Overweight and Out of Date? 30 Years Ago, The Manic Street Preachers Escaped From Their History With Everything Must Go

Two months ago I was out having a drink in London. And someone says to me, ‘How can you be out having a drink?’ I say, ‘What the fuck are you on about?’ He says, ‘If I was you I’d be in my room chopping myself up by proxy for Richey.’ People think they know how they’d react if they were his friend. But I don’t feel that I’d been Richey’s friend at that point, because you didn’t have a clue what had happened at all. There were no equation.

JDB to the NME 1996/05/11

THE PURE MOTIVE

It’s an origin story that now seems as notorious and as recognisable as Bruce Wayne’s parents being gunned down in Crime Alley. Yaddayaddayadda, eve of American tour, yaddayaddayadda, Vauxhall Cavalier found parked on Severn Bridge, yaddayaddayadda, not seen since February 1st 1995. And if I were to map out the disappearance of Richey Edwards (the band’s co-lyricist, Minister of Propaganda, and “guitarist”) here again in detail you’d probably let out a groan at the waste of time similar to that you’d release were the next Batman film to feature of yet another scene explaining what happened to Thomas and Martha. Also, I don’t want to victim blame, Mr and Mrs Wayne, but ‘Crime Alley’? What did you think was going to happen?

The band would be forced to deal with the emotional devastation of the never solved disappearance of its central member and the members’ childhood friend for the rest of their career. Though, even by the point of that missed flight to the US, Richey Edwards had long been taken from them. ‘The Cult of Richey’ may not have been named as such yet (and, as far as I can tell, may well have first been coined by Manics bassist Nicky Wire to refer to the hysteria around Richey’s disappearance in 1996), but it really began to form following Richey’s hospitalisation just before the release of ‘The Holy Bible‘. And then that album was released – with its largely Richey-penned lyrics that perfectly chronicled the overwhelming power of everything on our fragile and sensitive souls – and it was like, no, he’s ours now, you can’t have him. Even before Richey’s disappearance, fans would write into NME and Melody Maker expressing how deeply they understood his condition. Even suggesting that, maybe, only they know how to save him? And what was all Richey’s self-harm and self-destruction if not our saviour offering up his own sacrifices to atone for our sins??

The problem with being as talented as any artist in history at giving voice to the inner torments of humanity, is that people are going to start believing in real parasocial connections. How could they describe my feelings so well if we weren’t already so close??

But the problem with artists is that they have an infinitely frustrating tendency to move on and evolve far quicker than their audience.

ALL YOU SEE IS MORE AND MORE JUNK

36 Tame Impala: Deadbeat

Dude, mate, bro: did you know that Tame Impala was just one guy? And he’s Australian? Mind: blown, right? Wait until I tell you who’s the brother of Big Mo from Eastenders.

Mate (maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate!), is that your daughter on the cover?? No. Don’t like it. That feels creepy and wrong, and brings in all sorts of questions of ethical consent. But now that’s dealt with, I’m not sure I can think of any other reason to dislike this album. It’s perhaps no way near as expansive, trend-shitting or potentially influential as his (it’s just one guy!) previous work, but it’s still an incredibly strong collection of brilliant electro pop with melodies to absolutely die for.

Do you want my love? Is it obsolete?

#34 Taylor Swift: The Tortured Poets Department

To be clear: the 33rd scientifically proven, objective best album of the year is the sixteen track, sixty three minute original release of the album. That’s already way to the upper limits of how much Jack Antonoff any one human can ever hope to consume in one setting. If you’re here for the thirty one track two fucking hours ‘Anthology’ edition of this album, then I’m sorry, you are insane and I don’t know how you can do that to yourself.

I am also not going to count the 234 different editions of this fucking album that Taylor released in 2024, making sure that she greedily fleeced one of music’s most obsessive fanbases for every last penny they have. Oh! This just in! Taylor has apparently released a new version of the album called ‘The Tortured Poets Department: Capitalism’s Necessary Evil?’, which includes an extra fourteen seconds tagged onto the end of But Daddy I Love Him where Taylor just absolutely lets rip with a huge fart right into the microphone. Some people have accused Taylor of attempting to cynically manipulate the Necessary Evil 2024 countdown in the same way they’ve been manipulating sales figures and charts all year with these unlimited reissues. Well it won’t work, Swifto! I am way to savvy to be manipulated by these hideously manipulative schemes! And anyway, I can’t really afford to after spending more than a hundred quid on the Manic Street Preacher’s January album release. They do it because they appreciate our support!

