Thursday, 20 April 2017

Beauty: A Blessing or a Curse? Honore De Balzac's 'Lost Illusions' & 'Splendours & Miseries of Courtesans'


Edouard Manet, Nana (1877)

"Human connection reduced to little more than data."
- From Renton's "Choose Life" speech in T2 Trainspotting (2017)

1
Introduction

I have recently decided to withdraw as much as is practically possible from social media & in the first few months, I have been able, in the time that I have saved & when I have felt well enough, to return with love & fervour to one of my favourite ways of spending my precious spare time in-between the endless barrage of treatments that I have to do, & that is, of course, reading great works of literature.


One of my favourite books & one that is unquestionably a great work of literature is Honore De Balzac's 1837-42 novel Lost Illusions
It is a towering cathedral of a book, & to accurately describe its scope & intensity in the space of one blog post is impossible, yet I would like, if I may, & at your kind generosity, oh gentle reader, to attempt to at least set down for posterity just why I find it so magical. And that is not all! Let it never be said that I don't aim high or that I shy away from over-reaching! For it is not only the 704 pages of Lost Illusions that I want to discuss, but also, its 554 page sequel, Splendours & Miseries of Courtesans
For within the pages of these two mighty tomes can be found the maddening yet hugely loveable principal character, Lucien de Rubempre. And not only him, but many more who also jump out of its pages. The two novels have a quite stunning array of characters who become lodged inside your mind as you read & who proceed to stay for as long as they want, not for how long you want. The subjects covered are enormous, but it is the psychological, philosophical, sociological & artistic themes that interest me the most & Balzac is an acknowledged master at these subjects. So without further ado, I will attempt to give a very brief summation of what the two novels are principally about & some of the key ideas they explore.

One of Balzac's key themes is the notion that rampant capitalism brutalises & reduces the genuine values of pretty much everything in human life. Lucien is a fine poet, whose exquisite verse is reduced to bartering by publishers & completely ignored by a philistine, insensitive public. Irreducibly blind to the fine & sublime sentiments that Lucien's writing portrays - when he reads his poems out at a gathering that has been arranged by his rich mistress, the people present prefer to smoke, play cards or gossip to each other (now I guess they would look at their phones) - he cuts a lonely figure, a peacock in an environment full of sharks & house bricks. And it is not only poetry & literature that gets trampled in this way but almost all of humanity's finest impulses. Compassion is reduced to a grotesque type of sentimental charity, given not to help the less fortunate but to soothe & massage the egos & consciences of the privileged givers. Love is debased, bought & sold as though it were a pair of fine (or not so fine) shoes. And on it goes, through all of society. Genuine talents & gifts are made commonplace & trampled through the dirt. Only a tiny minority of characters stand by their principles & don't sell out. Friendships are sacrificed on the alter of self interest & any solidarity between people is buried beneath an avalanche of ego, deception & self interest. The illusions Lucien & the reader loses on the way are many, but they are a stunningly accurate assessment of how our moneyed, capitalist way of life leaves very little room whatsoever for the finest talents, instincts or philosophies to find their true potential. And in a world where everything is brought to the lowest common denominator, & where nothing is sacred & all can be bought & sold, the question has to be asked: is there anything left, by this reckoning, that can have any genuine value at all?


II
 Lucien de Rubempre

"One of the greatest tragedies of my life is the death of Lucien de Rubempre. It is a grief from which I have never been able to completely rid myself. It haunts me in my moments of pleasure. I remember it when I laugh."
- Oscar Wilde,
The Decay of Lying (p.149)

Lucien de Rubempre is an infuriating, but ultimately deeply lovable character. His flaws are often off the radar. He suffers from vanity, self-importance, is wilful, highly strung, acts without thinking, can be selfish, prone to bouts of extreme productivity or hopeless idleness, is ambitious to the point of madness & is continually caught out by scheming rivals & rejected lovers, & all this eventually leads to disaster. And yet, despite this, he is supremely likeable, & very human in his foibles & contradictions, & it is impossible not to fall for this handsome, naive, infuriating & charming poet, even as he leaves a trail of wreckage & disaster in his wake. At the beginning of Lost Illusions we are introduced to Lucien when he is 21, living in poverty in provincial France & wondering how he can get to Paris in order to become a successful, published poet. He is also described by Balzac as having exceptional beauty, & it is this beauty which helps him in some ways on his rise through society, firstly in his provincial home town of Anguoleme, & then in Paris. But it also brings him more than a few troubles, from jealous men who envy his extraordinary looks to the many infatuated women whom he either loves or rejects. Balzac's psychological explorations of the effects of Lucien's beauty are incredibly interesting & go far beyond Lucien himself. Beauty is one of the prime forces in human life & in nature, & Balzac discusses the pros & cons of this subject in great detail. If nothing else, Lucien's beauty charms or infuriates everyone he meets & the response that he invites gives Balzac plenty of scope to describe how different personalities respond to a person who has divine good looks. From the women who lose their heads over him, whether that be giving up their fortunes, reputations & families by indulging in an extra-marital affair, or another who collapses & is on the verge of death when she learns that he has been arrested, Lucien certainly inspires extreme reactions. And then there are the men, mostly envious, who pretend to befriend him whilst ceaselessly plotting his downfall behind his well proportioned back, or those who are so beguiled that they gladly put his needs before their own, particularly in the case of his best friend, the inventor David Sechard, who concludes that, "The patient ox should draw the plough, the bird should be carefree. I will be the ox, Lucien shall be the eagle." (p.28) David loves Lucien to the point of idolatry, as does his sister Eve, who David marries. They make great sacrifices to help Lucien fund his life in Paris, & he repays them by forging David's signature to pay off his debts which leads to David getting arrested. But, & it is impossible to explain why in enough detail here, Lucien does this with a sense of naivety rather than malice, in the vain hope of resisting the pack of wolves that have gathered around him, but his miscalculation only leads to many more problems. Still a child in many respects, our poet, like a male bee if it were instructed to collect pollen, doesn't have the necessary tools to protect himself from the maelstrom of harshness & vindictiveness of people & society, & it is this, more than anything, which leads to some of the more fateful mistakes that he makes. Like many of us, I expect, he is a little bit human, all too human.


III
 Beauty: Blessing or Curse?

The subject of beauty & the vast array of responses & the consequences of having it or desiring it are explored in great detail in both Lost Illusions & Splendours & Miseries of Courtesans. Lucien's beauty is, at the final reckoning, all he actually has. Having lost all his money at the end of Lost Illusions, having been betrayed by his friends in Paris, his lover Coralie dead, his writing career over hardly before it had begun, & having himself betrayed his beloved sister Eve & her husband, his best friend David, he decides that the only option left remaining to him is to throw himself into the river & end it all. Trudging as wearily as death down a dusty road, Lucien meets another of Balzac's great creations, the criminal master-mind Vautrin. Lucien, at an all time low & deciding he has nothing to hide as he is about to end his life, tells Vautrin (disguised as a Spanish priest) everything that he has done. The scandals, the betrayals, the hypocrisies, the sensual delights he has tasted, nothing is withheld. Vautrin, who is one of the principal characters in the sequel to Lost Illusions, Splendours & Miseries of Courtesans, listens to Lucien before putting his prodigious intelligence & psychological knowledge to work. Having fallen for Lucien, he expounds on a conversion that would not have been out of place had it come from the messenger of hell itself, the master persuader Mephistopheles. By the end of the next few chapters which close the novel, Lucien has changed his mind about killing himself & is taken under the wing of this prince of disguises from the Parisian underworld, having been allured by the promise that Vautrin can give him all that his heart so secretly desires: fame, fortune, beautiful women, & most importantly for Lucien, absolute revenge on those that have betrayed & humiliated him. But this comes with the non-negotiable condition that Lucien does exactly what Vautrin tells him to. Lucien decides to accept this invitation & refrains from doing himself in. Such is the power that beauty & the attraction that it fosters can have in life. For if Lucien hadn't possessed it & had he been dragging his feet at the side of the road in a pair of the kind of ignoble, modern day tracksuit trousers like so many people wear today, Vautrin would probably not have given Lucien a second glance, & instead of there being a wonderful sequel to Lost Illusions called Splendours & Miseries of Courtesans, Lucien would have ended up feeding the fishes in the bottom of the river & that would have been the end of that. And, of course, no self respecting dandy could ever be content with such a vulgar ending!

