Manic Street Preachers - Album By Album: A Review

 

It would be no exaggeration to say that the Manic Street Preachers changed my life.  From galvanising my leftie views to encouraging me to seek out art and literature, they came crashing into my world when I was a hormonal teen and they still have permanent residence in my affections now that I’m a hormonal adult.

As a result, when I heard that Marc Burrows was releasing a book, charting the band’s career - with fourteen writers producing essays on each of the Manics’ albums - I was very much in.  I will consume basically anything featuring “my boys” and my plan was to write this review several months ago.  

Well, we all know what they say about the best laid plans, right…?!

Whilst books about the Manics are not an entirely new phenomenon, this one manages to tread old ground in a new, intriguing way.  It features a timeline between the band’s albums, tracking what the Manics were doing in the run up to - and following - each release.  For someone like me, this is utterly fascinating; I may like to tell myself that I have an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of my favourite band, but reading about their career in this format brings everything into even sharper focus and I find myself poring over every detail.  

We all know the story by now - four friends, bonded by a fierce intellect, a mutual love of music and pop culture and a desperate sense of claustrophobia in their small hometown in South Wales - formed a band and took on a post-punk glam aesthetic that made them stand out like sore thumbs against a backdrop of early 90’s grunge.  That fascinating combination of political fury, perfectly applied eyeliner, shirts spray-painted with slogans designed to speak to a similarly disenfranchised youth, plus the kind of guitar riffs that would make Slash weep, resulted in a cult following and - far from the “sell 16 million copies of our debut album and split up in a blaze of glory” hype - an illustriously long and celebrated music career.  But the timeline between the release of each album, slotted neatly before and after beautifully written, often poignant essays by fans of the band, tells that story in a way that feels somehow more tangible and, at notable points in the Manics’ history, incredibly raw.  

The essays that punctuate the release of each album throughout the book are a glorious snapshot of what the Manics mean to their fans, as well as provocative pieces that bring each record to life in such a visceral manner that you can almost hear the songs playing as you read.  Every single one is written with such passion and enthusiasm that by the end of each essay, not only did I want to luxuriate in whichever album I’d just been reading about - yes, including the ones I’d have lower down in my personal ranking - but I was filled with a deep desire to buy each writer a drink and sit with them, swapping gig anecdotes and chatting long into the night about this band that unites us, even when they manage to divide opinion.  In fact, I frequently found myself nodding frantically or chuckling softly as I read sentence after sentence that resonated perfectly with my own experiences of being a fan.  Call it tribalism if you will, but we are woven together by such delicate threads - having felt like an outsider as a teen, perhaps, or having had our feelings of anxiety and depression so eloquently expressed through lyrics - that reading some of the stories presented in the book could easily equate to reading an old diary entry.  “These,” I thought on several occasions as I made my way through the essays, “are my people.”

And this is my PLACE.

Anything written about the Manics is usually done so with several heaped spoonfuls of melodrama.  Theirs is a story of genuine triumph in the wake of tragedy and it’s easy to fall into the usual heartstring-tugging tropes as a result.  What is wonderful about this book is that by using a timeline of events - literally a day-by-day account of where the band were in the world and what they were doing - we are simply presented with the facts.  There is no need for flowery prose.  The actual truth of what the band went through in the loss of co-lyricist and mouth-piece Richey Edwards is laid bare in all its starkness and is actually all the more powerful for it.  The emotional language comes from the essays breaking up the timeline, when opinions step into the spotlight alongside the facts and deeply personal anecdotes are shared.  This very plain split between “this is precisely what happened” and “here’s how I feel about it as a fan” makes this book in many ways all the more moving than others on the subject.

