aaamusic | On 25, Jan 2011

London, 22nd January

By this point in time, you, dear reader, should know who Manic Street Preachers are. They’re one of those bands, who everyone’s heard of but only music fans have listened to  their music, whether they like them or not. In many ways this is a blessing and a curse for a band; on the one hand they have exposure on a national level, indeed this country is one of the only places in the world the Manics are at a national level in, on the other, they don’t have the ubiquity of vastly inferior bands like Oasis or Coldplay, similarly aware of by everyone and embraced by the non-music loving masses looking for something inoffensive to bop along to in some sort of hatchback motor vehicle. Now bear with me here because this is where it gets complicated. We’re talking about a British alternative rock group, that much is true, but the Manics are nothing if not a bunch of contradictory old buggers.

You see, that kind of ubiquity is precisely what they want. And they have never made any bones about it; this is a band that sang about the works of Camus and the exploitation of Black musicians in the music industry whilst appearing on any Saturday morning kids’ show that would have them, that talked of releasing one sixteen million selling double album, headlining Wembley three nights running and then spontaneously combusting on Top Of The Pops. Needless to say that didn’t happen, because here they are twenty years after talking a heroic amount of bollocks, playing at the best venue in London, having never once sacrificed their artistic integrity in the face of record company pressure to any meaningful degree, after hardships that would flatten lesser bands, having a critical resurgence most bands would sacrifice their rhythm section for, and all the while looking utterly incredible while their at it.

After a stirring set by openers British Sea Power, the Manics take to the stage at 9.15 sharp, Singer/guitarist James Dean Bradfield immediately earning his keep by launching into the seven fingered riff of Generation Terrorists album opener Slash ‘n’ Burn and bassist/glamourpuss Nicky Wire earning his by leaping into the air with a scissor kick that I still can’t pull off and the guy’s 42. I’d be apoplectic with jealousy if the music wasn’t so fucking good. The pit kicks off and the relief in the room is palpable, these gigs have been a long time coming, after James being diagnosed with Laryngitis forced tonight and last night to be cancelled in October, when the original dates were scheduled for. Talking with assorted die hard fans in the venue, some were already queuing for the October gigs when the news broke, and the Manics know this, continually through the night James thanks the crowd for their patience, and repays them in kind.

One of the best things about the Manics is how much they cater for their hardcore fans during their live shows, whilst this contains the immortal likes of Motorcycle Emptiness and earth shaking closer A Design For Life, it’s the lesser spotted likes of This Is My Truth, Tell Me Yours album track My Little Empire that captivates the leopard print clad, eyeliner swabbed hordes most likely to be found camped in front of Nicky for the night, and Journal For Plague Lovers highlight Me And Steven Hawking goes down a treat but moment of the night goes to an acoustic version of You Stole The Sun From My Heart, unfairly derided  as an example of them mellowing in middle age, it’s turned into a deafening, shout-from-the-rooftops hymn that can only leave a thunderstruck Bradfield watching as the entire venue takes over for the second chorus. It’s quite a sight, and a stirring example of just how much the Manics mean to their fans.

In all, for a band that was at first written off as a bunch of hero worshipping fanboys at best and a record label creation at worst, the childhood friends from Blackwood, Wales have come a long way to becoming one of the countries greatest Rock and Roll bands. And as Bradfield signs the night off with heartfelt thanks from the unseen, unheard presence in the room, ex-lyricist and guitarist Richey James Edwards, we feel a collective sense of relief that this band didn’t go the route of Oasis and Coldplay, never did play stadiums on a regular basis, never did lose touch with what made them great in the first place, and while that may not be the ambition of the 20 year old Manic Street Preachers, then it has worked out in the greatest way possible for their fans, and one gets the feeling that that is the most important thing for them.

Author: Will Howard