And it is not only Lucien's looks that cause mayhem in the two novels. Balzac himself, apparently a rather stout man who drank copious amounts of coffee & who would probably not be described as dashingly Byron-esque in appearance, 
Balzac by Louis-Auguste Bisson (1842)

was obviously thoroughly fascinated by the effects & part to play that beauty has on human & non human interactions alike. Which is not surprising for a mind that was as sharp as a bright sun when it is glanced at unexpectedly through a mirror whilst shaving in a small, slightly scented garden in early spring. Balzac was deeply interested in every facet of life, & particularly the study of physiognomy, which is the assessment of a character from their outward appearance. He also observed society & human behaviour (& indeed all life; his stories & novels are sprinkled with allusions & comparisons from the animal kingdom & nature) like a scientist studying particles under a microscope. Balzac very rarely moralises in his works, he just presents his stories to the reader & then leaves any judgement up to them, if they feel the urge to do so. As someone who has read many of Balzac's works, particularly the fascinating collection of stories & novels that he called his 'Philosophical Studies', I would suggest that the subject of beauty was obviously of great importance to him. Lucien, as I have described, is treated very differently from other characters who don't have such strikingly good looks. His sister Eve dotes on him - even to the extent of picking out his outfit for him for his first aforementioned poetry reading - so by ensuring that he will look his dazzling best: "If your rich mistress has any intelligence, she must certainly love you! In this case, however, she's going to be very vexed this evening, for all the women will be trying to flirt with you!" His best friend David, as mentioned, marries Eve & is more than happy to put Lucien's needs before his own, with Balzac explaining that, "his friend's beauty implied an ascendancy which David acknowledged, believing himself to be uncouth & commonplace." (p.28) Lucien's extraordinary good looks (& poet's charm!) also bother, bewitch & bewilder a whole raft of society women, firstly in the provincial town he lives in, Anguoleme, & then in Paris. In Splendours & Miseries of Courtesans, the heroine Esther is a down & out, but famously beautiful, prostitute. She becomes completely smitten with Lucien & he soon falls in love with her also. Vautrin, however, observing this, senses the danger that Lucien's rise in society could be under if he is known to have a prostitute for a mistress & forces her to go to a nunnery to completely change her way of life, & constructs a completely different identity for her when she is "cured." Esther, because of her abject poverty, & because Lucien also owes him his life, is completely controlled by Vautrin, yet her love for Lucien shines like a beacon in this terrible battle of wills, where she is used as a mere pawn in the game Vautrin is playing in order to become more rich & powerful & keep his hold on Lucien. But it is her beauty that is to be the bait for Vautrin & Lucien's audacious plan to secure them & her the fantastic wealth that they seek. When the richest banker in Paris, the Baron Nucingen, first sets eyes on Esther, he is left absolutely spellbound. Balzac describes how this thrifty old shark, satiated to the point of complete boredom by all of Paris's treasures & proud to consider himself "finished with women", is suddenly reawakened by the change wrung upon him by Esther's extraordinary beauty. Contemplating whether or not the Mona Lisa or Raphael's Fornarina were as beautiful as Esther, Balzac goes on to say that, "What most stupefied the Baron was the noble air of a great lady which Esther, being loved, & being surrounded by love, had in the highest degree." (p.83) The Baron, of course, practically loses his head over her. And Vautrin & Lucien are quick to put this to their advantage. In a scheming game of cat & mouse, in which Esther reluctantly takes part, the Baron relinquishes, bit by bit, ever more money to pay for his new mistress, until he has been fleeced to the tune of millions & has practically lost his ability to think rationally, such is his desire to take possession of Esther. Esther, of course, is completely trapped by these dreadful circumstances, but her love for Lucien never diminishes, & she puts her own devastated feelings & emotions to one side for the good of Lucien. As can probably be imagined, none of this ends well, & if any one is interested in finding out what happens I can only suggest reading the book itself as it is far too intricate & complicated to do justice to in any small measure in this limited space. But what is relevant to the subject of beauty, is how it transforms the behaviour of people who see it & perhaps, want to possess it. The way different human beings respond to the beauty of people, nature, art, etc, is one of the principal themes that Balzac is truly fascinated by, & like him, I find it an intriguing subject. It can be one of life's most sublime, & heart stirring experiences, yet it can also be destructive, as observed with the Baron, & can be used by others to elicit some type of gain. In Lost Illusions & Splendours & Miseries of Courtesans, Balzac sums these responses in the following ways.


IV 
Responses to Beauty

Esther's Response to Lucien:
Esther is completely transfixed & besotted by Lucien's looks, & is transformed by the love she feels for him, writing to him that,"If you only knew under what waves of love I drown in your eyes as I gaze at them, intoxicated." (p.369) The wealthy Baron, himself desperate to be loved by Esther is informed by her, "So, you want my heart! Well, now, I'm going to teach you how to win it...Be dashing, be handsome, be like Lucien de Rubumpre, who is over there talking to your wife, & then, you would be able to have, without any charge, what you will never be able to buy with all your millions." (p.242) And of course, being like Lucien is something the Baron could never be. Esther loves Lucien for his wonderful looks, his manners & his grace. Her response to his beauty is probably the purest & most genuine in the novel. She doesn't use Lucien's looks for her own gain & is content to experience the beauty of her lover in a totally authentic way. Balzac gives Esther a magnificent personality as well as divine looks. Blessed with sharp intelligence & splendid wit, she is compared to the Greek goddess of mischief, Aite, & although she is trapped by her poverty & by Vautrin, she manages to find a way of living her life as a trapped bird that aligns completely with her sacred love for Lucien.


The Baron's Response to Esther:
Esther's beauty, as I have mentioned, strikes the ageing Baron like a thunderbolt when he first catches glimpse of her & leads to him losing all his equilibrium which ultimately leads to his downfall. His adoration of Esther, because of the type of character he is, is very different to Esther's adoration of Lucien. The Baron wants to possess Esther at any price, & it is this weakness that is the device that Vautrin uses to force the wealthy banker to lavish millions on Esther. But as Esther tells him, no matter how much money & material possessions he gives her, she will never love him as she loves Lucien. The Baron, himself a thoroughly unscrupulous character, settles at nothing in his bid to find & finally have Esther as his mistress. Even though Esther tells him that once she has been forced to give herself to him it will be the death of her, he carries on with his pursuit regardless. Her sublime moment of revenge comes when she knowingly takes control of the situation that is being inflicted on her. She despises the Baron, & uses his weakness towards her as a weapon, until he finally admits that he has himself become "her slave," concluding that, "You have turned a man not without strength into a man of incredible weakness." (p.196) In case you are feeling too much sympathy with this revolting character, dear reader, I would ask you to consider Vautrin's words to Esther when she is feeling uneasy about using her charms to fleece the staggeringly wealthy banker of his money: "This man is a thief on the World Market, he's been without pity for a great many people, he's grown fat on the misfortunes of widows & orphans. You will be their revenge!" (p.161-162) Is it just me, or could Balzac be writing here about the Financial Crash of 2008 & the bankers & politicians who played such a prominent part in causing it? As Neil Hannon of The Divine Comedy would have it, "Lots for me, the complete banker!" In terms of his response to beauty - or to be more precise, Esther's womanly charms, as he is completely insensitive to the beauty of art & the natural world - the Baron's response is that of wanting to own & possess it, which of course he cannot do. For what it's worth, I was delighted when he got his comeuppance & I found it fascinating to contrast his principals with Esther's. As a rich member of high society, the Baron is feted wherever he goes, & it takes the skulduggery of an underworld criminal to bring him to his knees, even though he has built his fortune on the suffering of others & by being excessively ruthless in his dealings & is one of those people who justify their unethical & money grabbing ways with no end of high-sounding arguments. Esther, by comparison, is dismissed as a whore & is sneered at by society. But for all these outward appearances, she is the one with grace & soul & a joie de vivre far beyond that of the Baron. During her conversion in the nunnery, she is repentant of her past, but she also struggles to let go of some of the things she loved about life in the world, & still supremely conscious of her beauty & the great energy of life flowing through her, often has to retire to an unseen part of the convent garden so that she can dance & "flirt with the trees." Her devotion to Lucien is absolute, & she faces her situation like a warrior, & finds victory by the way she approaches what is demanded of her. It is said of her eyes that they will always contain "something of the infinitude that they have contemplated," & when describing Esther since she fell in love with Lucien, Balzac writes that the people at the masked ball were able, "to recognise that most moving of spectacles, a woman truly animated by love. The aged men that were present, as well as their youthful counterparts, experienced so lively a sensation on seeing her that they envied Lucien this high privilege of being with a woman who had turned into a goddess. What is the source of this light," Balzac wonders, " which shines about a woman in love, & marks her out from the rest? Or of that lightness which seems to defy the law of gravity? Is it the freed soul?" (SM, p. 31-32) Esther's wonderful, life-affirming appreciation of her own & Lucien's beauty, is in stark contrast to that of the world weary, satiated & all grasping capitalist, the Baron Nucingen.


