Yes, we've reached Brett Anderson's solo album, Wilderness. I told you I was a completist: I also have Bernard Butler's solo stuff, the album Anderson and Butler did together (The Tears), and all the other side projects by Suede, but they'll have to wait because I'm being alphabetical.
So. Wilderness. An ex-star's return to the fray. I think we all know what to expect: Suede histrionics tempered by regret/experience/age. At least, that's what I wanted. Suede made it just as I was about to step onto the dance floor. My metal period was fading, and I'd get to the horrible nightclub that tolerated Stoke's indie/metal/punk subculture as soon as it opened, because you only got 3 indie tracks before NIN/Metallica/Faith No More reigned once more. Not that I didn't like these bands too, but there was just something thrilling about the rush of guitars and the (terrible) soaring lyrics that the metal stuff didn't do. I'd dance on my own, accept the scorn from the bikers and the habitués of Stoner's Corner, before rejoining my own tribe.
What I wanted from Wilderness was ambition and experience. What I got was… something much more personal, more introspective. Melancholy, but not wallowing in it. It's lovely, actually, though his voice (or accent) still grates slightly and it's a little self-aggrandising (which is what made and lost him a lot of friends in the first place).
It'll never win him any more fans, but I like it. More than I thought I did, on reflection. Perhaps because I'm getting old and bitter too. Damn, I think I've talked myself into buying his latest one, Slow Attack. Here's one from that album: the opening chords sound like Inspiral Carpets 'Two Worlds Collide' but that's soon forgotten.
Though what I'm really listening to today is Bikini Kill, especially 'Rebel Girl' (which starts off with a Stone Roses drum roll):