Afternoons with the Blinds Drawn

by Brett Anderson

The trajectory of Suede - hailed in infancy as both 'The Best New Band in Britain' and 'effete southern wankers' - is recalled with moving candour by its frontman Brett Anderson, whose vivid memoir swings seamlessly between the tender, witty, turbulent, euphoric and bittersweet.

Suede began by treading the familiar jobbing route of London's emerging new 1990s indie bands - gigs at ULU, the Camden Powerhaus and the Old Trout in Windsor - and the dispiriting experience of playing a set to an audience of one. But in these halcyon days, their potential was undeniable. Anderson's creative partnership with guitarist Bernard Butler exposed a unique and brilliant hybrid of lyric and sound; together they were a luminescent team - burning brightly and creating some of the era's most revered songs and albums.

In Afternoons with the Blinds drawn, Anderson unflinchingly explores his relationship with addiction, heartfelt in the regret that early musical bonds were severed, and clear-eyed on his youthful persona. 'As a young man . . . I oscillated between morbid self-reflection and vainglorious narcissism' he writes. His honesty, sharply self-aware and articulate, makes this a compelling autobiography, and a brilliant insight into one of the most significant bands of the last quarter century.

Genres: Music, Nonfiction, Memoir, Biography, Autobiography, Biography Memoir, Audiobook

280 pages, Hardcover

First published October 3, 2019

About the author

Brett 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.)

Reviews

[Carrie Lofty · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brett Anderson, co-founder of the iconic 1990s English indie rock back Suede, made an exceptional literary debut with his 2018 memoir, Coal Black Mornings, which surprised readers and charmed critics, in part because of his steadfast determination to present his childhood as just that: a childhood. The book ends at the pivotal moment when Suede sign their first contract with Nude Records, when most rock memoirs would really take off. Bring on tales of success and excess!

The first chapter of Afternoons with the Blinds Drawn is titled 'The Book I Said I Wouldn't Write,' in that Anderson never intended to delve into the 'coke and gold disks' era of Suede's 1990s success and eventual collapse in 2003. After all, insider David Barnett's rather encyclopedic Suede: The Authorized Biography digs so deeply into the band's tumultuous history that one might wonder if anything remains to be rehashed. Anderson, aware of how intensely the band's history has been chronicled, skirts those tried tales like a sidewinder, weaving an almost parallel world where his thoughts on the music industry and his insights into songs, themes, influences, regrets, and best intentions are his alone to provide.

Those seeking a titillating tell-all—especially regarding Anderson's drug use—can move along. Considering the halting yet honest way he described his addiction in Mike Christie's documentary Suede: The Insatiable Ones, I would've been genuinely surprised to find anything lurid here. Instead, on occasion, the rawness of his pain is so intense that he relies on third person, as if the only way he can put that part of his life on public display is to describe himself as an entirely different person. That distance is obscuring but all the more powerful because of the guts it must've taken to commit to paper at all.

To be frank, I don't know if Afternoons with the Blinds Drawn will resonate as well as Anderson's debut, which is so finely rendered that people from different circumstances can find common ground in a shared sense of alienation, ambition, love, family, and the precariousness of childhood innocence. This second chapter offers insights more particular to Suede and the 1990s British music scene, which could leave less diehard readers a little lost. That said, Anderson's first impressions of keyboardist Neil Codling, as well as the band's lead guitarist since 1994, Richard Oakes, are examples of just how much his bandmates have touched his life and continue to occupy his thoughts.

As with his debut, Anderson writes with a fierce love of the English language and all its range, while the lyric beauty of his chosen medium—songwriting—shines through. This is the story of a pop star who survived a decade filled with highs and lows few of us can imagine, a story that could only be told in retrospect by a man with an almost obsessive drive toward self-awareness. He is in turn cheeky, arrogant, self-effacing, and sardonic, and I dearly hope for further installments—because for Brett Anderson and Suede, who reformed in 2010, some of the best years have yet to be written.

Note: I received an advanced review copy in exchange for my honest review.

[Nigeyb · Rating 3 out of 5]

I really enjoyed Brett Anderson's first memoir Coal Black Mornings. It ends just as Suede get their record deal and finally start gaining their unstoppable momentum and focusses on Brett’s early life and the pre-fame years, and was therefore not the standard rock memoir.

