Brett Anderson

Suede, review: nostalgic anthems for a wasted generation

• We're so young!” crooned 54-year-old Brett Anderson, standing tall on a sound monitor at the front of the stage, one arm raised aloft, eyes gleaming, sweat drenching his open necked black shirt, like a deranged goth preacher addressing his congregation on an impossible article of faith. And 10,000 middle aged fans defiantly took up the refrain, answering back: “And so-o-o-o-o-o-o gone!”