Brett Anderson

Brett Anderson came from a world impossibly distant from rock star success, and in Coal Black Mornings he traces the journey that took him from a childhood as 'a snotty, sniffy, slightly maudlin sort of boy raised on Salad Cream and milky tea and cheap meat' to becoming founder and lead singer of Suede. Anderson grew up in Hayward's Heath on the grubby fringes of the Home Counties. As a teenager he clashed with his eccentric taxi-driving father (who would parade around their council house dressed as Lawrence of Arabia, air-conducting his favourite composers) and adored his beautiful, artistic mother. He brilliantly evokes the seventies, the suffocating discomfort of a very English kind of poverty and the burning need for escape that it breeds. Anderson charts the shabby romance of creativity as he travelled the tube in search of inspiration, fuelled by Marmite and nicotine, and Suede's rise from rehearsals in bedrooms, squats and pubs. And he catalogues the intense relationships that make and break bands as well as the devastating loss of his mother. Coal Black Mornings is profoundly moving, funny and intense - a book which stands alongside the most emotionally truthful of personal stories.

Coal Black Mornings

Siya S

★★★★★ 5 she's-in-fashion stars

My friggin god. This guy is a genius. So classy, honest, and very poetic. No wonder he could write all those great songs (with the help of and even more genius, Bernard Butler, but you know what I mean), yeah no wonder because he's a natural in this craft. 




Suede is one of my most favorite bands growing up. It transported me to the time I went to Summersonic to see them in 2011. The Japanese guy who was standing next to me was crying as he sang along all the songs - he knew all the lyrics by heart. Brett was screaming on the top of his lungs and he swung the mic and let the cord wrapped around his body. Everyone was happy as fuck. That was still one of the best shows I've ever attended in my life. 

It makes me so happy reading this book. It was insightful, compelling, and even funny at times (like that one sentence about Morissey). He wrote this book for his son, and The coolest thing is how the book ends where it should be, so there won't be all those boring fame-and-glory, rock-n-roll-corrupt-me kind of story that most musicians seem to love writing about int heir memoirs. 

He talked about his childhood, so in a way, I guess this is a coming-of-age story that even someone who's not a Suede fan could still enjoy. Started in a bleak town in England with a troubled father and a compassionate mother, it was a quiet and lonely and stranger life than some. His story reminded me so much of my own even though we were born decades and 5000 miles apart. He never recovered from the loss of his mother, and the Coal Black Mornings referred to those days when he didn't know if things were ever going to be alright again when the sun came up. 

A huge part of this book was dedicated to his relationships with people whom he cared about. The way he talked about his friends made me miss my friends so much. I could tell how much they mean a lot to him. Also, of course, he talked about his relationships with Justine Frichmann (whom everyone seemed to be obsessed with back in the days) and Bernard Butler. Both went to shit at the end (although it has transformed into something else over the years). What moved me was the way he wrote about them - it was kind, with a nostalgic nuance of the good old days. 

I recommend reading this with Suede's songs playing in the background.

Coal Black Mornings

Reviews