LLL: Suede at the 02 Arena

Linda live in London - Suede (2010)
by Linda Wijlaars

Oh, the suspense of going to a Suede gig! And the horror when you finally take a look at your ticket that’s been lying around gathering dust for months and realise that you’ve actually booked a seat instead of a ticket in the standing area. Sitting down at the Suede gig you’ve been quite literally waiting for years for, ever since they broke up ages ago (7 years, 1 month and 3 days to be precise, but who’s counting anyway?). Could it get any worse? Well, there is the venue it’s being held at: the O2 area (or Millennium Dome for anyone who believes that a venue named after a phone company should at the very least provide you with a proper signal). Maybe it’s me, but I feel there is something inherently wrong when a band that appealed to, and sang about weirdoes, creeps and other generally awkward people sells out London’s biggest music venue. But perhaps it’s just in my mind that the whole raison d’être of a band like Suede is affected when people’s main reason to buy a ticket is “a nice evening out”.

Not that above rant disqualifies Suede as a band in any way. After Brett Anderson’s solo career (or a lack thereof), it seems very reasonable that they cash in now. How many bands have preceded them by now? It’s only a few months ago that Pavement took control of Brixton Academy for almost a week and managed to sell out every single night, so why can’t Suede tag along for the ride?

But enough on the why’s and how’s, it’s the music that matters, and one of the (very, very few) benefits of having a seat is that it is pre-assigned, allowing one to miss support acts such as Dial M for Murder, whose name is as off putting as David Cameron’s sudden love for the Smiths – and have you read Morrissey’s subsequent rant? “David Peckham”, excuse me while I giggle as a 5-year old. New Young Pony Club’s faith is rather similar, although ‘The Get Go’ remains one of their more brilliant efforts.

Whilst waiting for the main act, the arena fills, ads for Peter Andre and Barry Manilow gigs flash over the screens and the man next to me enthusiastically recounts his last gig experience: a 1999 concert by Suede. He still owns the shirt he bought at that particular gig, but his lifestyle since has condemned it to be used merely as a flag. When the lights finally go down, and a dark opening tune starts to play while people around me scurry to their seats (this takes longer than you’d normally expect, considering the age range of the audience) time seems to turn back and the last ten years seem not to have happened at all. Even from the distance I’m at, Brett Anderson can be made out unmistakably, and another benefit from sitting halfway up the stairs becomes obvious: from this distance it is impossible to make out whether the band have aged as much as their audience.

Music wise, they certainly haven’t. From opener “This Hollywood Life” to the very end everything is performed absolutely flawless (kudos to the tech guy who had to readjust Brett Anderson’s microphone thingy about every five minutes or so). And because it’s Suede, every other song or so makes your hart jumps as they’re playing one of your favourites: ‘Trash’, ‘Filmstar’, ‘Animal Nitrate’ or ‘Everything Will Flow’. Brett Anderson still has the moves and the voice and every high note is reached, while the giant screens mainly show the drummer as he is the most immobile person in the set. When the cameraman finally zooms in on Brett Anderson (and who else would you want to look at?), a choice has to be made: watch the gig on the screen or live as the set up of the venue doesn’t really allow you to do both. While it is great to be able to actually see Brett’s face, it does feel a bit like you’re just watching it happen instead of actually being part of it. But hey, there is a probably a reason why they were already advertising the recordings of this gig before it actually happened.

As you might expect, everyone is on their feet within minutes and dancing like a bunch of overexcited teenagers whose parents have allowed them to go to a gig unchaperoned for the first time ever. ‘Pantomime Horse’ offers a short moment of deliberation and time to reconsider of the more edgy dance moves before the set is off again and the singing along wins it from the dancing - the question remains whether that was an actual improvement. Naturally, there is an encore, which Brett starts with an acoustic rendition of ‘The Living Dead’ – rather appropriate for the occasion in an ever so slightly sarcastic way if I may say so. The Wednesday night ends on ‘Saturday Night’ and the reassurance that this wasn’t their last gig. Which is all I really needed to hear. Next time I’ll be more careful whilst ordering tickets.