Suede’sAntidepressants– A Dark and Dazzling Late-Career Triumph
When it comes to bands who have managed to reinvent themselves later in life, Suede is proving to be one of the rare gems. Their new record, Antidepressants , marks their 10th studio album, and it shows a group that is not simply leaning on nostalgia but instead pushing forward with fresh ideas and fearless energy. For frontman Brett Anderson, now 57, the mission has been clear: he doesn’t want Suede to become a heritage act playing the old hits for old fans. This album makes that point with conviction.
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If their last record, Autofiction in 2022, was described as their punk album, Antidepressants is its darker, more introspective sibling, drawing inspiration from post-punk icons like Magazine, Joy Division, and Siouxsie and the Banshees. The sound is jagged and atmospheric, full of eerie textures and restless guitar riffs from Richard Oakes. Longtime producer Ed Buller is back at the controls, and he makes sure the record never feels safe. Instead, the band leans into distortion, ambience, and unsettling sonic details that amplify Anderson’s lyrics about anxiety, paranoia, and the struggle to connect in an increasingly fragmented world.
From the very start, Suede set the tone with “Disintegrate,” a bold opener that asks listeners to embrace decay and mortality. It’s a track that feels both haunting and strangely liberating. Across the album, Anderson writes from a distinctly midlife perspective, reflecting on fleeting beauty, toxic relationships, mental breakdowns, and society’s reliance on medication. The title track itself carries a clever dual meaning—it’s immediate and catchy but laced with the idea of emotional flattening, much like the very drugs it references.
Perhaps the most haunting moment comes with “June Rain,” a song Anderson describes as a vignette of a damaged soul. The imagery is stark and cinematic: he sings of closing his eyes and stepping into traffic, leaving listeners unsure whether the narrator is suicidal or already a ghost. It’s moments like this where the album finds its sharpest emotional edge.
Visually and conceptually, the band also leans into art’s darker corners. The album cover shows Anderson posed like Francis Bacon in one of John Deakin’s famous photographs, shirtless and flanked by slabs of meat like grotesque wings. It’s a provocative image that mirrors the record’s themes of “exhilarated despair” and distorted humanity.
What stands out most is that this doesn’t feel like a throwback. Suede are not revisiting their 90s glory days, nor are they merely polishing familiar sounds. Instead, they’ve carved out a new late-era identity—dramatic, intense, and deeply relevant. Great 10th albums are a rarity in rock history, but with Antidepressants , Suede has pulled it off. It’s a record that confirms their creative resurgence and reminds us why they remain one of Britain’s most vital bands, not just once, but twice in their career.
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