Afternoons with the Blinds Drawn is the follow up and which Brett Anderson needed some convincing to write. Whilst anyone could read and enjoy Coal Black Mornings you need to have some interest in Brett's group Suede to read and enjoy Afternoons with the Blinds Drawn.

By no means a mega-fan, I like both Brett and Suede and found it interesting and worthwhile. Brett consciously tries to avoid a detailed account and, instead, tries to reflect upon his decisions, behaviour and shortcomings. No score settling here and a few mea culpas. That said it is not as good as the first installment and seems to fall between two stools. I doubt it satisfies the hardcore fan any more than it is likely to grip the casual reader. It's fine, and Brett is a wonderful writer, but it felt too careful and with too much self censoring.

3/5

[Tim · Rating 4 out of 5]

I think one of the most fascinating things of Brett Anderson's two books about his life in the music biz is the insights they provide into how insecurity is alchemised into confidence. And just as pop star glamour is often about excess so too is his prose style so it's weirdly fitting that he overwrites just about every sentence. All in all this is a compelling take on the nature of fame.

[Tosh · Rating 3 out of 5]

I avoided Suede in the early years because I was turned off by their image for some reason. Sort of second-generation or even third-generation glam didn't sound that hot to me. Over the years I warmed to their records, and last year I bought and read Brett Anderson's first memoir of his childhood and teenage years. That book is excellent. A very detailed description of his surroundings and a fascinating and eccentric father. "Afternoon with the Blinds Drawn" focuses on the high years of Suede, and it is not as compelling as the first volume. For one, I can sense Anderson didn't really want to write about the Suede decades, but perhaps due to the success of the first volume, he or his publishers pushed him to go on.

Still, he's a very good prose writer. Sometimes when you write about your success, it's not the most interesting part of one's life. I sense there will be a third volume, and that may be more interesting due to new family, his band getting together, and how middle-age life is like when you're still rockin'.

[P BAMLETT · Rating 5 out of 5]

Literate and fascinating

I have read hundreds of rock biographies and this book stands head and shoulders above the majority of them. It is a self deprecating ,all written dissection of the authors experiences. Coal Black Mornings is a good read ,this is even better. A third volume would be welcome.

[Anna · Rating 4 out of 5]

4,5*. Fantastically well written. Nostalgic in places but not sentimental. Possibly the only book I’ve read which mentions Batiste dry shampoo twice (it is by far the best).

[Niklas Pivic · Rating 4 out of 5]

I enjoyed Brett Anderson’s first autobiographical book, “Coal Black Mornings“, immensely. Anderson proved to be eloquent, engaging, and terse, all in good ways.

This second book should never have been. I mean, the first chapter of the book is “The book I said I would never write”.

The first one finished where Suede was just about to hit the big time, which they did.

The response to Suede was so disproportionate that there seemed to be very few historical parallels, and while it’s not something that I’m particularly proud of it’s something that needs to be addressed as it became an integral element to our story. For those who weren’t there or who have forgotten it might give a sense of the scale of the media reaction to say that even before the debut album was released we would end up gracing nineteen front covers. It was a phenomenon that of course was bound to have pernicious consequences, not least with Bernard’s later rejection and drift away from the band, but while the frothy delirium still seemed like fun we just gripped on to the seat in front of us and enjoyed the ride.

There’s a lot to be said for Anderson’s ways of going about “the ride”.

Most rock bands tend to follow the same predictable trudge along the same predictable roads through the same predictable check-points, as preordained as the life cycle of a frog or something and so the tale is always going to have an air of inevitability, especially when everyone knows what happens in the last chapter. So instead what I’m going to try to do in these pages is to use elements of my own story as a way to reach out and reveal the broader picture, to look at my journey from struggle to success and to self-destruction and back again and use that narrative to talk about some of the forces that acted on me and to maybe uncover some sort of truth about the machinery that whirrs away, often unseen, especially by those on whom it is working, to create the bands that people hear on the radio. This might seem a little ambitious but it’s my way of trying to claim some sort of ownership over the second part of my story, a story that was so assiduously documented by the media and which certainly doesn’t need another retelling in that conventional form.

This is, miraculously, what saves the book from becoming another predictable book in the annals of rock lore. Anderson is acutely aware of the fact that he did become a bit of a rock cliché where drugs—and what Neil Tennant from Pet Shop Boys calls “the imperial phase”, i.e. the timespan where a band thinks it’s mastered the artform—are concerned with all the problems that easily and quickly follow.