The Manics are a band who’ve dipped their toes into various musical styles and whose career can be easily split into neat “stages.”  Similarly, the essays within the book run the gamut from fond recollections of youth, to searingly honest descriptions of individual traumas.  As is so often the case with anything to do with this particular band, you come away from reading the book with a heightened awareness of the importance of the Manic Street Preachers, not only as a cultural, musical touchstone, but as a powerful symbol to anyone who has ever felt alienated or despairing.  That the band released some of their most anthemic, dare I say joyous-sounding songs after the darkest period in their professional and personal lives is testament to their brilliance.  Anyone who says the Manics are “only for depressed people” have never known the thrill of singing yourself hoarse to A Design For Life whilst the confetti cannons go off all around you.  

The Manics always described themselves as a band that liked to contradict themselves and history certainly shows that to be true in the most wonderful way.  In a sense, this book and its journey through the band’s career, punctuated with fascinating stories and what can only be called love letters to each individual album, highlights their uncanny ability to adapt and change, whilst remaining stubbornly the same at heart.  It’s one of the reasons we love them.  And it’s one of the many reasons you should read this book.

Manic Street Preachers at the Genting Arena, Birmingham (14/5/2016)

Me in my Manics fan "uniform." ;-)

If there's one thing that should be relatively common knowledge to anyone who reads this blog on a regular basis, it's my deep and unending love for the Manic Street Preachers.  From the age of 16, they've been a constant in my life and I can't imagine my world without them.

So, on Saturday (14th May), I got all dolled up in my glitter, eyeliner, feather boa, tiara, homemade top and fairy wings and headed from my uncle's flat in Birmingham to the Genting Arena, along with my lovely gig buddy Kirstie, to see the band for the millionth fourteenth time.

Normal clothing is not required on gig days...

The band are currently touring in celebration of their classic 1996 album, Everything Must Go, which is now a whopping twenty years old (and I feel ancient).  The plan was to play the entire album in full, from start to finish, before pausing for a brief break prior to treating the audience to a short second set, packed with hits and the odd rarity.  As plans go, it was a pretty brilliant one, to be honest.

Everything Must Go is as close to perfection as any album I've had the pleasure of listening to.  It soars majestically along, with sweeping orchestral melodies and touching moments of poignancy in amongst the almost stubborn positivity of the album as a whole.  To hear every track played, one after the other, was an absolute treat for the ears.  The band were on top form, sounding like the tight unit we know them to be, and they looked the part, too - Nicky Wire showed off not one, not two, but three different jackets over the course of the show.  

The strangeness of hearing Design For Life second in the set (rather than being saved for the show-stopping finale) was overcome by the crowd's enthusiastic singalong and the promise of yet more goodies to follow.  Everything Must Go has always been an album that flows beautifully well and this translated into a live performance that never felt like it had gone off the boil, or left you wishing they'd play something else.  Songs such as Enola Alone and Further Away rocked the arena and left you wondering how on Earth the band even managed to choose singles from an album packed with so many gems.  James Dean Bradfield's gorgeous acoustic rendition of Small Black Flowers That Grow In The Sky was enough to bring a tear to your eye.  And when the bombastic guitar solo at the end of No Surface All Feeling kicked in and streamers shot into the sky and fell above the heads of the band's faithful fans, it was a moment of sheer euphoria.

Before the second set kicked in fully, James treated the audience to a short game of "Manic Street Preachers bingo," encouraging fans to shout out song suggestions for him to play on his acoustic guitar.  It's a testament to the level of devotion the fans have to this band, that many of the requests were for obscure b-sides and album tracks - this is a fandom that passionately devours anything the band produces.  In the end, James went for late 90s single, Tsunami.

