A compelling personal account of the dramas of a singular British band
Anderson writes with a combination of guarded introspection and detachment . . . he conjures a cracked and confused persona, fumbling his way through a bizarre early adulthood, by turns gleefully hedonistic and wantonly self-destructive, hardworking and profligate, egotistical and insecure, a character more likely to be seen shuffling around in a dressing-grown smoking fags and staring out the window than prancing on the stage . . . Afternoons With the Blinds Drawn is another milestone in a flourishing latterday career
True to his word, this is another music book that steers away from the expected... it has a brazen confidence and it's rarely dull. As such, Afternoons With the Blinds Down is a worthy successor to Coal Black Mornings. I look forward to the third installment, in which Anderson hits middle age, which will surely be called Evenings Under the Electric Blanket.
True to his word, this is another music book that steers away from the expected . . . it has a brazen confidence and it's rarely dull. As such, Afternoons With the Blinds Down is a worthy successor to Coal Black Mornings
Honest and lyrical . . . Anderson, in his lyrics, has always been fantastic at capturing the sleaze of underground city living and he does the same here . . . Anderson's writing is as he is in real life: sharp, unsparing and sensitive
You're unlikely to read another music autobiography quite as honestly reflective as this one
Thanks to his thoughtful analysis of those wild times, Afternoons with the Blinds Drawn lets in a lot of light
A refreshing corrective to the Britpop narrative . . . Reading it is a bit like being inside a Suede song itself. Which is maybe a mark of the strength of Anderson's vision . . . The pages reek of stale cigarette ash, rising damp and mouldy grouting . . . the book offers the singer's own nuanced take on pop and success