Ziad Tareq Ziad a-Rifi

Love Their Mess and Adore Their Failures: Manic Street Preachers’ 100 Greatest Songs

Right, holy shit, so am I actually doing this…?

“Repeat after me…”

The Manic Street Preachers are the greatest rock band ever. That’s not an opinion, it’s a conclusion that I’ve reached and am now saying it loudly and not listening to any dissenting voices, which in 2021 counts as a ‘fact’.

Their greatness is… complicated… and not easy to explain in a simple intro to a blog post… These 100 tracks aren’t necessarily the greatest songs ever. Even as a pathetically dedicated Manics stan*, even I would argue that they’ve only ever released one indisputable, stone cold classic record from front to back (see if you can guess which one after you read the list!). They may have supernatural control over melodies and how best to ensure a chorus hits just there, but at the end of the day they’re just a rock band. They have never really challenged the very boundaries of music, never pushed things forward or necessarily introduced anything new sonically. I would argue that only one of their albums is truly challenging and experimental, rather than just being a break from what the band usually produce (yeah, it’s the same album…). I mean, Jesus, they once shamelessly released a song including the lyric “The world is full of refugees/They’re just like you and just like me“. That’s unforgivably bad, isn’t it? They can’t come back from that, artistically.

“You stand there and you think about what you’ve done”

(*I may occasionally use cool, groovy, young person lingo like ‘stan’ so you think I’m a hip young gunslinger. Not, y’know, old enough to be a Manics fan)

I’m not able to explain their magic here, but over the next one hundred (!) entries you’ll hopefully all have a better idea. It’s not as dominated by the 90’s as I was worried it might be, and every album is represented (apart from one. Because their tenth album is worse than Hitler). I’ve been wanting to find the time to do this for ages, partially inspired by the great What is Music podcast covering their entire discography and reminding me of how many big veiny stonkers this band had bulging out of their collective musical swimming trunks. They’re talking about Muse on that podcast now, a band for morons, so you only need to listen to the last season. My major blind spot is I don’t think they’ve done a decent b-side since 2001. Now, I’m sure I’m wrong, so please correct my ignorance in the comments. Tell me how wrong I am. Post your top tens. Your top hundreds. The Manic Street Preachers’ fan community is one of the greatest in the world, and no other band are as connected with their fanbase and feed off their adoration as much as The Manics. So let’s celebrate that by calling me a fat slut in the comments because I didn’t choose Little Baby Nothing.

If you don’t have time for such nonsense, here’s the Spotify playlist and here’s all the songs in order on YouTube.

And, er, you might wanna bookmark this page – motherfucker’s gonna be long. Your next 500 trips to the toilet are sorted.

Continue reading “Love Their Mess and Adore Their Failures: Manic Street Preachers’ 100 Greatest Songs”

6 Fever Ray: Plunge

I Decided to Love Her.

but She Didn’t Make it Easy

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Sometimes I envy NME. And The Guardian. And Pitchfork. And Melody Maker. And Q Magazine. And the Manchester Evening News. And Rolling Stones. I envy The Roling Stone’s money, but I don’t envy being them, as that would mean losing 50 years of my life and a complete morality lobotomy. And Crack Magazine.

How many others are there…?

And Kerrang. And the Telegraph And NME. I said that one, didn’t I? I envy it twice. And Mojo. And Uncut. And Mixmag.

I envy all these vessels of music journalism- to different degrees and holding it to varying degrees of importance- because, I don’t know if you ever noticed, but they manage to get their albums of the year list out at the actual end of the year!!

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(Falling)

How do they do that?? I mean, even if Mojo is in a terrible place mentally, and is considering if it’s really worthwhile writing anything anymore, it still manages to garner up the motivation to try and and convince us that David Bowie’s ‘Blackstar’ was the best album of 2016 (nonsense, I have the science to prove it was actually 27th) on December 11th!! I didn’t even get around to explaining the truth until October 30th 2017!!

Continue reading “6 Fever Ray: Plunge”