Hindsight is a wonderful thing, and it is very beneficial in this case.

As a Suede fan back in the day—for the first two albums, I must add—I recall Anderson and Bernard Butler’s sniping words at each other via music mags. It was a complete debacle, a fight that I think shouldn’t have happened in public. Anderson writes about it in beauteous and apologetic fashion without drawing it out for too long. This is but one example of the many strengths of this book and how hindsight really does play a major key. Or, to quote Anderson quoting Heraclitus; I paraphrase:

A man does not step in the same river twice. The man is not the same and the river is not the same.

Another quote:

Young men plunged into the crucible of success are by their very nature immature and instinctive and impetuous. These are the fiery ingredients that also spark drama and creativity and the thrilling imbalance and sense of potential disaster that make the spectacle so exciting to witness. Without this essential ‘flaw’ in their characters the whole thing would be far less interesting but of course it’s a precarious house of cards, always teetering on the point of collapse. Sellotaping over the cracks and disregarding the damage we spluttered on regardless.

Superfan David Barnett wrote “Suede: The Authorised Biography”, a highly gossipy and insightful book. Where Anderson’s first book did not go, was into that territory, which this one dips its toes into. It’s not a bad thing, but if I were to chip away at something, it’s some minutiae that’s, frankly, boring; recalled stuff from Suede recordings, quotes from Anderson’s personal driver, etc. just turned me off. Luckily, there’s not much of it in this book.

One of the good things with this book is that it’s not merely a look back in time. Here’s an example:

This will probably get me into trouble and I’d love to be proved wrong and maybe I’m too out of touch to be able to see it clearly but unfortunately I just can’t see where the game-changing scenes and the movements of the digital age are likely to come from. I feel that the defining cultural event of our times – social media – has cast such a huge shadow and even though people still passionately love music it has become more of a lifestyle accessory rather than a central, defining core of their being and because of that its impact and its generational resonance has waned.

And while I’m up on my soap-box I may as well take the opportunity to blather on a little about some other broader issues. I think it should worry everyone deeply that since the decimation of the music business at first by internet piracy and then by the proliferation of streaming services it is increasingly hard for artists who make left-field marginal music to make a living. Of course there are always anomalies but I’ve noticed that the sort of new bands who would have had healthy lucrative careers back in the seventies and eighties and nineties making interesting, non-commercial music are struggling to survive.

Clearly this raises class issues. Are we to assume that working-class voices will be virtually unheard in alternative music in a few years’ time because it’s just no longer seen as a viable career and the only way left-field bands can survive is if they are bank-rolled by well-off parents? However there are wider and even more troubling implications beyond this. Right now it’s a phenomenon that probably doesn’t unduly worry those denizens of the upper echelons of the music industry who are still earning big money making mainstream pop music but it really should.

The strata of the creative world are all linked and in many ways co-dependent rather like an ecosystem. Not wishing to sound over-simplistic it seems to me that the more creative marginal musicians have always been the creatures that the commercial artists have fed off, diluting and sanitising and popularising their ideas. In the same way that if plant life were to die out it would create a chain of events that would lead to the extinction of carnivores, so I believe that the work done at the margins of the music industry is utterly essential to the health of the music world as a whole.

Without this motor that generates ideas we can envisage a sort of bleak cultural vacuum whereby the only starting points that commercial artists have are increasingly based on copies of previous historic successes leading to a horribly nostalgic, ersatz musical landscape that is meaningless and devoid of any traction or worth or vitality. Some might argue that we arrived at that point many years ago; the success of The X Factor and Faux-town amongst other pop movements would seem to support their case and mainstream music has always had a proclivity towards sentimentalism, but at least there are glimmers of interesting work…

Some of the honest insight laid bare in this book is among the most painful to read:

Bernard’s father, who had been ill for some time, died on the eve of the tour. Ashen-faced, we all received the news while in a hotel in New York. For some insane reason instead of cancelling the tour and giving him the time to grieve and the space to try to recover we just truncated it. It was a terrible, terrible mistake as Bernard became understandably more and more withdrawn and distant as the days wore on and I, yet to develop the emotional maturity to be able to reach out and comfort him as a friend, began to cravenly hide within the excesses of life on the road. As we pulled in different directions our relationship began to splinter and we began to demonise each other creating a chain of events from which we would never ever recover.