There were a few unexpected little gems in the second "greatest hits" set; a cover of Fiction Factory's Feels Like Heaven and Natwest-Barclays-Midlands-Lloyds from the Manics' debut album, Generation Terrorists, were highlights.  In fact, the only thing I would suggest to further improve Manics' shows, would be to include more of these rarities.  After all, we're talking about a band who've recorded over ten albums, meaning they have literally hundreds of songs to choose from (especially when you include B-sides) when picking a set list.  As much as it's good that the band are aware that they have casual listeners in the audience who will be expecting the well-known singles, rather than obscure tracks they've never heard, it does sometimes feel like the Manics veer too closely on the side of caution.  Purely from a personal point of view, I wouldn't mind songs such as It's Not War (Just The End of Love) and Your Love Alone Is Not Enough being dropped to make way for some lesser played album tracks from the band's back catalogue.  There's still Design For Life, You Stole The Sun From My Heart and other such crowd-pleasing staples to placate the casual listeners with, after all.  Whilst songs like It's Not War... might have been commercial successes, the fans have heard them plenty of times, now.  I think it's time to mix the set list up a bit and throw in a few more surprises.

But that is a trivial moan about a gig that was full of energy, excitement and musical punch.  The Manics are still relevant, still brash and ever-so-slightly OTT, still musically fantastic and, as far as I'm concerned, still the best band on the bloody planet.  They get five out of five stars from me and they always will.  Shh, I'm allowed to be biased, it's my blog.  ;-)

If you get a chance to see them, go.

And if you've not had the chance to see the band live, don't fret; I made you a little vlog, so you can experience them for yourself:

Click, click, click, click, click.  Click yourself over (to YouTube).

I'll end this blog with a few more pictures from the gig.  Enjoy!

Ten Inspirational Manics Lyrics To Live Your Life By

Yes, you read that blog title correctly.  As a Manics fan, I get a bit tetchy when I'm told that my favourite band only write "depressing lyrics."  

I admit that tackling subjects such as the Holocaust, anorexia and the death penalty might not instantly mark the Manics out as a cheery band.  I also admit that you're never likely to get motivational posters being made out of some of their darker lines...

...But bear with me, on this.  Sometimes, Manics lyrics can be beautiful and - yes, believe it or not - inspiring,  And with that in mind, I'd like to share ten inspirational Manics lyrics to live your life by.  Admittedly, I may be interpreting my own meaning out of these words on some level, but isn't that what we're supposed to do with poetry?  Anyway, this is my way of proving that Manics lyrics aren't all doom and gloom...

1. "Who gives a shit about sexuality?" - Gold Against The Soul, taken from the album of the same name.  Lyrics by Richey Edwards & Nicky Wire.

Whatever the band were intending to say here, there's a very simple meaning we can take from it: what does it matter whether a person is gay, straight, bisexual, asexual or anything in between?  They're a person, just like you or me.  Let's not judge ourselves or anyone else on just one part of their life.

2. "I know I believe in nothing, but it is my nothing." - Faster, taken from the album, "The Holy Bible."  Lyrics by Richey Edwards.

It might sound a little strange to refer to a lyric about believing in nothing as being "inspirational," but in this case, it's less the lyric and more the intent behind it.  This is a man saying "look, don't judge me for not having the same views or beliefs as you.  What I believe - or don't believe - is up to me."  This is someone saying it doesn't matter if we go against the grain, as long as we're true to ourselves.  And that's pretty inspirational.

3. "Freed from the memory, escape from our history.  And I just hope that you can forgive us, but everything must go." - Everything Must Go, taken from the album of the same name.  Lyrics by Nicky Wire.

For me, this line has another very simple meaning: Live your life forwards, not backwards.  Don't solely focus on the things that have gone wrong over the years, just try to learn from them and then keep going, because the freedom you'll feel at letting go of the past can be incredible.  Sure, it's important to remember things that have happened and to treasure the memory of those we've lost, but we shouldn't cling to yesterday so hard that we miss out on today.  

4. "If you tolerate this, then your children will be next." - If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next, taken from the album "This Is My truth, Tell Me Yours."  Lyrics by Nicky Wire.

This may sound like an unusual choice of inspirational lyric, but again, it's about the meaning behind the song.  This is essentially the voice of someone saying "we have to do something," rather than sit idly by and watch terrible things happening all over the world.  It's a call to action - we need to be helping those who need it and acting against hate and atrocities, because it could just as easily be us who are in need and wouldn't we want someone to help us?

