Louise Wener – Different for Girls: My True-life Adventures in Pop

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It all seems a bit daft now. Music channel The Vault are currently broadcasting 1997 editions of The Chart Show, which are vaguely depressing to watch as the contents are usually dire, from the unimaginative whine and drone of the Seahorses to a cavalcade of artists where you simply scratch your head and ask “who on earth are they?”. Sleeper popped up the other night, during the Indie Chart performing ‘Romeo Me’, their final single that barely scraped the bottom of the top forty. Everything, the song, the video, it all gave the impression of a spent force, of a band going through the motions after everyone else had left, departing the good ship Britpop for fresh waters.

In Louise Wener’s account of these years, Different For Girls, she confirms that basically this was the case. At the end, they knew it was over, opting to grind to a halt as a band before the label had a chance to drop them. She likens it to Britpop being the Titanic, with Damon and Jarvis cosy in the lifeboat clutching copies of ‘Beetlebum’ and This is Hardcore to their chests, whilst Sleeper, Rick Witter and the rest battled it out in steerage.

That is not to say that they didn’t have fun along the way, as recounted in this well-written, accessible biography that talks more about what it means to make the move from ordinary citizen to pop-star than anything meaningful about Cool Britannia. The books strength lies in how much of her character comes through, and her recollection of her early years are every bit as interesting and enjoyable as tales of stealing cheese from Blur or watching The Wannadies do something unpleasant with their genitals.

What the first part of the book does is show the transition from gawky, nervous girl to an apparently confident leader of a band. Significance is made of the minutiae of teenage life, from the decision whether to purchase a Human League album over Moon-boots, and seeing The Jam at her first ever gig. She also examines the peer-pressure that exists through life, from the jealous sneering of what she calls “the goal attack girls” from school which transposes into adulthood, and the unwelcome derision of those in the music business.

What is refreshing though, particularly in the latter half of the book, is how little bile and resentment she feels. There are a few sarcastic comments about other bands, but on the whole it is when discussing herself that she is the most critical. It is only her record company and their poor business decisions that get any real abuse. The closing chapter is full of charm, and shows the obvious affection and friendship she still shares with the other members of Sleeper. The concept of “Sleeperbloke” is touched upon, but throughout the book they are never portrayed as an autonomous backing band, moreover as individuals with their own concerns, needs and problems.

This is no sordid revelation, nor is it full of barbs and sarcastic putdowns. This is an excellent biography that is witty, full of colour and character. It marks those pivotal moments in a person’s life where choice faces them with the opportunity to follow a desire to do something different, where fate comes in and you sometimes get lucky. No matter how Sleeper ended, she seems to have no real regrets and this excellent tale of slight fame has much to offer.