Altogether, this is a quite beautiful book, one that sparkles with its many terrific stories and insights. Few writers possess the quiet élan of Anderson, a writer who is as good in book form as in his song lyrics, a rare gem among writers.

[Pekka · Rating 4 out of 5]

Honest and beautiful.

[Alex Sarll]

The sequel which, as per an early chapter title, Brett Anderson had sworn he wouldn't write, following Suede to fame and fortune, and as such into the territory of so many other band narratives, with success going to their head, the slog of trying to break America, fractures in what was once a tight-knit gang, feeling lost in the persona the press constructed around them...you know the drill. And so does Brett, who tries to offer insights from within the machine, and sometimes succeeds, but is often going over old ground all the same, too many quotes that don't quite apply and 'superflous inverted commas' lending the whole thing an air of What If Alan Partridge *Was* The Sex People? Coal Black Mornings had its moments of pomposity and straining for effect, its bathos that wasn't always intentional, but the tendency is definitely more pronounced here, which may be almost inevitable in writing about the big time as against the quiet beginnings – on top of which, I imagine that as against the long-percolating, privately written first volume, this probably came together in much more of a rush. Still, for every painful passage (the idea of Argentina as a victim of British imperialism elicited a particular wince from me), there's a gem like the already notorious page on dreadful late single Electricity. Which still isn't nearly harsh enough, of course, but does betray a degree of perspicacity the book doesn't always have. Fuck it, though – I was never going to be immune to the appeal of reading a first-hand account of that house on the hill in Highgate where the clouds of Dog Man Star gathered. Or, at the more lighthearted end, the ridiculous working titles for the songs, and the incident with the tap dancer. Still, for all that Brett says he didn't want to add one more entry to the long list of books about on-tour shenanigans, there's a part of me that would have loved to read something leaning a little more into the sleaze with which Suede's music always hummed. Of the two fucked-up situations which fed into their masterpiece, The Asphalt World, we get plenty on the breakdown of relations with Bernard, but little more than tantalising hints of the perversity of the romance with a chaotic artist. Although perhaps the truth could never have lived up to the inchoate visions the song conjures. As the story moves out of that, into the era of the initially sunnier relationship with Sam and the poppier songs on Coming Up, it becomes a much easier read (and, from the author's own account, write), though it's never entirely clear if he realises how much he's making Richard Oakes sound like a comedy dogsbody. But set against that, even a song as flimsy as Starcrazy occasions a lovely little musing on the permanence of art. Alas, just as the first book was always going to end with a crescendo, this one can't help but dribble out through those two terrible albums before the end and the My Drugs Hell that birthed them, and knowing Brett now regrets them too is not that much consolation. Still, I imagine a third volume with Evenings in the title is inevitable, covering the comeback - and despite mostly finding the new stuff overrated, they're quick enough reads that I'll probably get through it.

[Ross Maclean · Rating 4 out of 5]

A change of pace from the previous instalment and there’s much to admire in what Anderson attempts here as he tries to eschew the clichés of an autobiography charting the glory years of his rock band.

His prose is elegant and captivating even when you spot the odd pattern of repeated phrases and the same ground gets covered more than once. He knows how to powerfully convey the emotion of, and subsequent reflections on, defining events and the sections covering the more famous parts of the Suede legend are sensitively handled without ever risking salaciousness. There’s also a thoughtful exploration of image manipulation and the formation of a public persona, which underpins much of the decade covered here.

The creation of Suede’s first five albums are covered in decreasing volume and with a level of depth that’s fitting and commensurate to the work being described. He’s unflinchingly honest in his assessment of both his work and his relationships over the period of Suede’s rise and fall (—stopping far short of the re-rise).

This volume misses some of the touches which made Coal Black Mornings so memorable and, while not unsurprising, it narrows the focus far more to Anderson himself, rather than the influences and figures around him who shaped and moulded him. I’m certain that it’s an accurate reflection of that period in his life but his family, who were such key figures before, slip through the cracks here without mention and half of his bandmates are marginalised to the point of excision. There’s the odd occasion where it perversely declines to follow through on events which are set up as pivotal (e.g. the reappearance of Justine Frischmann, his relationship with Sam, or even shaking off narcotic addiction) and as a result swathes of the story are left dangling.

For the most part the pace is perfectly judged and I was moved by the level of detailed personal analysis employed but found the wrap up jarring and in need of some additional space to convey the weight of its ignominious endpoint.