Different Responses to Eve:
In the final book of Lost Illusions, Lucien's sister Eve & her husband David, find themselves in dire financial straits. Although part of the blame for this lies with Lucien, it is principally because of the owners of the larger, rival printing press in Anguoleme, the Cointet brothers, who, much like the Baron, use every tactic that law will allow to bully & cajole their smaller rivals. Being so powerful, & by using acquaintances, they manage to allow Eve & David's small printing press just enough work to survive, but deny it any chance whatsoever of thriving. Eventually, matters come to a head & Eve has to meet up with them to try & save her & her husband's livelihood. Eve has also been described  as possessing a rare kind of beauty, as well as a highly charming, unscheming character, & the way the businessmen (the Cointets) respond to her is another way that Balzac makes the observation that men who have become insensitive to the effects of beauty, have in fact, lost their souls. For they are so blinded by greed & self interest that Eve's charm makes no difference to them whatsoever, & they are as immune to her beauty as they are to her pleas. Forced to then seek advice from the local magistrate, Eve is in a state of desperation at this point, but his different reaction speaks volumes about Balzac's ideas about how you can get a glimpse into a person's inner life by how they react to beauty: "Impressed by Eve's beauty, the magistrate - who was a pillar of society & was the legal champion of widows & orphans - received her not only with the consideration due to a woman, but also with a kind of courtesy she had recently become unaccustomed to. At long last, she read in the magistrate's eyes an expression which, since her marriage, she had read only in her husband's. And that, for a beautiful woman like Eve, is the criterion for judging men. When some ruling passion of self-interest, or old age puts a chill in a man's eyes & quenches the gleam of complete deference which is ablaze in those of a young man, a woman then conceives mistrust for such a man & begins to watch him closely. The Cointets, & all the other men with whom she & her husband were struggling against so greatly had all looked at her with that type of dry, cold eye. And with a sigh of great relief, she therefore felt at ease with this magistrate." (p.554-555) I find this a fascinating piece of psychology to contemplate as the Cointets & their cohorts, concerned only with profit & obsessed with having power over Eve & David's humble printing press, are men who have not been moved one iota by Eve's beauty & personable, warm character & they are the ones that are as slippery as bars of wet soap & are constantly trying to rip them off. In all their scenes, art, nature, beauty, life & love are never mentioned. They are like grubbing, spoiled children who want simply to increase their wealth & simply laugh at the pain & suffering their power & actions cause to Eve, David & others. Balzac never explicitly judges them as characters, but I think the reader is left in no doubt how he feels about people who have lost the ability (if they ever had it in the first place) to respond to the beauty of women, life, nature & art, & it is not particularly complementary. And on a rather more humorous note, I couldn't help but chuckle when Balzac described how when the magistrate got home - after giving Eve a lift home - he found his wife completely furious with him & "in a fit of jealousy because of Madame Eve 's remarkable beauty." (p.562) Very Balzacian methinks to make a seemingly throwaway comment about the depth of female pride & anger! And this kind of feminine pride, especially when stirred by Lucien's beauty, shows itself in the novels in other instances, too, for example when a society lady that Lucien has rejected sees him again at a ball that they are attending, & Balzac notes that, "The more handsome Lucien was, the more she thirsted for revenge." (LI, p.458)

Lucien to Vautrin:
It becomes clear towards the end of Splendours & Miseries of Courtesans that Vautrin, & especially after his distraught reaction to Lucien's death, completely idolises Lucien, even though he has been using him in some respects for his own political ends. It has been suggested by critics that Vautrin is homosexual, & although Balzac never mentions this explicitly, there are many hints that suggest as much throughout the novels, & particularly telling for modern critics is the way that Vautrin is completely unmoved by Esther's beauty. After having realised that Lucien is deeply in love with Esther, he realises that his ambitious plan for Lucien to rise in society is under grave threat because of this, & that her life as a prostitute must be completely erased & that she must be given a completely different identity. On entering Esther's squalid apartment so he can take her to the convent, he finds her in a state of half undress & in despair over her situation. But although Esther has been acknowledged as being one of the most beautiful women in Paris, Vautrin was, " completely insensible to the delicious forms of that crouching Venus, which were as if magically revealed beneath the sheer black material of her shirt." (SM, p. 38) But when it comes to Lucien, Vautrin has been transfixed. After saving Lucien's life at the end of Lost Illusions, as I have already described, in Splendours & Miseries of Courtesans we find out more about the effect that Lucien has had on this most dangerous, master criminal: "For him, Lucien was more than a son, more than a beloved woman, more than a family, more than his life." (SM, p. 91) And, of course, if Vautrin had not have noticed Lucien's beauty in the first place, Lucien would have ended up in the river.

But Vautrin's role is more of a political than a personal one. Even though Balzac himself was a royalist, he was Friedrich Engels' favourite writer & was also much admired by Karl Marx. Although this appears at first glance to be a contradiction, as it's difficult to imagine the two authors of The Communist Manifesto having much time for a royalist, I am of the opinion that this highlights just one of the reasons why Balzac is such a fascinating author to read. For despite his own personal views, Balzac wrote about the world exactly as he saw it & George Lukacs states that, "Balzac saw with merciless clarity the class antagonisms engendered by capitalism." (p.22) He presented political systems & described with unnerving accuracy just how those systems affected people's lives. He described the valiant effort that characters with little or no fortune put into their lives in order to try & live a fulfilling life or to protect the ones they cared for. How capitalism was slowly but surely eroding humanity's finest impulses. And on a psychological level, too, he observed his own & other people's behaviour & then presented what he had learned through characters & situations in his novels & stories. And again, as with the politics of society, he did this without sentimentalism. Many people are grotesque individuals, & Balzac refused to shy away from presenting this. He created characters that are disloyal, unprincipled & repeatedly sell out for more money. Many are driven purely by greed & don't keep their word or believe in any greater good & are only interested in or concerned with themselves. And, as Balzac notes, usually whilst loudly proclaiming that they are in fact, the complete opposite. In this, Balzac is a great psychologist. He presents scenes in Lost Illusions & Splendours & Miseries of Courtesans which suggests how society often looks up to characters of a highly dubious moral nature, such as the Baron, but worships them & holds them up as success stories to be revered & emulated because they are rich. And meanwhile, a character at the bottom of the heap like Esther is abused, ostracised, judged & ridiculed because she has been born into poverty & is, even worse, a prostitute. But Esther has a hundred times more life, soul & compassion than the Baron & a hundred other such middle & upper class hypocrites combined, & she lives & behaves in keeping with her deep seated, sacred values, even though they are values that the hypocritical bourgeoisie disapprove of & mock her for. And unlike the capitalists who just sell out & change their minds at the drop of a hat in order to gain more money or obtain a better position, etc, Vautrin also shows that the world of commerce, law & capitalism is, in essence, no different from the the gangster underworld that he moves in. Driven by bullying, terror, money (or the lack of it), instigating fear in the powerless by the powerful, & encased in a protected shell as long as you know the right people or have family who can support you from ruin. But, Vautrin says, at least he is honest about his dealings. For me, the true heroes in Lost Illusions & Splendours & Miseries of Courtesans are the ones that fight relentlessly against the tides of self interest, greed, exploitation & ego: Esther, Eve, David, & sometimes, even Lucien. Balzac explicitly shows the crass hypocrisy of those who slander others for their behaviour, which is still alive & well in this day & age with slut-shaming & the like, even though it is done in the main by people who "secretly envy, but nevertheless choose to condemn loudly." (LI, p. 408) No wonder Marx & Engels learned so much about life, human nature & society by reading Balzac.



