Beginning with the deep resonant bowing of a dusty cello and viola, the cinematic sweep of Suede's seventh album Night Thoughts is apparent from the opening bars. 'When You Are Young's pairing of guitars with epic strings and rat-a-tat-tat militaristic drumming, alongside Brett Anderson's distinctive high octave vocal, gets me thinking of a couple of unusual reference points I wouldn't normally associate with Britpop's kings of trash and glamour. Yes: I'm thinking of those 70s prog-rockers with their string-heavy Time And A Word album and also fellow 90s stalwarts Mansun, when they went bonkers prog on their second album Six. These thoughts are not entirely unfounded, I wouldn't go so far as to back the Telegraph's hyperbolic suggestion that Suede have reinvented the album, but they've certainly gone some way towards reinventing Suede. Of course they haven't gone off on any wild jazzy interludes or five minute guitar solos but, whilst staying true to their blueprint, they've managed to expand the universe of what a Suede album can be. This is a concept album, of sorts, designed to be performed alongside a specially commissioned feature length film by Roger Sergeant. I've not seen the bleak visuals that tell the tale of a drowning man as he looks back over his life and the mistakes that led to his suicide so I will have to judge the album on its own merits. It helps that, although the themes and emotional judder are complimentary, the album and film are not exactly mutually exclusive. There isn't an obvious narrative arc to the songs but there are devices that help to hold things together, like the brief reprise of 'When You Are Young' remodelled as 'When You Were Young' as the albums penultimate piece. The soaring strings return with added flourish before stripping back to stark piano and a dramatic vocal for a final, darker verse.

Earlier on 'Outsiders' fits more obviously into the Suede canon, becoming an obvious promotional single. It has a soaring sing-a-long chorus, verses full of tension, edge and big layers of effects-laden jangly guitars. While it feels typical of the band it's also a touch more sophisticated, those strings (and they actually sound like Neil Codling's synth strings on this one) sound expensive, adding an extra loftiness to the chorus. In fact I would go so far as to say that long term collaborator Ed Buller's production on this album is some of his finest work, which goes a long way to helping the band realise their grand ambitions. Without pause the album hurtles head-first into 'No Tomorrow', which starts off sounding like The Who to my ears, before hitting a more typical verse. Brett Anderson's accent has always led to (often lazy) Bowie comparison's, but it's hard not to hear hints of 'Ashes To Ashes' here. The song begins to fade and the synthetic ambience of 'Pale Snow' rises to take it's place. This one strips things right down to vocal, guitar and ambience with an unusual arrangement and chord sequence that takes you on a twisting journey, pondering the tragedy of failed romances. At first I find Anderson's vocal a little over-blown for such an icy solemn piece, but it's a dark-night-of-the-soul, howling-at-the-moon moment, and the coda that follows shows off some truly tender delivery, as Brett sings, “And they always get away/ it never works out for me/ it never happens to me”.

'I Don't Know How To Reach You' brings back the drums, powerful and rock-steady, it has a soaring chorus and a wall of sound that barely lets up. Even when the rhythm track drops away the tension remains, powerful emotions turned up to 11 and frequencies filled by wide-angle synths. Six minutes of full-on desperation is actually a little exhausting, but there's a ray of hope towards the end as 'Pale Snow's “it never happens to me” is reprised, rejuvenated as a choral “I never thought it could happen to me”. 'What I'm Trying To Tell You' follows with a great plodding groove, although it does feel a little crowded at times. Perhaps there are one too many guitar parts in the verse, the chorus lifts, but it's not their strongest song and it is rescued somewhat by a 'la-la' laden outro that resembles the melody from classic Suede single 'Beautiful Ones'. 'Tightrope' starts off with an icy wind, it's a builder of a track, full of overblown emotion, the narrator and his lover working through the balancing-act trials of life. “Walking a tightrope with you/made my mistake when I slipped through the noose”, as the metaphorical tightrope becomes a tight rope around the neck when it all gets too much.

'Learning To Be' starts off with certain notes that wouldn't sound out of place on the soundtrack to Stephen Moffat's BBC Sherlock Holmes series'. It's an interlude track in a similar way to 'Pale Snow' hanging in the air, ponderous and unresolved. It is followed appropriately by 'Like Kids', one of the most up-beat moments on the album and another moment of classic Suede, propelled along by an appropriately youthful beat and razor sharp guitar hooks. The song ends abruptly with a choir of school kids singing the guitar hook absurdly, like it's a playground tease: 'ner-ner ne ner-ner' blowing a defiant raspberry. 'I can't Give Her What She Wants' sinks us back into the all pervading mire that characterises this collection of songs, hanging in the background even during the most triumphant moments. This track has a lot of space, which makes it stand out, as the album overall could benefit in places from slightly sparser arrangement. I'm sure I'm not the first person to notice a similarity to the folkier parts of 'Stairway To Heaven' in this track, it's another example of Suede flirting at the edges of 70s progressive rock, without surrendering to it or sounding cliche. Richard Oakes' guitar solo here is a real treat, understated and set against a near empty backdrop, it's an old fashioned device but it works and the guitar tone they found is glorious.

'The Fur And The Feathers' is a truly epic close to an album that is already grandiose and cinematic. It's got that same creepy dark tension that Suede often favour and for the most part works as a piano ballad, coupled with high pitch-shifted guitar licks. The cymbal crashes of the chorus sound positively orchestral, there's even a hint of Bond to the turn around at the end of the chorus. You're waiting and waiting for the beat to come in and when it finally hits there's more of a major, positive feel than you might expect, showing that, despite the implied tragedy throughout the album there is a certain joy to 'the thrill of the chase'. Anderson's pensive, maudlin character is satisfied by at least having lived a life and tried, no matter how it ended up. It's a strange sort of happiness to end such an intense album, that is so often bleak, but a strangely fitting one for Suede. They were the band of youth in their heyday and now they are middle aged. They were associated so closely with all that trashy, drug-addled glamour and danger in the 90s but now they are dignified, classy and parents to boot! They were the band who blew it all, lost their muse and faded from view, but now they are a band that has triumphed with a career high, an ambitious artistic expression and potentially their most cohesive work to date. If you were put off in the past by Brett's 'marmite' vocal, or the intense emotions and dense arrangements of their previous work, you're not likely to find sudden and unexpected love for Night Thoughts, but if you've ever been fond of The London Suede this certainly finds them at their very best.
Adam Kidd

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