[Chris Parkinson · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not as good as the first. Skirts over quite a lot and some of the writing is just too flowery and pretentious.

[Lauren · Rating 1 out of 5]

I'll prefix this review by saying that I loved Coal Black Morning's so it was disappointing to find that I really didn't like the second installment. This book follows Suede from the beginnings of their fame through to when the band broke up, roughly covering the period of 1992-2000.

In the first book Brett had a beautiful, engaging way with words, drawing you in and making you feel as though you were immersed in whatever scene he was describing, you could almost feel the atmosphere. The second book loses this, it's as though he has digested a thesaurus and is attempting to regurgitate it on paper (or desperately trying to increase the word count). There are so many unnecessarily long descriptive words thrown in to each sentence that it makes reading the book difficult and at times unpleasant. I felt that it created a barrier between the reader and the text and whereas in the first book Brett drew the reader in to his world with his beautiful writing, in the second book he uses his talent to keep the reader out. As a result the book lacks the emotional connection that the first book had. Perhaps this was Brett's aim, he said explicitly said in the first book and the beginning of this book that he had no desire to write a second book about his famous years but then added that he had changed his mind. He talks about some difficult times in his life such as the rise and fall of the band and his drug addiction and I can't help but wonder if he used the excessive flowery language to keep the reader out of things that he didn't really want to be talking about.

If you are wanting to read this book for an insight in to Suede as a band or some detail around Bernard's departure you will be disappointed, Brett gives a very media-trained perspective and never really gives his own feelings away, carefully skirting around giving any real answers. That said, I do think some of the big fans of Suede would enjoy this book because he does talk in length about individual songs and how they were developed, the inspiration behind songs and the making of the albums in depth. Too in depth for me if I'm honest because whilst it was interesting there was too much of it.

The sections on Brett's drug addiction and the world he occupied at that time were well written and had markings of his excellent writing from the first book. He was raw and honest in those sections and it was the only part of the book where I felt he gave any real insight in to his life, these sections elevated the book from being on the most part a list of song choices and descriptions.

This book wasn't for me, I think if you were a big fan of Suede then you may enjoy reading about the development of the songs but for a lesser fan like me it was too much and I never felt immersed in Brett's world as I did with the first book.

[S.J. Bradley · Rating 3 out of 5]

Bit underwhelmed by this book to be honest. Was hoping to hear more in-depth about Suede's experiences during the early 90s when they went stratospheric and were featuring heavily in the music press. But there's not much in-depth about their own experiences, or even very much about other bands. If you want something that gives more flavour about what it was like to be in a band in the Britpop era I think you'd be better off reading Different For Girls by Louise Wener or Skin's book. I don't agree with people saying he's a good writer - I didn't think this was particularly well written, with overlong sentences and whole paragraphs that reveal almost nothing at all about Anderson's experiences. For me this read like an extremely careful book where Anderson worked hard not to reveal very much about himself, or write anything that would offend anybody else (especially ex-members of Suede) If you want an in-depth read into how each Suede album was recorded and written, you might enjoy this - but honestly, speaking as someone who was a Suede fan and liked their music, I didn't find any of this enough to redeem it. There were so many good bands around at that time, it would have been great to hear more about them, and I'm sure Suede must have come into contact with a lot of them. It's a bit disappointing that most other bands are hardly mentioned - even when they are (he writes about Strangelove, Kingmaker, and Elastica) they're all mentioned extremely briefly. For me as a book which must have had a lot of rich source material, it all felt a bit thin.

However, one thing I did enjoy about this book was how many times Anderson manages to diss Damon Albarn without ever once mentioning him by name.

[Munsi Parker-Munroe · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reading musician autobiographies while listening to the music they've made is a fun, immersive way to deepen your appreciation of a band's catalogue.

Also, this is a fascinating take on the musician memoir, insomuch as it puts a lot more of its focus on the actual creative process, as opposed to anecdotes from the road/drug tales/names dropped, and I think that's to the book's credit. We know and like artists because of the art they've made, in general, and this is a fascinating look back at music that I've loved since high school. If you like Suede, put Dog man Star on a turntable and read this book. If you don't, you might want to read it anyway, it's an interesting look at the nature of creativity.