V
 Conclusion

Which brings me pretty much to the end of this essay on Balzac's exploration of the subject of beauty & a few other things in Lost Illusions & Splendours & Miseries of Courtesans. As I have already mentioned, it is nigh on impossible to do justice to these great works in the space of one blog. Balzac was a master at creating so many fascinating characters & exploring a great many subjects around life & the societies that we have created. Personally speaking, I have to agree with Oscar Wilde, who wrote that "A steady course of Balzac reduces our living friends to shadows, & our acquaintances to the shadows & shades. Who would care to go out to an evening party, when one can sit at home with Lucien de Rubempre?" (p.14) And echoing that which surely attracted Marx & Engels to his works, Oscar also writes that Balzac "...sees life from every point of view. \He has no preference & no prejudices. He does not try to prove anything.  He feels that the spectacle of life contains its own secret." (p. 14)  This is how I feel when I read Balzac. He is never a mere realist & his characters take on the substance of myth & "...have a fierce vitality about them: their existence is fiery coloured - they dominate our fancy & defy scepticism." (Wilde, p.14)


His take on how capitalism has turned life itself into a commodity - & it is worth recalling that there are now people in China who buy pure air from Canada because of the pollution caused by the impact of consumption & industrialisation on the natural world - is as relevant now, if not more so, than when he was writing in the 19th century. The idea, expressed with unstoppable force by Vautrin, that high powered bankers & businessmen are just as immoral as criminals, is hugely prescient when considered in connection with the Financial Crash in 2008 & how it happened, with high powered bankers basically using the system as a casino, with little or no regards for the devastation that a Financial crash might cause. Balzac's utterly honest & detached portrayal of how politics either privileges or hinders & destroys individual lives is astonishing, & although Balzac was a royalist, he can give his characters speeches such as this, which could be taken straight from periodicals & books dedicated to the critique & overthrow of capitalism: "Today we have no more faith, we now know only self interest alone. If everyone thinks only of himself, from where do you want to derive civic virtue, particularly if such civic virtue can only be achieved by renouncing self?" (Balzac, The Country Doctor, p.125)

So, this is my take on Balzac as a novelist of the social order & political landscape. But what about the subject of which I have been concerned with principally here, & of which Lost Illusions & Splendours & Miseries of Courtesans has so much to say, which is namely, beauty & its effects? I agree with the picture that Balzac paints in these two great novels that beauty has enormous effects on human beings, both as individuals & as a society. And not only human nature. For if we take a fleeting glance at the non human world, we can see similar instances. Is the grand peacock concerned about whether or not he is considered vain or whether "beauty is a snare"? I think that is unlikely. I can't really imagine a female peahen pondering over whether it is shallow to ponder over the beauty of her targeted mate. And studies do indeed show that the peacock with the most iridescent tail is the one that gets the hen. And what too of the Nightingale? Again, studies show that the male with the most beautiful, intricate song is the one that wins his intended's heart & gets himself blissfully laid. And the nightingales, as do the peacocks, have to compete with each other in this way to continue the species...& they are driven purely by the force of nature. Is it any wonder then that the likes of Lucien & Esther cause such a stir wherever they go & with whomever they happen to meet? It could be argued that they are simply a pagan god & goddess brought by Balzac into the rapidly emerging 19th century modern world. It is certainly a subject that has fascinated humans from time immemorial & is one I hope to study further in a future blog about Shakespeare's Antony & Cleopatra, coupled with some examples that I myself have personally witnessed. I would like to close here by saying that beauty certainly enriches life incredibly, but as Balzac shows, it can also disrupt life in equal measure. Lucien is able to use his beauty, he enchants people through it, it opens doors for him, but it also causes him no end of problems because of jealousy & infatuation. And Esther too is able to savour her beauty, & she worships Lucien's good looks, but equally, it leads her into situations that she perhaps wouldn't have found herself in if she had been born with different looks. People may disagree with me that beauty plays as large a role in human lives as I have suggested, but I think peacocks, nightingales, humans & a myriad of other species confirm that beauty is one of nature's finest gifts & its profound influence affects us all. To think otherwise I would suggest is probably to be as naive as a chap who asks at the counter of his local W.H. Smith if they have any jazz mags & who then shows complete surprise when he is handed a porno by the young lady behind the counter. Whatever else we conclude, at least the love that Esther has for Lucien & his beauty is authentic, & is far more vital & precious than any of the countless marriages of convenience & cowardice that are the lot of most of the bourgeois characters that Balzac presents in these two novels.

And so... if any of you are still with me at this point I am indeed very grateful. This blog has turned out a little longer than I had expected & I'm aware that not many people have the time to read any more as spare time is becoming an increasingly endangered species. Which is one of the reasons I'm glad that I have decided to spend a lot less time on social media, which is definitely proving to be a good thing. I want to find time to read Balzac & so many others like him that make my life much, much richer. And like the quote by Renton in T2 Trainspotting that I opened this essay with, I feel it is having a damaging effect on the way people interact with each other. It has its uses but I feel that I would rather meet up with my friends in person rather than have a relationship that is behind a screen & feels inauthentic in many ways. I'm also concerned that time is becoming so closed in & that fewer people will want to read great novels or study subjects with any great depth or level of commitment. It reminds me of something I read in Alain De Botton's book How Proust Can Change Your Life, where de Botton describes what Shakespeare would probably have to do today rather than write the masterpiece Romeo & Juliet:

"Tragic end for Verona lovebirds: after mistakenly thinking his sweetheart dead, a young man took his life. Having discovered the fate of her lover, the woman killed herself in turn." (p.42)

And all that sublime poetry would therefore be lost. And likewise, the close on 1,500 pages of Lost Illusions & Splendours & Miseries of Courtesans, with all its philosophy, psychology, sociology, politics, drama & romance, would have to be condensed into a type of 'News in Brief' meme, which would read along the lines of:


"Promising provincial poet left the county for Paris. Got in with a bad crowd & became a journalist. Ended up bankrupt, committed forgery & became close with notorious homosexual gangster. Dated a prostitute who fleeced innocent billionaire banker & all three wound up dead. Gangster became head of the CIA."

Anyways, such is life in a western neoliberal country at this specific moment of historical time & the increasing demands it places on us all. It is far from perfect I guess, but perhaps all we can do is try to make the best of it. So, enjoy & savour the beauty that spring is currently offering in such abundance, & try & take the time to let its magic work its wonders on your soul. The flowers, the birds & their songs, the bees & the blue skies. And of course, your very own personal Luciens, Eves & Esthers, whoever they might be & who make your heart skip a beat whenever they enter a room.  Because otherwise, & surely no one in their right mind would want this, as a people we could all end up like a right bunch of Cointets! To finish with for now, as Bowie sings in his immortal song 'Time',

"...take your time..."


