- I'm on my way to see ABBA Voyage and suddenly get a message from my Suede tour friends to keep the 5th and 6th free. Nobody knows why. Just keep those dates free.
- Be in London on the 5th and/or Manchester on the 6th. Nobody knows why. Just be there. Brainstorm on the train home trying to figure out what I have on at work next week. Can I go to Manchester without having to take holiday. I get home and decide the answer is yes. Hotels and trains are procured.
- I get out of the cinema and take my phone off airplane mode in the toilets. My phone has exploded with BABE HAVE YOU GOT A TICKET messages. I buy a ticket to see a band called Crushed Kid. My heart feels like it’s going to explode as I sit in the cubicle trying to remember my login details for a ticket site I haven’t used in years.
- I bring forward my plans to dye my hair and make Suede-themed jewellery and finish embroidering Brett’s autograph onto my jacket. Everything is done by the end of the weekend.
- Monday, I work an early shift so I can leave the office an hour early to travel to Preston. I can work from there, it’s only 35 minutes on the train to Manchester. I listen to four songs on repeat all the way - She Still Leads Me On, 15 Again, That Boy On The Stage, Shadow (of my former) Self. I spend the night unable to sleep in my crappy hotel room. I dream about Suede.
- Tuesday morning, I get up early again and work another early shift so I can leave the office an hour early to travel to Manchester. I see photos and read reviews from London. It’s almost time.
- I arrive at Piccadilly station in my Metal Mickey t-shirt. I am powerwalking to the hotel so I can drop my things and speed to the venue. In the station, I walk past an elegant skinny character with long hair and black leather jacket. I smile at Neil Codling and wonder if he noticed me.
- I powerwalk from my hotel to the Piccadilly Gardens bus stops. I walk past a girl I was friends with a decade ago who I hoped never to see again. I’m going so fast that hopefully she didn’t have time to register me. The rain starts pouring as I approach the buses and I jump on the first one I see that is going my way.
- There are a couple of people outside the Deaf Institute and a lot more outside the Sandbar, the pub across the road. I say hi to the people at the door. I find my friends - we’re reunited for the first time since the Autofiction film shoot.
- Someone informs us that barriers have gone up outside the venue and we rush outside to join the queue. The rain starts again and we’re allowed inside to queue on the stairs. The toilets are wallpapered with Dolly Parton images and covered in graffiti. We’re all back together.
- The doors open. The Deaf Institute auditorium is about the size of the living room in my parents’ house; there’s no barrier. My friend is pressed against the stage in front of Richard and I’m directly behind her, second row. The DJ plays 80s post-punk and I stare at Brett’s microphone stand five feet from me.
- Technicians tape down setlists, put out little bottles of water, check the guitars are ready. We wait (im)patiently for 8:30pm.
- Without stopping the music or dimming the lights, Simon, Richard, Mat and Neil saunter on stage. The crowd goes wild. Brett makes his own grand entrance. He’s wearing a white shirt. They launch into Autofiction.
- She Still Leads Me On live for real, not mimed for a music video. Brett’s voice amplified through a microphone that’s turned on and not just heard from beside me in the crowd, although the place is tiny enough that we’d have heard him without.
- Richard has four or five shirt buttons undone. Neil is dressed exactly as I saw him earlier. His hair is wavy at the front; he must have been caught in the rain too.
- Brett and I make eye contact for a second during one of the songs I haven’t heard yet. Personality Disorder, perhaps. I gaze up at him, reaching out for him. I can see my hand with its Portobello Road Market rings and homemade bracelets reaching for him in fan photos the next day.
- He kicks his bottle of water off the stage. It bounces off my friend’s face and lands on my chest. It stays between my feet for the rest of the set. Then in my bag for the rest of the night. Now it’s at home with me. After a couple of songs he complains to his technicians that they didn’t put enough water on stage for him.
- 15 Again, That Boy On The Stage, some new songs I’ve not heard before. Drive Myself Home is the most beautiful piano ballad, like By The Sea if it didn’t swell up into a pop song. Brett sings tenderly but keeps walking over and pointing at the monitor we’re pressed into. His pointing and facial expressions become increasingly angry. The cable is loose and he can’t hear himself.
- Brett is drenched in sweat and his white shirt is translucent. I can just about reach him when he steps towards us. I can see every fleck of spit that comes out of his mouth when he’s singing passionately. He has been sticking his tongue out since he stepped on stage.
- Shadow Of My Former Self becomes Shadow Self. The chorus sounds strange at its correct pitch after listening to the edited version so many times. This time next month, it’ll be the edited version that sounds strange.
- What Am I Without You is a ballad in the style of theatre - an ‘I’m Going Home’ or a ‘People’ made Suede. Brett says he wrote the song for us, the audience, and that he’s also an audience, and that we want the same thing, he doesn’t know what it is but he knows we all want it.
- Finally he steps close enough during the final song for me to put a hand on his thigh. The lady next to me ushers me into her spot so I can move it to his stomach, his ribs. He is soaking wet and his sweat coats my fingertips as I press my hand against his body.
- The album ends and the band leaves. Richard shakes hands with a couple of fans in front of me. The smile on his face is a mile wide. Same goes for everyone else in the room.
- We’ve filed out to the stage door, mingling. Justin Welch from Elastica is driving the van. I’ll never get to see Elastica live so it’s nice to spot him in this context.
- Brett and Simon are mingling with everyone. Brett makes lighthearted conversation, asks if everyone is happy, offers to put his signature on setlists and t-shirts. We all huddle together for the customary group photo. He says he has a feeling it’s going to be a good picture.
- We’re back in the Sandbar until closing time. Catching up on what we’ve just seen. Staring at each other wide-eyed, lucky, increasingly sleepy. Groups begin to split up - off to the hotel vs into the night. There’s McDonalds and Ubers and 5 hours of broken sleep.
- Wednesday, I work an early shift so I can leave an hour early to get home. I’m sleepy, but happy. The Brett group photo appears in the morning, along with lots of other photos and reviews. My friend posts some of my photos and Suede share them on their Instagram.
- I get to the train station and find that my train is delayed for an hour. I’ll miss the last bus home. I hop on another train that is due in on the same minute my bus leaves. The bus company slides into my DMs to promise they’ll delay the bus by a couple of minutes if I rush to catch it, and I make it home. There’s a ticket in my letterbox for next weekend’s Suede concert.