[Jessie Hogg · Rating 4 out of 5]

kinda made me fall in love with suede even more, they’re like a dysfunctional family

[Cody · Rating 4 out of 5]

Almost Jumping Over Richard, or, Starman, Dog: The Rap Hits of Brett Anderson

Brett clarifies in the first paragraph that he'd never intended to write the confessions of a gorgeous rock star, then proceeds to write the confessions of a gorgeous rock star. If the first book were Sci-Fi Lullabies in its 'alternative Best of Suede' by documenting the obverse of the hits (literally), then this is Coming Up. Sashaying those tiny hips and doing a Happy Mondays of crack and acid, he's too self-aware to ever linger in the maudlin long; he recognizes that his agonies are not exactly what most fan/readers find themselves pitted against. So young, so dumb. Also, a whole discography's worth of fun!

Docking a point for almost jumping over Richard to fawn over Neil, the world's most boring man. Oakes, befitting the name, has proven to be everything Bernard was not in terms of august sagacity. Of course, Butler was the inverse in all positive implications, as well. Adding back a star for stray bangs shimmering like petrol in the puddles huddled 'neath gaunt cheekbones (guarantee you that this ends up a Suede lyric at some point; it's just mathematical inevitability). Dividing by 98.6 due to my being an Earth sign and not getting mention, multiplying by the square, gray-and-showing roots of pi because I am, as well, gone gone to Valium. Can you get me some?

No, seriously.

[Jake Rowley · Rating 4 out of 5]

Between his first memoir and this one, Brett Anderson still hasn't learnt how to use a comma. It's slightly more disjointed and not as atmospheric as Coal Black Mornings (owing in large part to its uglier subject matter), but consequently it's not quite as "thesaurus.com" either, while it maintains a similar blend of frank expression and lyrical style.

It's a worthwhile read for any Suede fan, as it provides detailed backstories to almost every song from 1992 to 2002. I will be very busy on Genius over the next few days!

[KM · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mielenkiintoinen kertomus jatkaa siitä, mihin Coal Black Mornings jäi. Etenkin kertomukset Sueden kappaleiden kirjoittamisesta ja niiden syntytarinat olivat mielenkiintoisia, ja kirjan luettuani olin ja olen aina vaan enemmän suedepäissäni.

[Rick Burin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Reviewed for Record Collector here: https://recordcollectormag.com/review...

[J.T. Wilson · Rating 3 out of 5]

As the trees outside continued their move from autumnal browns and oranges to leafless, wintry skeletons, the black and gold cover of the second Brett Anderson memoir loomed invitingly among the Reduced to Clear section of the Coventry HMV. The book the author had promised never to write was now in print reneged upon like so many wrestling retirements and despite the fact that it seemed to suffer from a dearth of punctuation in its overlong sentences it seemed worth a punt for £3.

Something of a disappointment compared to ‘Cold Black Mornings’, perhaps because, unlike much of that memoir, I knew the cast and the story of this one. In ways it feels under-researched, Anderson guessing at people’s feelings and relying on his own shaky memory (and sometimes admitting he can’t remember the exact sequence of events) in, I suppose, an attempt to preserve the integrity of his version of events without it being clouded by that of others. A phone call to one of the other people involved, including Bernard Butler, would perhaps have strengthened Anderson’s recollections. There is also, as with its predecessor, so many Blur subtweets that it becomes a running joke, moans about Britpop or Justine’s relationship with Damon peppering the book despite Brett never lowering himself to saying *that name* aloud.

Having said all this, it’s an easy read which combines frank admissions of some of Suede’s shortcomings - we all knew his lyrics on ‘Head Music’ were cliché by-the-numbers dross and it’s honest of him to agree - with some interesting takes on the distance between art and artist, image, creativity vs addiction and other points.

[Jeff Howells · Rating 4 out of 5]

The opening chapter of ‘Afternoons with the Blinds Closed’ is entitled ‘The Book I Said I Wouldn’t Write’ - this was his solemn promise when he produced his first book - that he wouldn’t write about Suede: “the fame years”. However it was inevitable that he would - and I’m glad he did.
Brett Anderson is one of the growing band of rock stars who are as proficient as writers as they are as performers. He’s up there with Patti Smith & Viv Albertine in terms of rock memoirists.
Whilst not as compelling as his first book, this has a lot to interest anyone who was a fan of Suede or of the Brit Pop era.
He is honest about his relationships with his band mates, particularly Bernard Butler & Richard Oakes (recognising in hindsight that his attitude to both left a lot to be desired). Although neither Matt or Simon appear much.
He is also honest about his own descent into drug addiction, the romance of it quickly replaced by squalidness - and friends replaced by dealers & hangers on.
The book ends with the breakup of the band after the release of A New Morning. One thing I was disappointed to read was that Brett doesn’t hold the stand alone single - Stay Together - in high regard as its one of my favourites, otherwise he writes engagingly about the writing process of many songs.
There is surely a third book on the way - one which details the triumphant return of the band - starting with their gig at the Albert Hall - a concert I was privileged to attend - and still my favourite gig of all time. Come on Brett - complete the trilogy.