And with that thought,
& until next time,
I do indeed remain,


Your Nocturnal Butterfly...




Bowie picture sourced here:
https://rhystranter.com/2016/08/29/a-guide-to-david-bowie-favourite-books/

The picture of yours truly with the glorious peacock was taken at the poet Lord Byron's former home, Newstead Abbey, in 2010.


Bibliography:

Balzac, Honore De. (Tr. by Herbert J. Hunt) Lost Illusions. Penguin Classics. (1971 ([1837-42]) 


Balzac, Honore De. (Tr by Heppenstall Rayner) Splendours & Miseries of Courtesans, or A Harlot High & Low. (1970 [1839-47])

De Botton, Alain. How Proust Can Change Your Life. Picador. (1997)


Lukacs, George. Studies in European Realism: A Sociological Survey of the Writings of Balzac, Stendhal, Zola, Tolstoy, Gorki. Merlin Press, London. (1972 [1950])

Wilde, Oscar. Selected Journalism: Balzac's Novels in English. Oxford Classics (2004 [1886])


Wilde, Oscar. The Critic as Artist. Wordsworth Classics. (1890)

Wednesday, 1 February 2017

T2: Trainspotting Review




T2: Trainspotting. I hardly know where to begin. What an extraordinary film. I laughed till my sides hurt, and cried so many tears that it could have filled my popcorn bucket. Absolutely amazing. If a film has been made that explores memory and ageing, friendship and betrayal in such a moving and profound way, then I believe I have yet to see it. There are some astonishing acting performances throughout. Jonny Lee Miller's Simon, Ewan McGregor, of course, and a truly terrifying Robert Carlyle as Begbie. But Ewen Bremner as Spud...what a majestic performance. He really does steal the show with a humorous, powerful, and incredibly moving portrayal of the junkie desperately trying to break the habit and build a life that includes his wife and son. Mark Kermode recently described T2: Trainspotting as a visionary film, and I couldn't agree with him more. Even Edinburgh and the Scottish mountains almost steal the film thanks to some absolutely breath-taking cinematography. And the new "choose life" scene was like a Shakespearean monologue on the bullshit and ills that surround us in the 21st century, each word like a perfectly aimed dagger thrust to the heart and mind. Oh...and the music, as expected, is perfectly chosen and backdrops the film so effortlessly you almost forget you are listening to a soundtrack.

It certainly hasn't escaped my awareness that it's incredibly surprising that I have been so intensely moved and affected by this film, as the original Trainspotting was a film I positively disliked when I first saw it. Much of that was because of where I was personally at that time, and also because of acquaintances of mine who acted in very similar, deplorable ways as some of the characters at their very worst, and they used the film to then legitimise their behaviour in a very unsavoury way. This just makes it all the more astounding that T2: Trainspotting has completely won my heart, and had done so before the opening credits had even finished rolling. 

"Here comes Johnny Yen again...
I've got a lust for life..."



Monday, 31 October 2016

Gold Dust Woman

 

"Rock on, ancient Queen!,
Many are those who pale in her shadow.
Everyone knows that Witches make better lovers.
She makes them put their kingdoms up for sale.

"Well, did she make you cry,
Make you break down,
Shatter your illusions of love?
And is it over now, and do you know how?
To pick up the pieces and go home?

"Rock on, ancient queen...
She's a dragon, a Gold Dust Woman...
A Gold Dust Woman..."


- Stevie Nicks, Fleetwood Mac,
'Gold Dust Woman'.


Happy Halloween, Witchy Ones!
- xx -

Friday, 2 September 2016

The Chemistry Between Us: Suede's 'Coming Up' 20th Anniversary, And How the Power of Love can Instigate Profound Change.

                     



Ch.I: 'Coming Up', Introduction

"Here they come with their makeup on, 
As lovely as the clouds come and see them."
Suede - 'Lazy'


"Obsessions in my head,
Don't connect with my intellect,
It's called obsession...
Can you handle it?

It's connected to this sound,
And it moves with the underground,
It's called obsession...

When you're around.

Obsession's just like sex,
It's simple and complex,
It's called obsession...
Can you handle it?"
Suede - 'Obsessions'

Suede's third album, the swashbuckling, strutting, Coming Up was released twenty-years ago today, and apart from making me feel rather old, it has given me the chance to wax lyrical about one of my favourite bands and reflect on some of the glorious songs that reside on it and explore why many of these songs have stirred my heart and soul as deeply as is surely possible for a heart and soul to be stirred. 'Saturday Night' was the song I heard first before the album's release, on some long-lost pirate radio station, and because the 90s wasn't my favourite era for music, any new release by Suede was anticipated with great relish, and this wonderful, unusual song about two people who stroll from "peep shows to discos..." immediately struck me as Suede gold dust. With the departure of guitarist and one half of the band's song-writing team, Bernard Butler after second album Dog Man Star, many people, and large sections of the music press, had already written Suede off, but this was the first confirmation for me that Suede were still going to be as good as ever, something I'm proud to say I never once doubted.

The album itself was an absolute wham bam, thank you ma'am, glam masterpiece. I recall 1996 as being a dreary old year in music overall, for someone with my sensibilities, the Manics' glorious Everything Must Go aside. Pulp's Different Class had been released in late 1995, and James's Whiplash album didn't surface until early 1997, and Oasis and other laddish indie-landfill Britpop bands dominated the alternative music scene, so the release of Coming Up felt like a gift that had been delivered directly from the Greek gods. To see Brett Anderson whirling around once again like a Dionysian dervish, both slutty and utterly fascinating at the same time, helped to ensure that I didn't take up stamp collecting instead of being engaged with that year's music scene. But although I dearly loved all the songs on the album, I wasn't quite in the right place emotionally to hear this music, as is always the case with me if something is really going to stick, with my heart rather than with my ears. But all of this was still to come, and irrevocably, the seeds had already been planted that were going to hatch like wondrous orchids almost a decade later. Suede are, if any of you don't know, simply devastatingly romantic, and as Lydia (yes folks, this blog is going to have a lot about our relationship in it as well, so if you don't like it, you may as well stop reading now) was still a distant, unknown star at this juncture of my life, I heard these wonderful tales about life-opening love with a wistful, but barely hopeful heart. It is often mentioned how difficult it is for women to see pictures of models in fashion magazines and then imagine themselves as being attractive when they compare themselves to these glossy images. Well lads 'n' lasses, I am here to reveal that it is quite difficult for some of us men (I hadn't been christened as a boy girl space creature yet) too! I was personally in a peculiar place at this stage of my life in the early to mid 90s. The male personas that were seen to be what it was all about and who young men wanted to emulate at that point of our culture were principally David Beckham and Liam Gallagher. I was nothing like either of them and had no desire to be, as both were complete Thatcherite philistines in my eyes, and even if they were very wealthy and the former actually had okay-ish hair and had pulled the best looking Spice Girl, as well as courageously wearing a sarong, this was completely undone by the fact that he played for Man Utd and acted like a prize penis whenever he played against my beloved Everton, throwing himself to the ground in an attempt to win free-kicks or penalties, and get Everton players sent off. To be like Beckham or the Gallaghers was principally, no matter how much wealth they had accumulated, to have failed. "A true heart these days is hard to find," Feargal Sharkey had sang but in the early 90s, a true role model was well nigh impossible to find & this was something I was still struggling with as my identity was in complete disarray. In fact recalling this period is making me break out in a sweat as I was so desperately unhappy and uninspired and so lacking in confidence that I would even hesitate to wear a beautiful, rich burgundy shirt that I owned in case I was considered a bit "too weird." These were dog days without diamonds or stars, indeed. But, bear with me, as for my Suede story this is important and when I listened to songs such as 'Trash' (oh what this song was to come to mean to me!), 'The Chemistry Between Us', and 'The Beautiful Ones', all I could see was a world of romance & divine decadent glamour (darlings!) of which I would never know, even though Suede's songs that were set in London transported me back pretty much physically in my mind to the many, incredibly joyous years I had spent living and working there in the past. So in the main, apart from whenever I was in London and especially on the tube, where Suede, Soft Cell/Marc Almond and the Pet Shop Boys ('Kings Cross' and 'Rent') would be all I would ever listen to, as to me, they literally were London, I found listening to Suede a slightly upsetting and even distressing experience. This had all started when I first heard Suede on their majestic self-titled debut album and on Dog Man Star, which included Brett singing lines of Byron's on 'Heroine' which quite literally floored me, and was to continue apace with their new album, Coming Up. It made me yearn intensely for the kind of love that Brett sang about and the kind of reckless abandon of emotion and not caring what others think that can go with it, and which I feared I would never know. So listening to Suede brought up a kind of strange, melancholy anguish, I suppose. And probably my overriding memory of Coming Up is again, of that beautiful haunting song, 'Saturday Night,' and I can remember vividly seeing the promo video for the first time as it remains bound like crystal in my memory. Set on the London Underground at night, with Brett looking like the all-knowing troubadour of love, in Holborn station (and I could practically smell the underground & feel the strange breeze on my face that the departing trains create whilst watching it), there suddenly appeared, coming down the escalator, eating greasy chips and looking impossibly otherworldly and glam, Louise Brooks look-a-like Keeley Hawes...



