The London Suede
Sci-Fi Lullabies (Columbia)
by Nik Rainey
Pity (the) poor (London) Suede. Born into one of the regularly-scheduled Brit-unfriendly periods in popular song, when the flavor du jour smacked of macho self-hatred and inner-child beating, their moment of impact – fueled by lickerish lashings of gender-pref ambiguity, coy wit, and artful pop melodies handed down from Bowie and Morrissey – was, despite being carefully engineered and choreographed by their record company and the fickle trou-moistenings of the English press, heard by many but acknowledged by few. And since they made the most deadly of tactical errors for a British band (a) they stuck around, b) they refused to get into brawls or feuds with other bands, c) they fought all of their inter-band battles away from journalists’ tape-recorders), they’ve found themselves in the six years since their debut in cultophilic limbo with a curiously non-ostentatious public image and a really awkward name change for Yank consumption (what, did the fabric sue?). What few have seemed to notice, therefore, is that, in spite of blows that have turned other bands to dust (namely, the departure of their main guitarist/tunesmith, Bernard Butler), T.L. Suede have continued to get even better, neither gumming up the works with slavish Beatle-bumming or looking to the collected Matador catalogue for inspiration-grafts like other bands I could name. If the masterful glitter-pop of last year’s Coming Up wasn’t enough to prove it, just viddy Sci-Fi Lullabies: Two CDs, 27 crystalline pieces of pop grandiosity without a single duffer in the lot, and here’s the kicker: These are just the b-sides.