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”

Rumble in the Bumble pt.4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

I know I promised that I wasn’t going to do another one of these until next week, but over the period of about nine hours yesterday Bumble dragged me on a roller coaster of emotions, potential and of reaching ridiculously over my limits as a physically attractive entity*. I have to assume that you’ve all read Shawn Michaels’s esteemed memoir ‘Heartbreak and Triumph’? Well, that could well be the title of this episode of my delve into the grottiness of online dating. Except that there was very little triumph involved. ‘Heartbreak and Heartbreak’ might work a little better. Except that repeated word is a little functionally unnecessary, isn’t it? Yeah, the book of yesterday on Bumble would be called ‘Heartbreak’. Do you see where this is going?

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(* though… maybe… really below… my mental attractiveness…? I don’t want to be cruel… Well… maybe I do, just a little, but as will soon become brutally clear I really need to claw back some self-respect out of this hideous situation)

What’s that? You think I’m far too obsessed with wrestling? Really?? Let’s see if that comes into play.

Continue reading “Rumble in the Bumble pt.4”

51 Hinds: I Don’t Run

“Sometimes I see myself and I can’t stand my show/Because I wanna be somebody new/Because I wanna be somebody new for you”

The best relationships you have, the ones that are closest to actual love, are the ones that make you realise that you’re perhaps not quite good enough and inspire you to improve yourself in some way. Men or women, of course, shouldn’t have to do anything to impress any man or woman, but the very best relationships should make you want to be a better person and inspire you to self-improvement.

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I’m not talking about dumb physical alteration, like those high heels that render you in constant agony so every gross man who looks at you can picture you consenting to sex, or the black sable mitt ferret I keep down my pants on nights out so chicks can see I’ve got freaking animal down there… which… yeah… also hurts a bit. No person should feel forced into any uncomfortable or unsuitable dress or position by society, because society sucks! However, if you hear the guy you like the look off has a thing for women wearing Rey Myserio jr masks, then by all means wear a Rey Mysterio mask to work on Monday! You’re not trying to get the attention of the gross male populace, you’re just trying to get the attention of Colin from the warehouse! Which is a bit weird, but it’s your weird and you shouldn’t…!

Actually, Emily, you should probably stay away, you do know he spent time in jail for cutting the tails off local cows? No, I know, it’s hardly murder, I’m just saying it’s a bit weird, don’t you think? And the fact he lost both his arms in ‘Nam..

No, Emily, you’re right, I shouldn’t be body shaming, I just think you have to really question how exactly he cut those cows’ tails off without arms. And he says he lost them in Vietnam?? Emily, he was in the year below me at Tintwhistle Primary, if he went to Vietnam I really would have noticed…

Fuck, where was I?

Continue reading “51 Hinds: I Don’t Run”