The pierce to my heart that this provoked was as if it had been run through with a dagger and the longing which the song itself already creates in spades, became quite suddenly almost unbearable. This type of life, I thought, would always be out of my reach. Never would I have on my arm, I reasoned, a confident, beautiful, stylish sensual woman who would, with a sparkling, devilish twinkle in her eyes, take me to peep shows, freak shows & discos, and to places where people go and let go. Life had up to this point taught me that the chance of finding somebody whose madness aligned just perfectly with mine was pretty much impossible. Although fortunately, little did I know just how wrong this misdirected prediction of mine would turn out to be. But at that particular moment it was the sad-eyed goldfish in the wretched little plastic bag, looking out with envy from his tiny imprisoned world that I identified with. And so, with that, Coming Up took its place among all my other CDs, to be only really brought out when I was feeling particularly dreamy and wistful (i.e., drunk!), or perhaps when some strange mood, which I can only describe as a kind of nostalgia for an imagined and dreamt of future that would probably never come to fruition, overtook me.


"Oh, but when she is calling, 
Here in my head...
Can you hear her calling?
And what she said...?"
- Suede, 'New Generation'

And then, not too much later in the future, I met the glamorous, mysterious and wonderful creature who would become my partner and in time, my wife. And quite soon after meeting her and particularly as our relationship drew ever closer, my haunting experiences of listening to Suede changed quite dramatically. For instead of listening to their songs wistfully and with a deep sense of sadness and regret, to my eternal joy I now felt like I lived inside them. And I very rapidly realised that Lydia actually had many of the glittering qualities of the heroines that populate Suede's songs in such dazzling abundance, to the point where she was actually not far away from being the living embodiment of a Suede song, in some extraordinary Pygmalion-like incarnation. 

Curious reader, I hereby give you example No. 1:

"A dangerous daughter in a leopard print skirt..."
Suede - 'Attitude'



And not only that, but she was also delighted to have me on her arm when we visited galleries and took a trip on a Gemini Spaceship to places like Liverpool, Port Sunlight and Manchester, and I had, to my great fortune, taken up residence in her heart as well. Because of this, instead of feeling strangely and achingly sad whilst listening to the likes of 'The Wild Ones' as I had previously, I now felt unbounded and unbridled exhilarating joy. My heart skipped many beats when it realised that it now had for a companion and soul mate someone who had a mischievous twinkle in her eye who would love nothing more than to go with me to peep shows, freak shows and discos, and to all the places where people go and let go. Someone hungry to engage with life and fascinated by human nature in all its manifestations and who loved to listen to fabulous bands, and especially see them live, and generally dive in head first and experience as many wonders in life as possible. A person who revelled in being an Astrogirl, and who loved nothing more at that period of our lives than to cruise through Liverpool and Manchester whilst we watched the likes of Ladytron, Ipso Facto, Plastic Toys, The Long Blondes and Dead Disco, like Two Creatures on the Run.



And, of course, one of our greatest delights was seeing Suede and we have seen them as many times as possible over the years, along with Brett Anderson's solo shows, (although we quite devastatingly missed his reunion with Bernard Butler as The Tears because I had to go to hospital to have a piece of grit removed that had lodged in my eye on the day of the gig; oh the irony almost finished me) but which included seeing an unforgettable concert which featured just Brett and a solitary cello player at Manchester University of Music which still ranks as one of the most sublime evenings of my life, during which I must have lost about half a stone in weight due to the amount of tears that I shed. But the crowning glory and very best was still yet to come. And this was it, folks: The London Suede, on a Saturday night in Brixton in 2011, playing Coming Up in its entirety as the third part of a trilogy in which they would play all of their first three albums...where on earth do I begin with such an extraordinary tale?




Ch. II: Whatever Makes Her Happy on a Saturday Night



Firstly, it was all about trying to get tickets. Some venues are a lot better than others regarding my requirements because of my CF, ranging from doing everything possible to help to basically informing me that I'm not welcome as it's too much trouble, and the Academy in Brixton were absolutely amazing. When Lydia called them, they informed us that they could guarantee us excellent seats (which actually turned out to be in the front row of the circle!), early entry so I wouldn't have to queue beforehand and all the help Lydia & I might need on the night...sometimes there is a generosity in humanity that still catches me unawares and this was one of those occasions. So, with all that done, the next bit was a frantic call to arrange a consultation with the specialist at the hospital the next day. "You're just about well enough to go but be aware you'll probably need to come in for IVs pretty soon after you get back." Then the realisation of what had just been said suddenly hit me..."Oh my word...that's basically the green light from the doctor which means we're off to London to see Suede!" 





"Come with me, baby,
Let your hair down...
Through every station,
Through every town...
From Heathrow to Hounslow,
London is our town..."
- Suede, 'Europe Is Our Playground'



With a Suede concert, as with their glam sisters the Manics, it all starts long before you arrive at the venue. Deciding on what to wear is all part of the excitement and anticipation, as going to see them is an experience and not just simply "any old gig." It is a much treasured, high octane event and leopard print is, of course, practically de rigueur on some part of your person, whether that be a top or blouse, skirt, shirt, or scarf, and the perfect outfit will be glam, have more than a hint of goth, be classy and individual, but also laced with that all important and crucial element of trashiness/tackiness. A challenging conundrum even for the initiated I'm sure you will agree. But once everything's been decided on (see pics below!), it's time for the adrenaline to start kicking in because you are heading out to see one of the last genuine glam bands who can whip up a frenzy which is becoming increasingly rare in these play it safe, sanitised X Factor/The Voice ruined days.






And then, suddenly, and before you have hardly got your bearings, as time seems to completely collapse on a Suede Concert Day, you are in the venue and among the sultry denizens of the night, the Dark Stars, the Drowners, the Metal Mickeys, the Animal Lovers and the beautifully bizarre. To me, it feels incredibly safe and rather like being at home among a family that you have chosen rather than one you've been born into. For me in any case, it is an infinitely precious moment...


"Oh, we are young and not tired of it, 
Oh, we are young and easily led, 
We are the kids and we're out of our heads." 
- Suede, 'The Chemistry Between Us' 

In fact, one of the things I love most dearly about Suede gigs is the looks of recognition between the glam element of their audience. It is generally a wordless phenomenon, but gazes linger for that extra second whenever sparkling, kohled eyes meet across the sizzling atmosphere. And the atmosphere really does sizzle like electricity. The Coming Up show had a fantastic suite of songs playing from the moment we entered the venue and took our seats and as showtime approached, and after we had been most certainly brought into the mood by the likes of Bowie, The Smiths, Sinatra, Scott Walker, and countless others, the house lights suddenly went out, and, as always, The Sex Pistols's 'Bodies' thundered from the speakers...