5. "You have broken through my armour and I don't have an answer.  I love you all the same." - You Stole The Sun From My Heart, taken from the album "This Is My Truth, Tell Me Yours."  Lyrics by Nicky Wire.

Being a bit of a soppy old romantic, for me this line really encapsulates the importance of letting someone in.  It can be scary, allowing someone to break down your defences and really get close to you, but to do so can be incredibly beautiful and deeply rewarding.

6. "Find your truth, face your truth, speak your truth and be your truth." - Judge Yr'self, penned for the Judge Dredd soundtrack.  Lyrics by Richey Edwards & Nicky Wire.

I like this a lot.  For me, this is simply about discovering who you really are and then being that person, unashamedly, without trying to fit in to whatever box society wants to put you in.  Again, I'm more than likely placing my own interpretation onto these words, but hey...

7. "Little things change people's lives." - Send Away The Tigers, taken from the album of the same name.  Lyrics by Nicky Wire.

It doesn't take much to do something for someone else.  And you never know how much of a difference it might make to their life, if you do.  Equally, we must remember to thank those people whose small actions have made a big difference to our lives.

8. "This world will not impose its will.  I will not give up and I will not give in." - Postcards From A Young Man, taken from the album of the same name.  Lyrics by Nicky Wire.

Someone once told me that they thought these lyrics were too "forceful."  But to me, they're about passionately following something you believe in, right until the end.  It's about refusing to give up on something you feel strongly about and it's about not allowing life to break you, even when things get tough.  These are the lyrics that I had tattooed on me, a year after leaving an abusive relationship, so they mean a great deal to me.

9. "And if we can, then we must hold our heads up, learn to trust.  It's up to you, it's up to us.  Some dignity, a little love." - Four Lonely Roads, taken from the album "Rewind The Film."  Lyrics by Nicky Wire.

This is pretty self-explanatory....  Keep your head up, be proud of who you are.  Show some love and allow others to see the real you.

10. "Isn't it lovely, when the dawn brings the dew, I'll be watching over you." - William's Last Words, taken from the album "Journal For Plague Lovers."  Lyrics by Richey Edwards (edited by Nicky Wire).

Okay, I'll admit I take some issue with the way that William's Last Words was edited.  Originally, the "lyrics" were more aptly described as a piece of prose, written from the viewpoint of a man who seemed to be retiring from his job.  It was heavily edited, with obvious reason (it was literally pages long and jumped around a lot), but in doing so, the meaning of the piece was changed.  It became a goodbye, seemingly from the viewpoint of a man who was either leaving or dying.  It's understandable that, having had no goodbye note from Richey (who disappeared in 1995 and was legally "presumed dead" in 2008) must have had a huge impact on those who loved him, but to edit his words into the goodbye he never wrote sits a little uncomfortably with me.  Perhaps, in amongst the prose, really was the goodbye he could never bring himself to say and Nicky simply found it and put the piece together, but the truth is that we'll never know what Richey really meant by William's Last Words.

That all said, I think this line is particularly beautiful.  I've chosen to include it  - and to end this list with it - because sadly, death will happen to us all, someday.  But to believe that we'll be watching over those we leave behind is a beautiful thing.  It inspires me, whether I 100% believe it or not, because I want it to be true.

So, there we have it.  I guess the point of this list was not only to prove that the Manics' lyrics aren't all doom and gloom, but to highlight that we can all find inspiration in the things we are passionate about, even if others can't quite see it.  These lyrics inspire me (as do many other Manics lyrics, not to mention lyrics from other bands/artists I love). 

 Feel free to share lyrics that inspire YOU in the comments!

Manic Street Preachers - Live at Camden Roundhouse 16/12/2014

HMS Manics is ready to set sail...

