For a band that spectacularly imploded nearly 20 years ago, Suede are having a fantastically productive afterlife. This is album number four since their resurrection in 2010 and they continue to quite spectacularly hold their own. They have no interest in being elder statesmen, churning out identikit record after identikit record. They seem driven by the same creative thirst that led them to produce the astonishing trilogy of their self-titled debut, “Dog Man Star” and “Coming Up”. 

2016’s “Night Thoughts” and 2018’s “The Blue Hour” saw them fully embrace their art school pretentious sensibilities, disappearing down the same progressive rabbit hole that they did with the exquisite “Dog Man Star”. Suede never stood still during the first incarnation and they not planning on doing so now. 

“Autofiction” sees them take a massive left turn into glam punk. There is a distinct whiff of familiar territory as this does feel like the same creative hunting ground that they stalked when writing their first album. They have shelved the intricate pretension and instead gone back to writing short sharp rock songs that exquisitely walk the fine line between commerciality and coarseness. 

If they were a bunch of 16-year-olds doing this, we would have already lifted them up on our shoulders and marched through the town proclaiming that they are the new messiahs. But instead, it’s a seasoned and weather-worn bunch of 50+ year old men and there are running rings around all-comers. 

Suede have chosen to ignore the memo that says veteran bands should have nothing further to say and instead they have channelled into that same burning desire that made them such an amazing proposition all those years ago. Conclusive proof that they have no intention to go gently into that good night.