[Mariza Mentzou · Rating 4 out of 5]

I easily give this a solid 4.5 stars.
If you're expecting the usual rock band story, look elsewhere.

In his own words, Brett Anderson, Suede's leader and author of this book, introduces the book: "So here I sit writing the book I said I wouldn't write."

Indeed, he did not write the book he said he wouldn't write. And it's because of this, that this is such a uniquely told story and beautiful book to read, not only for the fans and anyone else who appreciates the band and loves their music. But a book that could be appreciated and enjoyed by a far wider audience.

I particularly enjoyed his retrospective deep dives into the whys and the what-ifs of the creative process that bring about the creation of a song, from the writing of a lyric to the production of an entire record. Another one of the strengths of this book, in my opinion, is his unquestionably well thought and mature critique on his own and the band's work, where unlike other 'famous rock stars' he is equally proud of their best work and unimpressed or disappointed of their worst.

Avoiding namedropping and the usual sex and drugs and rock n roll mythology, Brett delivers a stunningly written story about work and life in a band, his band.
I know I'm going to read this again and again.

[Laura-Michelle Horgan · Rating 2 out of 5]

It read like a real estate guide to London and/or a review of music producers. Such a letdown from his first book. I feel like he should try again. (John Lyndon did this and it worked.) He talked around in circles rather than telling us what was actually happening. We get it, you lived in drug squalor. How did that happen, why did it happen, how did you get out of it; are you out of it? I couldn’t even tell which drug was the problem (crack I guess?) Hopefully, the third will be better.

[Ross Cumming · Rating 4 out of 5]

‘Afternoons With The Blinds Drawn’ is the second of the autobiographical books by Suede’s lead singer and frontman Brett Anderson. In this volume he tells the story of the rise of the band from their initial signing to Nude records till their demise in 2003. However instead of a straightforward history of the band, Anderson produces a more personal account where he looks back and revisits important episodes in the band’s rise and ultimate fall and explains what happened and also, how with hindsight, some of those episodes could have had different outcomes had he and others not been so hard headed. Anderson delves into the main episodes in the bands history such as Bernard Butler’s departure from the band and how they managed to resurrect themselves from his leaving. He also charts his drift into addiction and is brutally honest in his assessment of himself during that period and doesn’t try to sugar coat it in any way. I also particularly enjoyed Anderson’s description of his songwriting methods with his different writing partners and especially surprising was that a lot of it was mainly done in isolation with the ‘musician’ supplying him with a tape of the music which he worked on to produce the lyrics etc. Anderson includes the usual band anecdotes but these are not merely there as filler but usually used to illustrate a point which he is trying to get across.
Anderson is extremely honest in his assessment of his ‘limited’ musical ability but he is a gifted and erudite writer and I thoroughly enjoyed this insightful memoir. The band reconvened in 2010 and it’ll be interesting to see if that gives rise to a third volume in the series.

[BA_Wonderer · Rating 5 out of 5]

In April 1992, I was a final-year undergraduate student, and for several years had also been a committed reader of the 'inkies' - the UK 'indie' weekly music press comprising Melody Maker (MM) and New Musical Express (NME). And so, I remember the occasion well: sitting in the university library one morning, reading MM and seeing *that* cover, the one picturing Suede with the bold words “The Best New Band in Britain”. These were the words of music-maestro Steve Sutherland, who had a powerful influence at the time, and who Brett Anderson writes about in the early chapters of 'Afternoons with the Blinds Drawn', the latter, longer and better volume of his autobiography. This is an outstanding book, featuring some evocative memories within its adjective-strewn pages. Anderson covers the frenzied rise of what really were one of the best bands in Britain, his writing addressing themes including the role of the media, the writing and production of five Suede albums, the exhaustion of touring, the relationship of Suede to the 'Britpop' phenomenon, and of course, the regrettable departure of Bernard Butler. The book also documents some of his more personal journeys, reflecting on his song-writing, relationships with partners and friends, and some darker experiences with unnamed substances. Anderson writes intelligently, his knowledge and experience shining through, but this autobiography also offers some deep insights into British music and popular culture of the time.

