When you consider that it was premised on the notion that Damon Albarn and Noel Gallagher had won the 1997 General Election for Labour, it was never likely that last year’s Britpop documentary Live Forever would provide a sane, never mind authoritative, account of that strange and interesting little period in British social history.

But was it really too much to expect the film to at least try to look beyond the holy Camden trio of Oasis, Blur and Pulp?
Where was Polly Jean, Nicky Wire, Tricky, Thom Yorke? All, the last time I looked, British. And all at that time actively involved in probing what exactly pop meant.
And where were Suede? The band who, in hindsight, got there first and, unwittingly or not, helped draw the margins that the Adidas-masses would go on to colour in.
If history is truly written by the winners (and Noel’s interview in his throne-room says all that needs to be said about what side he finished on), you can draw your own conclusions. But if you’re expecting the band to be upset, then don’t. Because the Britpop narrative is one they don’t mind being erased from.
“Oh, we couldn’t care less,” says long-term bassist Mat Osman. “They wanted us to take part in the film but we didn’t want anything to do with it. That whole period took off just as we were discovering the rest of the world. We were more interested in finding out about Europe or Asia than pretending we went to dog races.”
But not so fast, sir. Weren’t you the band featured on the cover of Select standing in front of a Union Jack?
“Which they superimposed without our knowledge,” he replies. “We found that really offensive, wanted nothing to do with that kind of nationalism. The reason we were loved was because we wrote about real life – a romanticised version, but pretty honest – and that real life, to us, was based around living in London in abject poverty. But it was never important that it was London, we always wanted our songs to be universal.”
If Suede never quite lived up to the early promise of their first two glorious LPs their just released Singles collection shows just how artfully they’ve been able to dodge the frequent blows (loss of band members, problem relationships, and, according to a forthcoming authorised biography, intra-band heroin addictions) that have come their way and maintain a devoted, if pale and skinny, fanbase in the process.
“Yeah,” laughs Mat, ”looking back we’re kind of embarrassed at how clichéd it ended up becoming. Kids from the sticks come to the big city, make a splash, almost lose it in a fog of drugs and madness, and come back and save the day – total David Essex syndrome.”
With the promise of “a load of short and really filthy” new songs in the pipeline, Mat is keen to stress the optimism with which the band are currently approaching the future. But talk of that can wait for now. Although claiming the band “hate nostalgia”, Mat admits that preparations for the Singles LP (including a run of gigs at the ICA which saw them play a different album in its entirety on consecutive nights) has led to quite a few backward glances. So which moments stick out?
“Loads. My favourite time was around Coming Up because there was so much at stake for us then and we managed to come back with a really great upbeat record. But I have to say there are so many small moments: playing China this year and having the stage rushed by demented kids; being in the room with Bernard the day he wrote ‘Metal Mickey’ and then ‘Pantomime House’; recording ‘The Wild Ones’ and just thinking this is fucking timeless, we can’t lay claim to this one. It’s been brilliant.”
Who knows what distance is left to run in the Suede journey, but it’s good to know they don’t look back in anger.

Singles by Suede is in the shops now