Manic Street Preachers live in Melbourne (2010): review

Venue/date: The Forum, 20/11/10

Among the Metallica shirt-wearing punters filling the streets this Saturday evening, occasional glimpses of glam-attired bodies appear, all en route to the Forum. Tonight it's Christmas for the freaks of Melbourne and their long-awaited gift awaits them at the iconic venue. Long before the our early pressie - the Manic Street Preachers - arrival, fans gather and buzz about all things Manics, including rumours about poor attendances in Adelaide and unresponsive audiences in Sydney. In a flash, there's a collective unspoken 'decision' in people's faces that the band won't receive that same reaction here tonight. Eleven years have passed since the Welsh former glam-punks have played in Australia. At the time they were promoting their fifth album This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours, which still features heavily in their set, but fans of their edgier, earlier work were in for more of a blast than probably expected tonight.



The wait during support act Dead Actor's Club was unbearable for some and the Welsh flags began appearing, held aloft, early in the Melbourne band's set. Dead Actor's Club played a ripping electro-infused rock show, and definitely didn't outstay their welcome, but to my ears they can proudly claim the worst matched support to main combo I've seen. Think Regurgitator meets Short Stack, and your close. Following a lively intermission in which copious hardcore fans took the time to meet one another, each brimming with the same feeling as the next, we are suddenly joined by a huge portrait of Tim Roth filling the back drop. This image which announced itself recently as the cover of the Manics new album, Postcards From A Young Man receives a stars welcome.



From the pit, the noise is deafening as fans erupt to the sight of the Manics who are now in our midst; James Dean Bradfield looking robust and muscular as hell, Sean Moore's in his all black military regalia, and Nicky Wire's keeping the cartoon-glam flag flying with his collection of feather boa's extending even to his mic stand. The set kicks off with You Love Us, as every Manics' gig has since their debut, and rolls on blending the new with very old alternately. Regardless of age (of song or fan), the faithful here tonight know every single word and sing back to the band with fierce enthusiasm. The occasional shouts for fan favourites are ignored however, as they rip through a best of, of sorts which easily covers their entire catalogue of work. There are a few rarely played indulgences – This Is Yesterday, Australia, Motown Junk - but mostly it's the songs no Manics gig could do without – Motorcycle Emptiness, A Design For Life, If You Tolerate This... Muscling onto that list is sure to be this year's come-back single, It's Not War (Just The End Of Love), which although musically similar to Smashing Pumpkins' Tonight Tonight, already feels like classic Manics.



The show seems to gallop along at break-neck speed with each anthemic punk song following another, but James, who can barely be heard over his adoring fans, decides to show-off his awesome voice and sends his cohorts away for an acoustic interlude. Here's where the personal fanboy moment arrives, as James and I, strangely (for me), maintain eye contact for nearly all of Ocean Spray and sing it together. This gentle moment among the storm is over fast and before the second acoustic number, Everlasting, is finished James steps away from his mic and lets the packed Forum take it to the end for him. He seems genuinely thrilled by the response and, as Sean and Nicky return to the stage, our reward is the monstrous Faster. In his absence, Nicky's slipped into something more comfortable – a mini-skirt, paired with sailor's hat and jacket. He yells into his mic, "In Sydney, they thought I looked ridiculous... But what the fuck do they know about fashion!" Cheers all around, and Melbourne's Manics fans collectively shower Nicky with wolf-whistling approval.



It's rare to see the band's true firebrand – Nicky – disarmed, but lumps were in throats all around as he took a moment to describe the ongoing loss he feels for long-lost Manic, Richey Edwards. Wire and Edwards' shared a writing partnership within the band and bonded over their bodies failings – both were frequently ill – and so we all shouted extra hard for Nicky during No Surface, All Feeling, a dedication to his lost bro. It's a fact that the Manics never, ever do encores, so the momentum as they plough towards the finish, only spirals up and up. They beef up the stirring, usually mid-tempo Tsunami for the live set, before roaring through a vital-as-fuck Design For Life. Hands raise, stomping commences, and hysterical screams fill the air, but we all know it's in vain once the guys exit the stage with a final wave and a bow. Maybe Sydney and Adelaide didn't exactly pull out the red carpet for the Manics on this tour, but from where I stood, Melbourne had a fresh rug made, poured them a glass of bubbly and insisted they stay the night. If our unspoken mission to butter them up into coming back before another eleven years pass works, only time will tell.



lEIGh5

MELBOURNE SETLIST:

YOU LOVE US

YOU'RE LOVE ALONE IS NOT ENOUGH

MOTORCYCLE EMPTINESS

IT'S NOT WAR (JUST THE END OF LOVE)

ROSES IN THE HOSPITAL

AUSTRALIA

THIS IS YESTERDAY

EVERYTHING MUST GO

SOME KIND OF NOTHINGNESS

YOU STOLE THE SUN FROM MY HEART

OCEAN SPRAY

THE EVERLASTING

FASTER

NO SURFACE ALL FEELING

LA TRISTESSA DURERA

SUICIDE IS PAINLESS

MOTOWN JUNK

IF YOU TOLERATE THIS YOUR CHILDREN WILL BE NEXT

GOLDEN PLATITUDES

TSUNAMI

A DESIGN FOR LIFE

Meeting Nicky Wire... (aaahh!!)

 all pics by Fruitbat.

