So far, David Barnett's "Suede" ((Which is actually the revised and updated edition of "Suede: Love and Poison: The Authorised Biography", a book which is out of print and extremely expensive to get hold of in second-hand circles.)) is a fun and funny read so far, and I'm a tenth into it. I really dig how Barnett lends big helpings of himself into the text. Simply written.

This bit where Barnett quotes a fellow Suede devotee is touching. It reminds me of when I used to try to have a fanzine with a friend; it didn't really work, but we got ourselves shitloads of free CDs in the process:

“Mailing list? Good god, that was exciting – getting things through the post to do with your beloved bands,” romances lifelong fan and top music journalist Nadine McBay. “Re-reading this wonderful book, I was struck, and not a little depressed, by how radically things had changed in 20 years. Firstly that Suede – and Brett Anderson in particular – was a true star and we don’t have many of those any more, partly because with the regular ego-fondling provided via Facebook, Instagram et al, we’re all stars now. Secondly that Suede were one of the last bands so seemingly vital and all-encompassing, that you could base your life around them, from the clothes you wore to the books you read. Nowadays, apart from the odd stalwart goth kid, you’d struggle to discern what sort of music someone is into by just looking at them. Thirdly, that Suede was part of the physical music industry; of tangible, tactile things such as the inky music papers and of actual records. To the devotee, articles and pictures in the former were carefully snipped out and kept, while the latter, with their initially consistent art direction, weightier vinyl and the odd epigram scratched into the land (witness the “To the immoral immortal” dedication on “Animal Nitrate”) were taken home from the actual record shop to be lovingly fondled and admired with an intoxication bordering on the dangerous. That wasn’t just me, right?” No, it was not. The absence of cryptic etchings on Suede’s later vinyl releases may seem trivial, but to the devoted fan who shells out for these things, it can be perceived as the lack of attention to detail that made them so alluring in the first place.