"Body... I'm not an animal! 
Mummy! I'm an abortion!" 

Once John Lydon and his dastardly crew had finished, the orchestral version of 'She' blasted from the speakers whilst deafening roars erupted from every corner of the hall. Cue the first of thousands of tears that would be shed by yours truly before the end of the night. Then the band took to the stage and the anticipation for that first note to begin became almost painful...and then after what seemed like an eternity had turned, Brett suddenly asked the audience, "What do they call us?!" before the band launched ferociously into the extraordinary love song, 'Trash.' 


"Oh maybe, maybe, it's the clothes we wear,
The tasteless bracelets & the dye in our hair,
Maybe it's our kookiness...
Or maybe, maybe, it's our nowhere towns,
Our nothing places & our cellophane sounds...
Maybe it's our looseness?

"Cos we're Trash, you & me,
We're the litter on the breeze,
We're the lovers on the street...
Trash, me & you,
It's in everything we do,
It's in everything we do!"
- Suede, 'Trash'

It is well known amongst our friends that Bowie's 'Heroes' was the song that we had playing when Lydia and me were married, but perhaps not quite so well known is that 'Trash' also played a big part in our wedding celebration. Lydia's uncle Mark accompanied me on the guitar whilst I serenaded her with this glittering tribute to outsiders who live by their own value system, so I'm sure you can appreciate how monumental it is for us to hear it played live by Suede themselves. 'Trash' ended to a a cacophony of cheers and applause and was immediately followed by the sneering 'Filmstar,' a viperous attack on vacuous celebrity with a gargantuan 'Moonage Daydream' sized guitar intro and which, I guess, has definitely crossed Lady Gaga's path at some point as it is a subject she explores regularly in her lyrics and videos as well. Brett challenges the Hollywood elites with the acidic lines...



"Filmstar...an elegant Sir in a terylene shirt tonight,
Filmstar...propping up the bar, driving in your car, it looks so easy...
Driving in your car tonight.
What to believe in when they change your name...
Wash your brain?...
Play the game again..."
 
I personally adore the terylene shirt line...it is so easy to picture a rich, soulless moron who thinks he's God's gift but has absolute nothing to offer but his fake tan, vacuity and plastic fame, and which reminds me of another of the dandy Sebastian Horsley's most memorable quips: "I would prefer to be an anonymous star than a famous nonentity." 'Filmstar' was duly followed by one of the album's (and Suede's) most playful ditties, 'Lazy'. which although opens with the carefree lines, "Here they come with their make-up on, as lovely as the clouds come and see them," still has room for a knowing nod to the other side of suburban life, with the "Barking mad kids and the lonely dads, Who drug it up to give it some meaning." Reading that back I have realised that I don't think there is actually any such thing as a playful Suede ditty! Even their most charming and breezy of songs always possess some kind of sting in the tale. The next song is one of the most beautiful and achingly dramatic in the whole Suede canon, 'By the Sea', which is shiveringly eerie in its prophecy in some aspects regarding Lydia and me and the path our live's would take, and I will discuss this in length in a later chapter. Next up was the sweeping, film noir, femme fatale drenched 'She', which I actually used in a college project I had to do as part of a study of Lady Macbeth's influence over Macbeth. No prizes for guessing who starred as Lady Macbeth of Chester in this particular updating of Shakespeare's classic play, and when my college friends saw the short film that we had made, they said that our friend Jason, who had a couple of lines in it as well, looked genuinely terrified! I told you that there was a bit of Lydia in almost every female character that Suede have ever sung about and I don't think getting on the wrong side of Lady M of Chester would have been the brightest of ideas in all honesty...Brooksy herself would have approved greatly of your wonderful portrayal, my darling! You were a true star!





Next up was 'The Beautiful Ones', which became a call to arms that night, as everybody roared the chorus at the top of their voices, almost taking the roof off Brixton Academy in the process. Brett prowled the stage with unbelievable intensity and with age-defying energy swept his band and the audience into an absolute frenzy, screaming "Come on!" in all directions to the audience during the extended intro, his shirt having already been ripped to pieces by the grasping hordes at the front of the stalls, dripping in sweat and with his fringe flopping around like a human peacock's feather. Brett's performances really do have to be experienced to be believed and I recall an interview he gave where he said that off stage they were the quietest, most bookish group around (now that is-not in the 90s methinks!!), sipping their Earl Grey or herbal teas and relaxing backstage before gigs. Once on stage, however, they become incendiary and this extraordinary ferocity and energy that they have is one of the vital ingredients that make Suede gigs the wonderful, unique experiences that they are. After 'The Beautiful Ones,' I knew that the next three songs were going to floor me emotionally. First up was the eerie, almost surreal 'Picnic By The Motorway.' Some of the lyrics in this song are so unusual and unsettling, such as the lines "There's been a speeding disaster so we'll go to the motorway," which always send a shiver down my spine and which reminds me of Magazine's 'Feed The Enemy' which runs, "It's always raining over the border, there's been a plane crash out there... In the wheatfields they're picking up the pieces, we could go and look and...stare." Both these songs firmly place you in J.G. Ballard territory and although it's not necessarily a pleasant place to be, it is definitely a haunting one, filled with the anxiety that comes with living in this late 20th/early 21st century modern world. And is there anyone in pop today who would come up with the lyric, "Hey! such a lovely day... looking at the lovers in a lay by with my little one"? I seriously doubt it. 'Picnic by the Motorway' is certainly one of of the few songs on Coming Up that could have had a home on the dank, dark masterpiece Dog Man Star. The last two songs of this part of the set were perfect, quintessential Suede. Achingly haunting love songs about outsiders who find their own bliss, in a way that matters to them and them only and which excludes the outside world's opinion and judgement from all consideration. 'The Chemistry Between Us', which Brett sang with such fierce intensity, kneeling in-between the wedges on the stage, with his eyes tightly closed and draining every last ounce of emotion from within him that I thought my heart would break. Then that gorgeous outro... which rang around the auditorium like space dust...these are the kind of moments that only live concerts with a band that you are head over heels in love with and who can write songs with this beauty and power can provide. The gentle "la la las" I can still hear even now...then the gradual fade out...the applause... and then many more tears from yours truly. And then Brett asks the audience the immortal words: "What night is it?" 'Saturday Night' then finishes the Coming Up part of the set and the realisation that this is something absolutely sacred floods through my electrified being. Suddenly, the realisation that I'm in London, on a Saturday night, clutching the hand of the love of my life, listening to one of the only two great art glam rock bands that remain playing their anthem to nights like this races through my mind, and the thought of just how much my life has changed since the first time I heard 'Saturday Night' all that time ago in 1996, could not have been greater or deeper. Was I overwhelmed at this point, dear reader? Well, if you are interested I know that some of you can ask Lydia. For the rest of you, I can only offer you this thought experiment... how deep is the ocean? How high is the sky?

After the interval, Suede returned to the stage and played a magical mix of songs from each of their albums, and some wonderful Coming Up era B-Sides, which was a magnificent and unexpected delight. And with that, this incredible evening became part of mine and Lydia's folklore. Hardly a month passes where we don't recall momentous nights such as these that we've been so fortunate to share and experience together and which have become all the more treasured since it is becoming clearer that my gig going days are now numbered because of my health. But I don't think I'm quite at that place yet so this is not the time or the place to discuss such thoughts. Everything Will Flow I guess. And then, if I do find myself feeling a bit despondent, I can still Close My Eyes and Count to Ten, and remember that we saw Suede play Coming Up in its entirety in London on a Saturday night. And surely, aren't concerts like this the only reason why Saturday nights were invented in the first place?





Image result for london suede by the sea


Ch. III: By The Sea

"We sold the car, she quit the job,
And shook some hands and put the make-up, right on...
We said our goodbyes to the bank,
Left Seven Sisters for a room in a sea-side shack...