Manic Street Preachers - Postcards From A Young Man (review)

MANIC STREET PREACHERS

Postcards From A Young Man

(Sony)

Before its release even, the latest Manic Street Preachers album was heralded with a kind of surrender entirely out of character with the band; "Last Chance To Get Our Message Out There" was the cry from within – and what could that possibly mean for an act eleven albums old, and seemingly cursed and weighed down by misfortune and unpopular viewpoints? Were they surrendering or posing a threat? If they truly are considering a break-up, their detractors can at last say 'saw that coming years ago', but this possible last chapter in the Manics story will in no way be a bitter one for fans, who can comfortably celebrate Postcards... as one of the band's strongest albums in their 24 year career.



The Manics have survived against some pretty big odds all along. Missing-presumed-dead members, songs built around socialist meanderings and obscure literary references, (surely enough to drive many a  rock fan away?) but mostly a lack of broad, consistent interest. The Manics could easily be saddled with a 'glory or death' tag, but their refusal to be defeated even in some pretty glory-free times means either incredible unity within their ranks or sheer stubbornness has kept their fire burning. Which ever is true, I'd back them over a frothing Beta Band, a rearing Catatonia or a six-legged Super Furry Animal any day.



The Welsh trio have remained largely unchanged musically since first injecting their melancholy punk anthems with a little stadium pomp on 1996 classic, Everything Must Go, but subsequent releases often struggled to match that album's rich offerings. All but the hardcores probably shrugged at the band's post millennium releases, which up until last year's outstanding Journal For Plague Lovers, were met with little acclaim, but Postcards From A Young Man is a vital sounding push to the front of a once disappearing line, and the sound of a band mad at themselves for resting too long on their laurels.



All of the regulation MSP fare is still present in 2010; the history book rifling, communist values, Britain in crisis etc… but these touchstones are delivered on Postcards without any of the awkwardness of the sometimes over-wordy early records. Confidence reigns and, although orchestras and choirs feature throughout this album, a lot of the excess fat found on such releases as 2000's Know Your Enemy, for example has been shed. You can almost hear the conversation between Bradfield, Wire and Moore as they embarked on their 'last chance' effort, which probably concluded with a remark close to 'never mind the bollocks, let's just make the album we've always wanted to'. Whatever thoughts they indeed had, this band knows its true strengths and unabashedly plunders them for all they're worth. The title track for starters is almost a cobbling together of the 'old' and the 'new' Manics' sound, acting as an awareness-metre of how much they have grown musically over 24 years. It also tidily announces the album's concept - the artist's present selves weighing up the value of progress against their past selves' quaint existences.



Being a Manics record, of course they're cranky about mindless consumption over elementary pursuits - and they've never written more clearly on the subject. Take A Billion Balconies Facing The Sun for example – guest bassist Duff McKagan (ex-Guns 'N' Roses) adds some fat 'n' heavy licks to Bradfield's no-nonsense rail against online bullying. It's worth noting that McKagan's presence, along with other guests Ian McCulloch (Echo & The Bunnymen) and John Cale, is down to a few Manics' childhood dreams being fulfilled. If you'd ever wondered who they count among their heroes, (Stephen Hawking was busy), there's the top three. Ian McCulloch's duet on Some Kind Of Nothingness – actually the dark twin of Kylie Minogue's Some Kind Of Bliss, which the Manics wrote for her - is celebratory, but one of the less impressive moments overall, in spite of the tricked out full choir backing. Cale meanwhile is more impressive on the Radiohead-esque, Auto-Intoxication, adding keys and 'non-descript noise' to this track about being slaves to the world wide web.



The album's powerful rock 'n' prose single, Its Not War (Just The End Of Love) – a paean to the media-driven divide between East and West - and All We Make Is Entertainment are probably the ripest fruits on offer overall. But following run of (what would be) easy choice singles - take your pick of Hazelton Avenue, Golden Platitudes, The Descent - the album hits you with a kicker of a finale - the beautifully titled Don't Be Evil, which makes me want to praise and damn them for the same reasons. There they go, being all articulate and irritatingly correct about lost humility through online social networking, the old grumps. But damn them if they aren't right on the money with this, and damned if any band's who've actually  sprung up in the internet age could nail this topic so accurately and awesomely as the Manics have. Not satisfied with this triumph alone, it also happens to be one of the best rock songs of the year.