In several instances, I found myself ruminating on certain of his points. Anderson is a little harsh on some of his contemporaries (in one case referred to as "mockneys" - the band concerned are easy to guess) though with personal issues intersecting with professional differences, these comments are perhaps understandable. Second, in spite of his seeking to distance Suede from the Britpop era and whilst they were not born from it - they preceded it - there can be no doubt that Suede found themselves part of that mix. Indeed, I take on board the alternative view that Suede "oiled the Britpop machine". And third, Anderson heavily plays down the merits of the 'Stay Together' single. Yet this is a beautiful song and there is a reason why it features in most external assessments of his band's best work. Then again, as a mere music consumer, what do I know? Anderson was right in the thick of it, his writing about it is convincing, and his reflections are often moving. With this work, he demonstrates that he is not only a great song-writer, but an excellent writer as well. There is surely more to come.

[Mirko · Rating 4 out of 5]

The sub-title of this could be "Confessions of a Haunted 1990s Rock Star". Brett is very frank about his mistakes here. I would be quite worried for his psychological welfare if he did not also consistently thread the book with dry and absurd self-deprecating vignettes, right down to bad hair styles.

This book arguably needs some background knowledge about 1990s British indie rock and Suede in particular to be fully appreciated. Personally, I really enjoyed Anderson's notes on the creation of individual songs along with his self-critical assessments: I'll take this over bland, broadsheet interviews raking over Britpop cliches any day. Apart from the occasional hackneyed phrase I also like Brett's flowery but elegant writing style - those long sentences! Finally, his friendship with flatmate Alan Fisher has the air of a 1990s Withnail and I dynamic: this book would be great material for such a film or TV show.

[cobra bubbles · Rating 4 out of 5]

Suede's Brett Anderson delves into the rollercoaster journey of one of Britpop's standout bands, unveiling the intricacies of chart-topping triumphs, creative clashes, and personal struggles in his second memoir, Afternoons with the Blinds Drawn.

It’s refreshing how self-aware Brett is when acknowledging the predictable paint by number formula of autobiographies while recognising that their main purpose should be self-exploration by unpicking the past. Throughout his documented experience in the music industry, he explores conversations rarely broached such as the overpopulation of the upper class in the business and the relentless chase of the replication of success.

Unlike his previous memoir, Afternoons with the Blinds Drawn ends abruptly which doesn’t really offer a sense of finality. I also caught myself rolling my eyes at Brett’s pretentiousness a few times but his intelligence and idiosyncrasies overpower the sometimes dislikable narration as he is able to provide fresh perspectives that evoke enlightening discussion.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

[Marlene A. · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a treat to listen to; as it turns out, listening to Brett Anderson talk is almost as nice as hearing him sing. However, there is one thing he said I absolutely disagree with: “Still Life”, with its huge orchestral arrangement, is neither “over-the-top” nor “pretentious”. The song is great with just the five of them playing, but the orchestra version is out of this world. It’s bombastic and profound and majestic and utterly wonderful. It wasn’t a mistake - it was a triumph.

[Jim Dennison · Rating 4 out of 5]

A good measure of a book is how it keeps you turning the pages and this book doesn’t disappoint! Anderson is good at talking about his feelings which make it compelling and it’s interesting to compare who’s viewpoints (I think Dog Man Star is by far their best album but for Brett it holds negative and painful memories). The prose seems initially contrived in its poetic style and like his first book there are overused phrases (but less so) but once you get into the style it is quite compelling.

[Robert · Rating 4 out of 5]

Afternoons is the second part of Brett Anderson's memoirs and this one deals with Suede's rise to fame, the recording of their second album, Bernard Butler's departure, Suede mark 2, their second rise through their third album. Anderson's addiction and recording of albums four and five and Suede's split.

As with Coal Black Mornings, this volume is honest without descending into cliche. As always, Brett Anderson knows how to tell a good tale, Maybe it's not as emotionally charged as Coal Black... but it's definitely worth a read. However you do have to be familiar with Suede to know what he's talking about.