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Don’t Forget the Songs-365: Mach Dos: Day 108
Thurs. April 26, 2012

“Sleeping Pills”
Suede
1993

“♫ Angel, don’t take those sleeping pills, you don’t need them […] ♫”

Already in first line of Brett Anderson’s lyrics to “Sleeping Pills” he single-handedly surpasses the lyrical intentions of both Morrissey’s “Angel, Angel down We Go Together” and The Stones “Mother’s Little Helper. That’s how powerfully beautiful this unheralded gem is from Suede’s self titled debut.

According to David Barnett’s authorized biography Suede: Love and Poison—Brett wrote “Sleeping Pills” on a lunch break while doing volunteer work at a local community center he clarified by saying— “There were all of these housewives that used to trundle in […] and the only escape they had was to get a load of Valium and down them.”

This was signature moment where the sound of Suede instantly evolved with Brett penning “Sleeping Pills.” Brett explained: “It wasn’t the first ballad we’d written but it was the first really beautiful piece of music. I wanted to address real issues rather than just talking about meaningless rock rubbish.”

As presented, Suede were the love and poison of London. Even now it’s their deeper, emotional songs like “Sleeping Pills” are the ones I cling to the most.

In Beat Magazine, Brett expanded on the importance of songs like “Sleeping Pills” were to Suede when said —“[The] beauty and songs like: Sleeping Pills, Wild Ones and Asphalt World, they were the message of Suede. […] I wanted to write, songs that really dragged people into some sort of emotional landscape. There was always the duality seeing the world as an intensely beautiful place but also an incredibly threatening place at the same time, where you could find the murky corners of life too.”

“Sleeping Pills” was supposed to be the third single from Suede but it was replaced by “Animal Nitrate.” What a shame, it would have been brave in the dawning of Brit Pop for a band like Suede to release such an emotional epic. And just because it was raining and I had this urge to hear some “Sleeping Pills—” lay back and revile in the magnificent melancholy that is Suede.

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