MV RESEARCH - Performance Influences

LENGTH OF LYRICS SUNG:


BRETT ANDERSON
BRETT ANDERSON HIMSELF

• Clapping, like Dave Gahan in I Feel You video
• He's clapping to the beat of the drum
• He's also lip-synching while there are no lyrics playing 

The 2013 We Are The Pigs in Paris (see below) Turning around and walking to the drums, then jumping with back still turned.

02:11 - 02:20

He really does a lot of jumping, as can be seen in this vid.

OTHER MUSICIANS:
George Michael's dance in his Faith video, while the French guy compares him to Elton John.

GUITAR
Mat Osman, Base guitar up

02:06 - 02:09



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Kate Bush would be fitting:
https://www.theguardian.com/music/2017/nov/14/kate-bush-hotline-bling-unofficial-history-pulling-awkward-shapes

MV PLANNING - The protagonist's quirks

Dancing (like Buddha) but mainly like Dave Gahan in Barrel of a Gun

Water bubbles

Dancing at the stones at night (test if night footage is effective, tomorrow), has the same functions as Stone Henge and the Ziggurat. Dance almost in a spiritual way, like summoning this alien invasion (research spiritual dancing).

Notices she is being followed, but takes control of it and lets herself be photographed.

Goes to the campfire and spreads pamphlets (something you could connect with social media). Have simple word or emblem on them. Like: "Rebel" or the name of one of the songs, can then be spread like the 500k bills at the Kraftklub concert.

The normal people behind her bow and sing to lyrics, she is freaked out by them. 

Playing with colourful leaves

Might dream of vandalising art like in Suede's Hit Me video.(in this case just the buckets of paint)

ARTIST RESEARCH - Live Performances

POSSIBLE POINTS OF INFLUENCES:

• Influence for some of the images to tease the tour on the website and social media.

REVIEWS, from Melody Maker:

STARSPOTTING. Robbie Fowler. Good. Hollyoaks cast. Bad. After the gig, back at the hotel, I get in the lift. Brett Anderson's pressing the button for the fifth floor. God, he's lush, I think. But then I remember the gig. And the thrill has gone.
It's like meeting the best f*** of your life, two years on, and wondering how you even stayed awake. There was a time, of course, when Suede were a sex fantasy and soundtrack rolled into one. An alternative lifestyle. They made me varnish my nails, buy a good suit, kiss and tell, trust romance. Tonight, I feel embarrassed by that. Wondering if I read too much into them (YOU NEVER CAN), if they were worth it. They were, but it clearly means nothing to them now.
Brett once had ideas about Pop Stardom — the responsibility, the limits, the freedom. Now he wants to be in Just Another Band. One of the lads. Liverpool gets a stage show with a script we've seen too many times (that cocked arse gives us nothing but FAMILIARITY), underscored by the most bogstandard performance you never thought them capable of. For a band whose best moments always came in the spaces between nuances, the sumptuous DETAIL of their sound, tonight's gig is a distressingly shabby barrage of blare and treble. All you can hear is Brett's voice, Simon's drums and Oakes' overstated, overwrought guitar. Neil's keyboards might as well be at the bottom of the Mersey, Mat Osman's bass doesn't reveal itself all night. And, God, they're in such a f***in' RUSH.

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