A post-punk edge to follow on from a somewhat autobiographical feeling to Autofiction is a brilliant move from Suede. Few bands can say their reunion is as strong, if not stronger, than the initial run. Suede can. A career-best album behind them and a step into those murkier waters with Antidepressants, is the bold move expected from a band looking to break into an audience, not one with the capacity to sell out their shows. The safety is off for Suede, and that is the tone most suited to them. This is not a victory lap. It never has been. Antidepressants carries on with the quality Bloodsports offered from the band over a decade ago, more than ten years since they got back together and deemed it only right that they continue as an active, creative unit. Frontman Brett Anderson may note the fears of death and ageing on Antidepressants, but it’s a terror he and the band adapt with, a message all listeners, no matter their generation, can learn from.
Incredibly strong singles are the way into Antidepressants. Opening song Disintegrate has that punchy, post-punk thrill paired with classic Suede suggestiveness. Anderson’s continued growth as a songwriter, the band’s ongoing instrumental flourishes, all come together perfectly here. It’s a beautiful companion piece to Autofiction, though, like any great record, relies more on the volatility and spontaneity than on previous projects. That simulated life on Dancing with the Europeans is the smartest way any artist has dealt with the connectivity of online interactions compared to the intimacy of real life. It beats Roger Daltrey telling a crowd that, once phone lines shut down, the connection is severed forever. Suede are one of the few acts touring now trying to kindle a connection beyond entertainment. They succeed with the opening pair of Antidepressants singles, calling on listeners to engage more deeply. The title track is nothing short of monumental, a successful adaptation to modern-day post-punk expectations with that thrilling, darker edge.
Richard Oakes is crucial here, roaring away as an extra, feverish addition to the luxury design criticisms Anderson throws out. Sweet Kid captures that lighter touch needed on an album where heavy wordplay is the main draw. A wonderful tribute, but still a tinge of the macabre to it. Everything in balance, all of it ordered well. A short, punchy, post-punk song. Suede can do the simple standards right, and that proves very important when they bridge off into darker territory, into wonderfully placed musings on life. A song like Sound and the Summer is a hopeful yet dead-end track, a bold piece which calls out the claustrophobia of the always online times. Add some excellent instrumental work in there, and you have a song which, like much of Antidepressants, asks listeners to find what keeps their fire alive. Suspicions of some songs being on the nose, like Broken Music for Broken People, are scrubbed away well. Tongue-in-cheek writing is the crucial clue here.
Anderson is not asking for listeners to literally save the world. He does note, however, that the world needs saving. Suede has another captivating collection of songs on their hands. Lived-in musings on death, life, and the bits in-between. If Autofiction was a reflection on life, Antidepressants is hearing out how the rest of it will be lived. Those latter stages of the album, particularly June Rain and Life is Endless, Life is a Moment, are the expectedly softer contemplations. But they, like Beyond the Sea and The Chemistry Between Us offered, are gentle and affirming recollections. Suede proves once more that their return to the stage and studio is stronger than their initial run, because what they learned when apart has strengthened their works together.