Back in September, I wrote a blog about why The Holy Bible by the Manic Street Preachers is, in my opinion, the greatest album of all time.  You can read it here if you haven't already (and you really should, purely to marvel at how many times I describe the album as "smacking me in the face").  On Tuesday 16th December, I squeezed into my sailor dress and headed to Camden Roundhouse to hear my beloved Manics play the album live in full.  To say I was excited is an understatement.  To say I was ridiculously emotional would be perfectly true.  To say I was dressed like a wally... Well, the picture speaks for itself.  And yes, I was wearing copious amounts of eyeliner and glitter.  I'm a Manics fan.

A Manics fan whose bad hair day meant I required a wig.

First things first, I have two things to say about the pre-gig experience.

1) Never drive to Camden and expect to be able to park.  Seriously, it's not worth the detrimental effect it's going to have on your blood pressure.  After hours of driving around side streets with "maximum stay 2 hours" signs dotted along them, I was ready to drive into the Roundhouse itself, smashing through the walls and landing in a crumpled heap in front of the stage.  I was in Urban Hell.  I wanted to destroy rock and roll venues.

2) Manics fans... Oh guys, time and again, you surprise me with just how awesome you are capable of being.  Many a frustrated word is written about fan elitism and how Manics fans don't talk to each other in the queue, because they're too focused on getting to the barrier at all costs.  Yes, there is fan elitism.  No, the people at the very front of the queue didn't have a single word to say to any of us.  But just a few places down, we found ourselves amongst the nicest people you could wish to meet.  People who brought newspapers for everyone to sit on, so our bums didn't freeze on the cold London streets.  People who shared chocolates and crisps with hungry fans who'd been standing around for hours.  People who rushed to get a copy of Time Out for everyone, because the Manics were featured in it (thank you Claudia!).  People who played Manics songs on their phones and encouraged everyone to sing along.  People who held our place in said queue for an hour whilst I had a breakdown trying to find somewhere to bloody park (still not over that, Camden Town Council...).  I've had some bad experiences with Manics fans, I'm not going to lie.  But Tuesday was a great one and right now, I'm bloody proud to be a part of such a warm, welcoming community.  Stay beautiful, guys and girls.

Okay, onto the gig...

Having fast-walked through the arena and crash-landed against the barrier in a joyous display of relief (I always panic that I won't make the barrier and my stupid asthma will mean I have to stand at the side so I don't stop breathing in the crowd), I was able to finally take in my surroundings.  In a nod to their original 1994 Holy Bible tour, the band had decked the stage with dark green, military netting.  It was instantly urgent and yet nostalgic.  Now and then.  Music was piped into the venue courtesy of a DJ.  The night we were there, it was the same guy who DJ'd for the band at the legendary Astoria gigs (the band's final performances with Richey Edwards) almost 20 years ago to the day.  Although that fact provided a nice sense of symmetry and added to the emotional weight of the evening, I can't say having a DJ play a set was that much preferable (if at all) to having a support band, although I can see why the band chose to do things that way.  Kirstie (my gorgeous gig buddy) and I were hoping the DJ would further invoke a sense of nostalgia by playing the kind of stuff he might have done back in '94.  We were hoping for some Suede, maybe The Smiths or The Clash...  Instead, I can't really explain what we got, but it was loud and long.  It didn't really set the pulse racing.

What did set my pulse racing was when the lights finally dimmed, the stage was illuminated with a ferocious red light and we heard the Chemical Brothers' remix of Faster.  The band were on their way.  We were about to witness something spectacular...

And I don't *just* mean the sight of Bradders dressed as a sailor...

As mentioned at the top of this blog, one thing I passionately love about The Holy Bible as an album is that it's not something you can passively listen to.  It grabs you.  It smacks you around the head a few times until you give in to it.  So it was fitting that the Manics seemed to literally tear into Yes at the start of this anniversary showcase.  The soundbite quote from the beginning of the song was played loud over the PA system and James Dean Bradfield's twangy guitar riff had never sounded more urgent.

