Manic Street Preachers rock on
The political art-rockers turned pop-rock heroes are still going strong after more than twenty years.
The Manics emerged from Blackwood, fuelled by the radical socialist culture of the south Wales valleys.
They’ve outlived their own expiration date, survived personal trauma and enjoyed infamy, notoriety and success.
Some say their name comes from the book of the Monty Python film Life of Brian, which lists ‘manic street preacher’ as one of its characters.
The Manic Street Preachers were born, albeit with a different name, in 1986, when James Dean Bradfield, Nicky Wire, Sean Moore and rhythm guitarist Flicker formed Betty Blue, although they’d changed their name to Manic Street Preachers by the time they’d cut their first single, Suicide Alley.
All friends from an early age, it wasn’t long before Richey Edwards, at first a peripheral member of the group, was absorbed into the line-up.
After the single failed to make any waves, the band moved to London, where their startling visuals and forthright views prompted some critics to dismiss them as phoney chancers.
Melody Maker writer Bob Stanley thought differently and helped them put together the New Art Riot EP for Heavenly Records. them on and would prove crucial to their future.
Two further singles got the music press talking and led to acres of coverage. Liked or loathed, almost everybody had an opinion about them.
The image threatened to swamp their music, so much so that when rock journalist Steve Lamacq asked the band if they were “for real”, the band’s protestations were vividly underlined when Richey Edwards cut the words “4 Real” into his forearm with a razor. Six days later the Manics signed a major record deal with Sony.
Their first album Generation Terrorists sold 250,000 copies world-wide, and despite the band’s claims that they would make “one great album then split up, throw it all away,” they conspicuously stayed together.
The second album Gold Against the Soul disappointed some, and after touring many levelled the accusation that they were losing their direction. Problems worsened with the death of Philip Hall in December 1993, and Richey’s emotional problems led to his admission to the Priory Clinic in London.
This turmoil would be documented in the energetic and relentlessly bleak third album The Holy Bible, released to great acclaim in 1994. The uncompromising tone of the record would translate into a similarly charged live tour, climaxing with the destruction of £10,000 worth of their equipment at the London Astoria. It was the last time they would play as a four-piece.
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