Yes, there is a vague, unsurprising concept running through Postcards From A Young Man, but it never feels whiny or self-important. As much as it is an album concerned with our increasing reliance on the virtual/digital world, it equally mourns the lost art of tactile communication and by proxy, the band themselves have whole heart-idly reconnected with their audience.

lEIGh5

"Postcards From A Young Man" video.

Sean Moore (Manic Street Preachers) interview (2010)

COMBAT ROCK

Manic Street Preachers could've been willfully obscure as their often confronting topics are on Postcards From A Young Man – their tenth album in 24 years. Yet their cold-hard tales of degenerative diseases, sold-out Britain and virtual-world obsession are instead served up with some sweet cock-rock riffing, big choruses and an orchestra. Initially these Welsh communist glam-punks were a reaction to mindless stadium rock – and not much has changed in that regard – but what better way to mock your enemy than to become them - with a knowing wink? Their strength has always lied in their understanding of the importance art plays in critiquing humanity, yet they are also a rock band and nowhere near as "Preachy" as the name might suggest. Instead these childhood friends, James Dean Bradfield, Nicky Wire and Sean Moore, now in their 40s, continue forging a quiet battle against accepting the status quo.

Promotion of their latest album has been unusually high for the Manics, as their loyal fanbase like to call them. Their post-millennium releases have suffered largely from growing indifference, but it seems they are determined that Postcards From A Young Man won't suffer the same fate. It's been 11 years since the trio toured Australia, so anticipation is high, but as I chat to the Manic's drummer/trumpet/player-cum-co-writer Sean Moore, it becomes clear anticipation for him can be a killer. Backstage at the BBC, pre-warm up for the Manic Street Preachers' appearance on Later With Jools Holland, Moore whispers, "It's Holland's 250th show, so it's supposedly going to be a big one." He begins, while drawing a sharp breath, "I just saw Phil Collins in the hall and The Klaxons are here…" He pauses as there's a knock on his dressing room door. "I better get that… It's okay, it's only my breakfast." Moore doesn't like doing live TV, and the arrival of his first meal of the day is a greater relief than usual. "Sorry, I was expecting to be hauled out to do rehearsal then," he says with a nervous laugh. "I do find live television extremely nerve-racking. I've never been able to just slip into 'performer-Sean' mode. I'm always teetering on edge, and it either goes one way or the other. Hopefully we won't fall off on this occasion though."





As it's a landmark show for Jools Holland, he's pulled out all the stops and employed a full choir and string section to back the Manics. The new album is a heavily layered set, bursting with anthemic numbers and devoid of introspection. It has been described by the group's bassist and writer Nicky Wire as "their last shot at getting on the radio" following a lacklustre response to the group's previous three albums. The Manics have never sat easily on radio playlists; If You Tolerate This, Your Children Will Be Next was as close to radio-friendly as they came, and so a battle plan was drawn up to get their message out to as many listeners as possible by dressing up their already solid tunes, and calling in some help from their peers. "We asked Ian McCulloch, John Cale and Duff McKagan to play on the album because we're fulfilling a lot of our boyhood dreams this time around," Sean states. "Echo & The Bunnymen was the first gig we all went to see, and my first album was Porcupine,」 he says, brightening up. Arguably, the antithesis of the Manics on their angsty debut was big, dumb, misogyny-peddling Guns 'N' Roses, which makes the appearance of ex-Gunner's bassist Duff McKagan on A Billion Balconies Facing The Sun seem all the more strange. Sean continues.



"In a way, you're right, but at the same time Guns 'N' Roses introduced James and Richey to rock music," he reasons. "Whereas Nick was more into Rush, for me AC/DC is about as heavy as it gets." He laughs. "We met Duff when he presented us with an award and we reciprocated our appreciation by asking him to play bass on one of our songs. Turns out he's right into what we do as well, surprisingly." Ian McCulloch duet-ing, John Cale playing piano and a Gunner could all easily be seen as unduly ambitious, but the album was designed to be a sharp turn away from 2009's Journal For Plague Lovers and its bleak outpourings. Comparing the recording of Postcards… with Journal For Plague Lovers, Sean is very clear. "This album and Journal For Plague Lovers are basically Jekyll and Hyde," he confirms. "Recording Postcards… was quite easy by comparison. We had our objective and we stayed put until that was seen through, whereas Plague Lovers was a collection of Richey's old lyrics that we built music around and it became a kind of Holy Bible part 2." In 2008, an official verdict of 'deceased' was finally reached after the 1995 disappearance of Richey Edwards, the Manic's troubled guitarist/writer. His gut-wrenching lyrics and biting commentary were always a driving point in the band and one that main songwriter Nicky Wire has remained inspired by. The last album Edwards' made with the band - 1994's The Holy Bible - was also their most disturbing and confronting, both lyrically and musically. The latest release, much like Holy Bible, is the second to follow a Richey-penned record. Sean discusses.



