upp rytmiskt boken igenom. Älskade den verkligen!
Blev blott lite uttråkad när Brett förlorar sig i nostalgi ang. studentlivet och vi får veta alla detaljer om hur de satt på golvet och åt pistagenötter. Även om boken slutar precis vid Suedes genombrott är det också en del överflödiga detaljer om olika Mikes och Steves och deras musikinstrument e.dyl.
Anderson har ett spännande ordförråd - eller en fyllig Thesaurus; tantalising, priapic förekommer ett par ggr... - och använder mycket fransk vokabulär, som élan och outré. I ett par poddar framgick det att han faktiskt pratar på det viset.
https://www.buzzsprout.com/650782/196...
Har nog inte läst en bättre självbiografi sedan Oliver Sacks On the Move, i kombination med Bill Hayes Insomniac City.
Sig själv beskriver Brett som "not nihilistic or depressive really, but definitely glum", där han satt på sitt lilla rum och lyssnade på The Smiths och Joy Division. (Hand upp om det känns bekant?!) Uttrycket coal black mornings dyker upp rytmiskt boken igenom. Älskade den verkligen!
Blev blott lite uttråkad när Brett förlorar sig i nostalgi ang. studentlivet och vi får veta alla detaljer om hur de satt på golvet och åt pistagenötter. Även om boken slutar precis vid Suedes genombrott är det också en del överflödiga detaljer om olika Mikes och Steves och deras musikinstrument e.dyl.
Anderson har ett spännande ordförråd - eller en fyllig Thesaurus; tantalising, priapic förekommer ett par ggr... - och använder mycket fransk vokabulär, som élan och outré. I ett par poddar framgick det att han faktiskt pratar på det viset.
https://www.buzzsprout.com/650782/196...
Har nog inte läst en bättre självbiografi sedan Oliver Sacks On the Move, i kombination med Bill Hayes Insomniac City.
April 1, 2018
Enjoyed this so much, I adored Suede, they plastered my bedroom walls and were the sound of my teenage years, the thrill and excitement of listening to the first album on my worn out cassette tape has come back to me reading this autobiography. Brett Anderson does a wonderful job of recalling his early life, his parents and then Justine and early Suede, without being gossipy.
It’s a short book and if I said I didn’t want more salacious details about Justine and Bernard etc I’d be lying, but this isn’t a book about sex, drugs and rock and roll. It is, I think, a very honest account written with his children in mind, about an ‘ordinary’ life in Britain in the ‘80s and early ‘90s, about reflecting on his roots, and about a love of music and writing music.
It’s a short book and if I said I didn’t want more salacious details about Justine and Bernard etc I’d be lying, but this isn’t a book about sex, drugs and rock and roll. It is, I think, a very honest account written with his children in mind, about an ‘ordinary’ life in Britain in the ‘80s and early ‘90s, about reflecting on his roots, and about a love of music and writing music.
March 28, 2018
Closer to Jeanette Winterson's "Why be happy when you could be normal?"than a music memoir; shelve under Literature. While Brett's childhood was poorer and stranger than most, for anyone growing up in England in the 60s/70s there is much that is familiar: rainy caravan holidays, beans on toast for tea, provincial dullness. The first two Suede albums made an impact on me but this is so well-written: thoughtful, reflective, funny and compassionate. Even more than as an artist he impresses as a man.
June 6, 2018
A fascinating and compulsive look at the formative years of one of the most intriguing and essential musicians of my generation... Or any other for that matter. You don't need to be a Suede fan to enjoy this, but if - like me - you are, then all of the traits that make the lyricist so captivating are present in the prose. It's brutal yet heart-warming, honest and erudite. Whilst the latest Suede albums are clear evidence that the band still has much to give - I'd love to read more from Brett Anderson the author. A novel perhaps?
April 9, 2023
Realistically, it’s closer to a 3.5 or even a 3, but I’m biased. Felt like it could have been edited better because I just took issue with the formatting at times. Also Love you Brett but you don’t have to repeat the name of your book several times within the book, itself. It’s a gorgeous title, but I say use it only once or twice (MAXIMUM).
Got a lot of fun facts out of this and I’m going to be stealing a lot of his music taste and vocabulary. Pleasant.
Got a lot of fun facts out of this and I’m going to be stealing a lot of his music taste and vocabulary. Pleasant.
December 23, 2019
I got into music properly in 1996 so I missed Suede’s creative heyday, and by the time they finally turned up on my radar with ‘Trash’ they were already sans Bernard Butler. They play a part in my formative years, for reasons that don’t all relate to the music, but despite meeting all the criteria of a band who would be ‘mine’ they always felt like a band I slightly missed the boat on. ‘Coming Up’ was metallic, frothy, while their supposed masterpieces sounded broody, self-serious: older brother stuff. Still, this was £3 at the Works and I’d heard good things.
Unsurprisingly Anderson, whose lyrics are all tears falling on petrol-stained asphalt, can create an evocative description. His family - father in silk dressing gown conducting Liszt in his living room before going to his cab driving shift, mother making the children’s clothes and painting landscapes - hint at a suburban 70s Moomins. When Justine Frischmann finally turns up, it’s what would have happened if the girl with the thirst for knowledge who studied sculpture at St Martins College was actually serious about living like common people for non-tourism reasons. When his mother finally divorces his father and moves to Cumbria with a new partner, only to be diagnosed with terminal cancer, Anderson handles the passage with an elegant grace.
