I first saw Sleeper at the Shepherds Bush Empire in May 1994, where they were supporting Blur on their Parklife tour. Their performance left more of an impression on me than the headliners': Louise Wener in her wide-eyed, breathy-voiced splendour, slashing at her Telecaster and singing punky songs about libido. The music press loved her, of course, continually sticking her on front covers and asking her how she felt about teenagers masturbating over her posters – a question that was rarely put, one noted, to Liam Gallagher or Thom Yorke.

Her Britpop memoir is smartly written and very easy to read; funnily enough, my favourite bits were actually the early parts, before she was famous, where she evokes the experience of growing up in the suburbs in the 80s and 90s really well. When she finally gets into the band stuff, she is somewhat light on details – we hear that she is touring with Elvis Costello, or going on Top of the Pops, but it's all a bit detached, and there are no details of, for instance, how particular songs were written, or where they came from.

Sleeper, despite their media-friendly exposure, were never quite a top-tier band, but perhaps that helped them avoid the worst depredations of heroin-based debauchery that seemed to overtake a lot of their compeers. ‘Fame,’ Wener concludes succinctly, ‘is a fiefdom of wank,’ and, as in The Last Party, one senses the nakedly aggressive competition that obtained between a lot of these Britpop groups. ‘We all loathe each other beyond redemption,’ she says, only half-joking.

Sleeper's own decline and fall was exacerbated by inter-band tensions – Wener was originally dating the guitarist, Jon Stewart, but left him for drummer Andy Maclure while touring – and when their tenth single went in at number 28, it was all over. By that point, only three years after I saw them on stage, Britpop had become mainstream business and there was no room left for mid-list underperformers. Surveying the landscape of the British music industry in the late 90s, Wener is understandably downbeat about how the movement worked out:

What happened to that battle? That slice of rock and roll sexual equality that we came for? It started with an attempt to level the playing field, but ended up in something altogether tamer and more dilute. You wake up one morning in the midst of the beer-swilling, coke-fuelled, self-important, macho parody that is Britpop's death rattle and say, haven't we been here before? Justine aping Christine Keeler on the cover of Select, Sonya Echobelly falling out of her shirt in i-D, Cerys Catatonia pouting half naked on the cover of a lads' mag, and how the hell did I end up being photographed in a wet-look PVC catsuit carrying a gun? I look ridiculous. Like sexy liquorice.

Wener is still married to Maclure – they have kids and live in a little terraced house in the suburbs. She sounds quite sanguine about the celebrity merry-go-round having left her behind – although, as she puts it: ‘the further pop life recedes into the distance, the more I think I didn't grab it and snog it nearly hard enough.’ Sleeper actually reformed last year for a few special gigs, so it's nice to think she managed to slip 'em the tongue a few more times, in the strange Britpop afterlife that this engaging book evokes so well. ( )

Actually quite readable and interesting insight into music biz and britpop ( )

Good stuff. The first, pre-fame half is only ok (I tend to read recollections of teen years with the indignation of the once-miserable teen - "you call that an uncomfortable/geeky/miserable adolescence, that's nothing let me tell you"), but it's entertaining enough and well told - the whole thing zips along at a great pace. I was obsessed with music too and she grew up not far from me, so I get a lot of what she's talking about, even if her 80s reference points are different to mine. For me the book really swings into life in the second half, where Sleeper get together and become part of the mid-90s Britpop party. Three remarkably decadent years later, it all comes to a crashing and abrupt end, and, as small fish in the Britpop pond, Sleeper are thrown out to die on the lawn by their management. It's a really enjoyable read - Wener is a good writer, and comes across as a grounded and ordinary person. As a light, fun read, loaded with nostalgia for the likes of me, this is tough to beat. If you liked Britpop enough to remember Sleeper & their fellows with great fondness, then I recommend this heartily. ( )

Very readable account of being fascinated by popular music and becoming a contender. Light, breezy and honest. ( )

Fairly interesting especially the early part of the book about adolescence - well captured on paper - never heard of 'Sleeper' but a little after my pop music years ( )