"We were quite aware of following up that album with something much brighter, as we did (follow-up The Holy Bible) with Everything Must Go (in 1996). We did two or three albums of that nature – heavy, Richey albums - but you just can't do that every time. If we did, I don't think I'd be speaking to you now," Sean says ominously. "The record-buying public don't want to hear that, and we have always said that we want to be heard by as many people as possible because we feel we have something worthwhile to say." Reactions to Manic Street Preachers entire canon of work are, in many ways, typical. There are those who yell 'sell-out' at anything but the band's purest angst period – Generation Terrorists, The Holy Bible – however the post-Richey following still see the band's passion as firmly intact. Sean considers the widely varying perceptions.



"I agree that we have a divided audience, but I don't believe we have released anything we didn't wholly believe in," he continues. "We always need something to react against to even begin to get our creative juices flowing and if we ain't got that, we don't do anything particularly well." All Manics albums are angry at something; their debut, Generation Terrorists (1991), was the truest example of a punk record released in many years. The band, dressed head-to-toe in glam-rock regalia, dug their heels deep into their own generation's apathy (and bad 『80s metal), and so began the wild ride of album upon album spiked with wake-up calls or ripping in to the cold truth on all forms of human rights injustices in and outside of the developed world. However, unlike U2 for example, the Manics never patronise their fans; they presume the listener to be curious, informed, or wishing to be challenged, but Sean understands the songs don't always translate. "You know, I wouldn't want to be in a band making music that meant nothing to people, and I get that people don't always see the meaning in our songs, but when they do it feels like we've achieved something." Moore explains, "I don't make any apology if that's not the case, but it would be quite boring for us if we made it too easy or over simplified it." He adds, "We were criticised for being too flamboyant in the past, and for having overly wordy songs, but sometimes I think you need music that goes that bit further than just rocking out."



The beauty of the Manics is you can invest in the often intricate song meanings as many fans would want, but engaging with the well-defined passion of their delivery is a rich enough reward in itself. James Dean Bradfield has one of the strongest voices in modern music, plus the trio have never allowed a gigantic, memorable hook pass them by. Sean explains, "The way we see it, you have to make the music as accessible as possible especially with this album (Postcards…) because Journal… was a lot more edgy, or less musically direct." Sean adds, "We are guilty of being a bit obscure at times, but we wanted this album to rise up out of that." Postcard From A Young Man is nothing if not direct. It takes hold from the very first listen with all the strength of a greatest hits CD. Yet within is a loose, but prevalent theme of longing for simpler times, or at least criticism of the crap-tastic 'world of purchase power' we find ourselves in. Sean discusses.

It's Not War (Just The End Of Love) on Later With Jools Holland

"The title refers to more tactile forms of communication which have all but been replaced by things like e-mail. It's very easy to gain information about a person, but any kind of personal touch is fading away rapidly." The cover image features actor Tim Roth (Lie To Me, Reservoir Dogs) shirtless, his face mostly obscured as he takes a Polaroid picture. The dated photo summarises beautifully the tactile world to which Sean refers - Roth as he was 20-odd years ago embracing a long-lost artefact. Moore continues, "It's just something that harks back to when we were young, I suppose, when you had to sort of maintain and care for the condition of a record or a photo. Now digital images and mp3s are forever frozen in a kind of stable perfection, and none of these things have a chance to wear." He sighs, "But we still like the strange beauty of seeing tangible objects gradually fray at the edges."



Manic Street Preachers can claim a roaring return with Postcards From A Young Man. If their wish to 'get back on the radio' comes true, the album's first single (It's Not War) Just The End Of Love - a commentary on Russia and America's forever damaged ties despite the Cold War ending years ago – would be a delicious prospect. Yes, they are willingly living in the past on this album, and their paranoia of an Orwellian future seems as dated as the idea of infiltrating the mainstream. But the Manics' greatest drive is that there's still room in popular music for renegades, and share their fan's hope that that's something which will never fall out of fashion.



lEIGh5

In the weeks before the Manics Melbourne concert, I was invited onto local community station JoyFM to do a two hour special on the band just playing faves and talking a bit about the group in between songs. The program was called "Raise Your Flag", a kind of all-things-punk weekly show... Funny thing is, we got complaints that the music wasn't suited to the theme of the program! What do you think, reader?



Manic Street Preachers "Raise Your Flag" playlist