It's by the sea we'll be...
It's by the sea we'll breathe..." 
- Suede, 'By The Sea' 






Replace Seven Sisters with the name of the quaint but rather Philistine city in the north west that we lived in before we moved down south almost three years ago and this verse, almost word for word, tells our story. It is extraordinary how prophetic it has proved to be and although it is a song whose message about leaving somewhere to start a new life in a seaside town had always appealed to me, I never for one second imagined it would prove so literal. As I have written about many times before, there are four major influences in my life from the world of "rock" music: Bowie, the Manics, James, and Suede. And it thrills me to connect the dots sometimes and see how their deepest lyrics can have profound, positive results much later than when you first heard that particular song, sometimes a decade earlier. It was a pretty scary decision for us to make to up sticks and move hundreds of miles from the area where we had lived for most of our lives. And when you add in the reactions of some acquaintances of ours who warned us steadfastly against taking such a risk, it is even more important to have other poetical voices to remind you that the safe option is not really living. This Suede song for me, and, notably some wonderful James songs for Lydia, are absolutely crucial in offering an alternative narrative about taking hold of life and encouraging you not to give in to that feeling of fear before you take the plunge with something many others would shy away from. After all, as Boothy sings on James's epic track 'Sound', "Fear is not to be afraid of." Sometimes, being reminded of this is as important for the spirit as the air that we breathe and the food that we consume is for the body. Suede, like the other bands I've just mentioned, along with many others that are much too numerous to mention, have encouraged, nurtured and soothed my soul at various, vitally important periods of my life. It may sound corny, but I do wonder occasionally how barren my existence would seem to me if I'd never connected with them. It's a meaningless question to contemplate in reality, however, as even for an old atheist/agnostic like me, it was always going to be thus and ever thus would be!






CH. IV: Head Music




Which brings me, pretty much, to the conclusion of this blog about Suede, their Coming Up album and any other little tales that I can relate. With regard to Suede themselves, it is truly wonderful that they are still together, writing, recording and touring after a temporary split between 2003-2010. Their other albums continue to enchant, inspire and intrigue me, and if I may tell a little story here about a lovely misheard lyric, I'm sure Lydia won't mind too much. The album that followed Coming Up, Head Music finds Brett at his most lyrically mischievous & flirty, as he has always been. On the title track, the chorus has a catchy refrain which is quite difficult to make out precisely. After we bought his published book of lyrics, I wanted to create a T shirt for Lydia's birthday as she had said she had always wanted one, but had never been enamoured enough of the official ones to buy one. As I knew she loved this song, I went to Aflex Palace in Manchester, and to smiles and comments of appreciation (i.e., "what a fuckin' boss lyric to have printed on a shirt, lad!") from the printers, had this T shirt made, which I'm glad to report, she absolutely adored and wore with great flirtatious effect for many a year until it had stretched completely and utterly out of shape! The front featured the Head Music album cover...



...Whilst on the back was scrawled the legend...



But the thing that remains with me now, and I will never be able to hear the original lyric as shown above, no matter how many times I listen to this song, is what Lydia thought was actually being sung and I'm convinced Brett would change it to if he ever got to hear it:


"Give me head...
Give me head...
Give me head
You stick insect!"
- Lydia's chorus of Suede's 'Head Music' 

This is the version of the chorus that I will always sing whenever I hear 'Head Music' until the day I shuffle off this mortal coil. And do you know what? I reckon Brett Anderson would love it too. He seems such an affable person who doesn't take himself too seriously and this is something I reckon he would be delighted with as it's laced with a Suedeian type of humour. But just a couple more remaining stories before I sign off!
  






CH. V: "Music Like Sex You Like To Have Sex To."
-Suede, 'Music Like Sex'



As some of you may already know, Brett is an extremely handsome chap and some of the lengths people will go to to try and get a piece of him borders on the hysterical. No sooner has he made one of his regular trips to the front of the audience than his shirt is practically torn off his back as people try to get their pound of flesh. And let's face it boys and girls, he is & has always been quite a looker!











With this in mind, and considering the heaving amounts of pulsating desire that Brett generates during gigs, which definitely makes most people go a bit Starcrazy and act like they've taken a bit too much animal nitrate and lost all sense of propriety, which, in truth, is all part of the plan as Suede's music is Music Like Sex You Like to have Sex to, I have a very humorous recollection of one of Brett Anderson's solo concerts that we attended. Brett's solo gigs are, although undoubtedly slightly less frenzied and not as heavily populated as Suede gigs, still sweaty, sensual affairs and at this particular show I'd been given a stool to sit on just in front of the barrier with the photographers in the pit, right in front of the rest of the audience. I couldn't help but notice a couple of very excited and over-animated young women next to Lydia and one of them was wearing a particularly low cut top, which she kept checking as she was obviously a bit concerned that she was having a bit of a wardrobe malfunction & was in danger of falling out of. When Brett came on to the stage, I turned to Lydia to mention something I'd noticed to her (probably about what he was wearing!) and saw the complete opposite of what I thought had actually been happening with the woman standing next to her. For instead of worrying about "falling out" of her top, another button was hurriedly undone and her rather ample cleavage attempted to take centre stage as she frantically tried to get Brett's undivided attention through her rather well-exposed decolletage. I could hardly stop laughing and Lydia thought it was hysterical too (as did Brett himself!) And later during the gig, Lydia herself actually had the pleasure of holding Brett's hand during one of the slower songs, which was obviously another wonderful moment us to treasure and recall, and whilst having not quite had the privilege of clutching Brett's hand, I indeed have had my own personal and, in its own magical way, unforgettable experience with him. At the concert in Brixton, we were allowed to park at the back of the venue so as to make it as easy as possible for me and we knew this was quite a big deal as we had to give them our car registration number and write down a code to give to the venue's car park security officer so we could have access. Lydia had dropped me off by the door which was at the back of the hall and went to park the car which was around a corner, when I suddenly noticed a thin, tall young man striding through the light London mist towards me. Within seconds I recognised that outlined figure and my heart leapt as I realised it was none other than Mr. Brett Anderson himself. It took every ounce of my self constraint not to talk to him, as I didn't want to spoil any chance of other people who had disabilities from being able to park at the back of the venue because the artists were being accosted as they themselves arrived, and also because I knew he would be preparing mentally for an important concert. We made eye contact, however, and as I had my Bird of Paradise-orange Bowie bag flung flamboyantly across my slender shoulder, he glanced at it and a nodding smile of approval flashed across his face as our eyes, for a brief moment, met. He talked to somebody briefly outside the door as he went in and then was gone but nothing could dampen my delight. Under a London sky, I had literally breathed the same air and trod the same ground as the one and only Brett Anderson and we had exchanged a knowing glance about David Bowie to top it off. This was more than enough for me. Indeed, anything more and I would probably have swooned, collapsed & needed resuscitating! I just wished Lydia had been there at that moment, although she said she'd had a good ogle of him herself when she saw him walking past and wondered if she'd find me unconscious when she got to me a few moments later by the door! Such are the beautiful instances that this crazy little thing called life can throw unexpectedly into your path. Ah...Suede, Suede, Suede. Or the London Suede as they are known in the U.S, and which I believe is an even more befitting name for them than their shorter British version, such glorious, soul enhancing moments have you given me. A life without you is simply unimaginable.

And for my beautiful wildflower, Lydia, these words pretty much say it all...


"You say what you want to say,
Your diamonds are drops of rain,
Your smile is your credit card,
Your currency is your love...

And the morning is for you,
And the air is free,
And the birds sing for you...
And your positivity."
Suede - 'Positivity'



So, in the words of Suede...

Be Insatiable...
Stay Trashy... 
Love The Way You Love...
And Give a Little bit of Attitude! 

Words to live by. 

Until next time, I remain,

Your Nocturnal Butterfly...














                                  Suede - Saturday Night (Official Video)



                                               Suede - Trash (Official Video)


                          Lydia as Lady Macbeth of Chester!:


               Suede/Brett Anderson pics can be sourced here...
                                          http://brettanderson.tumblr.com/