The stated initial aim of the book was to create a descriptive piece, to give Anderson’s son an impression of who he was, where he came from and how his parents shaped him (and how his parents had in turn been shaped by their parents). He doesn’t write about Suede’s stardom, merely the lead up to it, and even this may have been at the behest of a publisher realising his audience would want Suede scoops. He is gracious about the breakup with Justine, but perhaps less so about the unnamed Damon Albarn (for whom Frischmann left him), who is subtweeted so many times that Anderson must have been worried Albarn would vanity search the book, but otherwise not read it. Suede were creating their own Englishness in 1991 while others who would adopt it as their own were still stuck between shoegaze and baggy, you say? Can you give us any examples?
‘Coal Black Mornings’ perhaps overdelivers against expectations and against my level of admiration for Anderson’s music. He didn’t intend to do a book about his fame years (supposedly he felt no affinity with any of Suede’s peers, despite describing his own music in language that also describes Pulp), but has changed his mind. I look forward to reading it; I’m sure Anderson has poetic turns of phrase for these days too and, as Britpop autobiographies go, he only has to beat Alex James’s awful ‘A Bit of a Blur’.
Unsurprisingly Anderson, whose lyrics are all tears falling on petrol-stained asphalt, can create an evocative description. His family - father in silk dressing gown conducting Liszt in his living room before going to his cab driving shift, mother making the children’s clothes and painting landscapes - hint at a suburban 70s Moomins. When Justine Frischmann finally turns up, it’s what would have happened if the girl with the thirst for knowledge who studied sculpture at St Martins College was actually serious about living like common people for non-tourism reasons. When his mother finally divorces his father and moves to Cumbria with a new partner, only to be diagnosed with terminal cancer, Anderson handles the passage with an elegant grace.
The stated initial aim of the book was to create a descriptive piece, to give Anderson’s son an impression of who he was, where he came from and how his parents shaped him (and how his parents had in turn been shaped by their parents). He doesn’t write about Suede’s stardom, merely the lead up to it, and even this may have been at the behest of a publisher realising his audience would want Suede scoops. He is gracious about the breakup with Justine, but perhaps less so about the unnamed Damon Albarn (for whom Frischmann left him), who is subtweeted so many times that Anderson must have been worried Albarn would vanity search the book, but otherwise not read it. Suede were creating their own Englishness in 1991 while others who would adopt it as their own were still stuck between shoegaze and baggy, you say? Can you give us any examples?
‘Coal Black Mornings’ perhaps overdelivers against expectations and against my level of admiration for Anderson’s music. He didn’t intend to do a book about his fame years (supposedly he felt no affinity with any of Suede’s peers, despite describing his own music in language that also describes Pulp), but has changed his mind. I look forward to reading it; I’m sure Anderson has poetic turns of phrase for these days too and, as Britpop autobiographies go, he only has to beat Alex James’s awful ‘A Bit of a Blur’.
November 28, 2024
Great read and listen. Brett Andersons story is more than Suede. Sure he's the overtly hyper-sexual lead singer of Suede and the person everyone wants to bed, but this is the story we don't know of Brett pre Suede. We meet his eclectic parents, growing up in a poorer neighborhood, and his v awesome sister. We see how the band formed, from friendships in uni, to an ad in the paper. That one time Mike Joyce (the smiths) responded to a drummer ad. And yes, the woman du jour, Justine Frischmann of Elastica. Of course, she was just Justine a co-ed in uni architecture classes. She hadnt yet broken his heart.
Whether or not you know the band, if you like music bios, this is a good one. And with the audiobook you get a q&a at the end. And to think, this was written for his son to share his story. Rather tugs at your heartstrings a bit.
Whether or not you know the band, if you like music bios, this is a good one. And with the audiobook you get a q&a at the end. And to think, this was written for his son to share his story. Rather tugs at your heartstrings a bit.
September 25, 2025
I knew Brett Anderson could write great songs, but he also writes wonderful books. Coal Black Mornings must be one of my favorite memoirs by a musician. No ghost-writing here: you can hear Brett's voice as he tells the tale of his childhood in poverty in Hayward Heath, his complicated relationship with his parents (especially his father) and the very, very humble beginnings of Suede around 1990.
It really is beautifully written. Very moving at times. I love how he writes about Justine Frischmann and about meeting Suede members Mat Osman and Bernard Butler: honest, with great affection, in a beautifully self-effacing way. Finally, I think the slow process that every musician and songwriter goes through (from sexless and shit to 'actually pretty good' and then even more than that), has never been described as well as Brett describes it here. No mercy, but no false modesty either. It's a great book about finding one's voice, as a songwriter, as a singer, as a young man. Absolutely loved it.
Now, on to part two: 'Afternoons With the Blinds Drawn'.
It really is beautifully written. Very moving at times. I love how he writes about Justine Frischmann and about meeting Suede members Mat Osman and Bernard Butler: honest, with great affection, in a beautifully self-effacing way. Finally, I think the slow process that every musician and songwriter goes through (from sexless and shit to 'actually pretty good' and then even more than that), has never been described as well as Brett describes it here. No mercy, but no false modesty either. It's a great book about finding one's voice, as a songwriter, as a singer, as a young man. Absolutely loved it.
Now, on to part two: 'Afternoons With the Blinds Drawn'.
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