There was little time to catch your breath afterwards before the band launched into IfWhiteAmericaToldTheTruthForOneDayItsWorldWouldFallApart - a song whose lyrics JDB spat with an intensity that belied the "Christmas bug" he announced he'd been suffering from the night before.

There was little communication from the band during the Holy Bible set, besides a few quips from Wire and a little background info to one or two songs.  It was more important to let the music do the talking, however much of a cliche that may sound.  Here was a band playing their lost lyricist's masterpiece in full for an audience who knew every word and rejoiced in shrieking them back at the stage.

For an album recorded twenty years ago and considered by some to be bleak and inaccessible, The Holy Bible, played in full from start to finish, sounded fresh, vital and as relevant today as it ever has been.  The band played the set as a three-piece, with no additional musicians on stage, which felt right.  The space Richey once occupied remained empty, save for the few times when James wandered over during some of the incredible guitar solos he's famous for.  When the singer told the audience that it was "more important than ever" to remember Richey during these gigs, the crowd went wild.  The cheering that ensued for the band's missing mouthpiece lasted for several minutes, with James encouraging everyone: "Come on!  Fucking MORE!"  

It's hard to say what it meant to me, hearing the album that changed my life played live in full.  Yes, it smacked me in around the head just as much as The Holy Bible always does, but it felt exhilarating, angry and deeply, deeply poignant.

During This Is Yesterday - the song that always makes me cry when played live - it was hard not to focus on that empty part of the stage and wonder what became of the beautiful,ferociously intelligent, but troubled man who once occupied it.  After all, this album will forever be entwined with Richey Edwards and it was largely his words we were passionately singing along to.

And yet the evening never descended into doom and gloom.  Here were a band who had experienced huge triumph alongside enormous loss and it showed.  The set - dark, angry and poignant though it was - was played with such a burning enthusiasm that even a song like Die In The Summertime, with lyrics that nobody in their right mind could call "chirpy," sounded fiery and passionate, rather than depressing or morbid.

For me, a highlight was The Intense Humming of Evil.  A song that sounds so industrial and stark, I sometimes used to skip it when listening to The Holy Bible at night, when it was dark.  The song was eerie, it was frightening and played live, it was bloody fantastic.  That guitar solo at the end was worth the ticket price alone.

As was the close proximity of the guy playing it...  

I often joke to myself that if I'm going to listen to The Holy Bible, I can't listen to anything else afterwards, because nothing can top it (besides going straight from that to Everything Must Go for the sheer poignancy of it).  So it was understandable that the band had a bit of a breather between the final throes of PCP and the beginning of the second half of the show.

On their return, James looked rather dashing in a suit and he treated the crowd to an acoustic rendition of Anthem For A Lost Cause, from the band's Rewind The Film album.

Michael Buble eat your heart out...

What followed was the inevitable Greatest Hits style set, with tracks like You Stole The Sun From My Heart and Motorcycle Emptiness being thrown out for not only the fans, but any casual listeners who might have been dragged along for the night.  But it didn't really matter what the band played (although playing 1993 B-side Donkeys was amazing!).  We'd already had our minds blown with The Holy Bible.  Or, to rephrase:  We came for The Holy Bible.  We stayed for Design For Life.

That's not to say I didn't love the second set.  They played amazingly, Nicky looked glamorous, I sang my heart out and, as with all Manics gigs, I didn't want it to end.  But for me - and I suspect for most fans - this tour was never about the second set, however good it was.  It was about those first thirteen songs, played one after the other in a blissful orgy of rage and triumphalism.

By showcasing an album that's twenty years old, some bands could be said to be too busy looking back and not thinking about the future.  But the Manics proved this year, with their incredible album Futurology, that they are continually moving forward and finding new ground.  This wasn't about a band stuck in the past.  This was about giving the past the respect it deserves.  This was a band proving that twenty years later, they can still be as energised, raw and exciting as ever.

This was a band cementing themselves in my heart forever.  To James, Nicky, Sean and of course Richey... Thank you.