Friends And Lovers

With A debut solo album entitled People Move On, there was little doubt that Bernard Butler was determinedly distancing himself from his past as the sonic architect of the first two Suede albums. That collection’s fragile, introspective mood certainly confirmed that he’d made a fresh artistic start. It also possessed an endearingly tentative charm, whereas on Friends And Lovers he’s far more confident in his vocal abilities and more assured about his musical direction – unfortunately that direction appears to be the grey days of the early ’70s.

Sure, Butler can construct a solid enough tune, but the spirit of adventure which made Dog Man Star such a landmark recording is markedly absent, replaced instead by the kind of instantly forgettable plodders which may well appeal to cloth-eared Weller and OCS fans, but which have no place whatsoever in a world where concepts such as style, spirit and invention are cherished.

Lyrically, Butler is extremely banal and the homespun homilies of ‘You Must Go On’ and ‘No Easy Way Out’ ( go on, have a guess what the themes are) aren’t even enlivened by particularly sparkling stringmanship.

Throughout the album it’s impossible to escape the feeling that Butler is telling us he wants to be regarded primarily as a singer-songwriter rather than the great guitarist he undoubtedly is. This underplaying of his essential talent isn’t helped by a band who are dull and unimaginative in the extreme, their lumpy, stodgy clumping reaching its nadir on the eight-minute snoozeathon that is ‘Has Your Mind Gone Away?’.

If you fancy solid, reliable, professional workmanship then Friends And Lovers could be for you. Personally, I’d rather waste 50 minutes watching a few blokes building a wall.