On the tube to the mammoth O2 Arena my brother and I were speechless. Two life-long Manics fans (he’s got the hen’s teeth rare picture disc of The Holy Bible), we were about to see them play all thirty eight of their singles in one night. It didn’t seem real.
The gig was billed as a final send off to the rock and roll single. No band has made more of the power of four minutes of rock and roll than the MANIC STREET PREACHERS. In a way that surpasses everything before or since, each Manics single is an artefact. Even ignoring the songs (which is a bit like saying ignoring absolutely everything), the lyrics could be dissected for weeks, the videos were charged with unforgettable imagery, the artwork was always iconic and t-shirt worthy. Each single was as loaded as an atom bomb. They weren’t just songs, they were instructions on how to live your life.
However, with download culture encouraging the disposability of music, the days where a single could forcibly change your existence are over. Unfortunately, songs have become just songs. Knowing this, the Manics have vowed to disappear for two years and find a new approach. There will be no more sloganeering mission statements. No more attempts to infiltrate the mainstream with manifestos disguised as radio fodder. Except this one night; where we get absolutely everything thrown at us, one last time.
Instead of playing their singles as a career narrative, the band’s two sets were picked seemingly at random. While this made the three hour show physically possible (try and find a band half the Manics’ age who could play beyond the turbulent onslaught of their first twelve singles), it also revealed the power of their music. The show may have lacked coherence but rather than getting swept up by eras and reinventions, each song was allowed to stand up in its own right. Never ones for self preservation, it felt like we were floating amongst the wreckage of the Manics’ career finding debris to hold on to. Each time we did, it was absolutely euphoric.
Perhaps daunted by the task in hand, the beginning of the show was noticeable for some minor technical glitches and James Dean Bradfield’s astonishing voice being kept slightly in the cage. Still, the preposterous ambition of the show was not lost on the band. Nicky Wire gleefully announced any mistakes he made and Bradfield warned “there are many songs you might want to go the bar for”. The evening oozed a delicious honesty which fed life into the vacuous arena almost as much as the choruses. Wire screaming “you’re my fucking guitar hero” over Bradfield’s metal solo in Love’s Sweet Exile, the admittance that the band thought the gothy dirge of She Is Suffering could have been “our Every Breath You Take” and guest star Gryff Jones taking vocal duties along with James on a gorgeous Let Robeson Sing were all moments of beauty in the first set which culminated in their first number one If You Tolerate This.
Then the second set blew the roof off. Opening with a scorching Australia nothing was held back. Bradfield’s scream felt like he was speaking directly to every single person in the arena and Wire, newly liberated by his obligatory costume change into a dress, pulled out every move he has trademarked in his career. He yelled out almost as many lyrics as Bradfield (always a sign of a fantastic Manics gig), landed jumps which threatened to send reverberations to the furthest seats and generally behaved like a disturbed child defiling his mum’s dressing up box.
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The immense presence of Richey Edwards was never far away with his face appearing throughout on video screens and in many dedications by the band. The highlight of which must have been the story that when playing a Portuguese festival at two in the morning, Edwards had peaked worryingly early and was found backstage trying to sober up by eating a kiwi fruit. At this moment Edwards announced “I’ve just written an amazing lyric about group sex in the Kremlin” to which Wire replied “sounds like another winner to me Rich!”. The Manics then tore into a version of the aforementioned Revol that was absolutely earth shattering. So shattering in fact that Wire was forced to reveal he pulled out his shoulder playing it and should probably “be doing yoga and pilates like Coldplay”.
Nina Persson from The Cardigans joined on vocal duties for Your Love Alone, the song that rejuvenated the band’s career and increased momentum for the end of the set that appeared to peak with a violent rendition of debut single Motown Junk. This was until A Design For Life ended in explosions of red, white and green confetti and Wire smashing the sparkling bass that has been a staple of his live set up for years: an unforgettable visual full stop for this moment of Manics history. So there it was, a remarkable, stunning, truthful, funny, and moving night that celebrated absolutely everything the Manic Street Preachers stand for. There will never be a night like it again. There will never be a band like them again.
The Manics played:
First Set:
‘You Stole The Sun From My Heart'
'Love's Sweet Exile'
'Motorcycle Emptiness'
'(Its Not War) Just The End Of Love'
'Everything Must Go'
'She Is Suffering'
'From Despair To Where'
'Autumnsong'
'Empty Souls'
'Let Robeson Sing' with Gryf Jones
'Faster'
'Life Becoming A Landslide'
'Kevin Carter'
'Little Baby Nothing'
'This Is The Day'
'The Everlasting'
'Indian Summer'
'Stay Beautiful'
'If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next'
Second Set:
'Australia'
'La Tristesse Durera (Scream To A Sigh)'
'Found That Soul'
'There By The Grace Of God'
'Some Kind Of Nothingness'
'You Love Us'
'Theme From M*A*S*H (Suicide Is Painless)'
'Revol'
'The Love Of Richard Nixon'
'Ocean Spray'
'The Masses Against The Classes'
'Roses In The Hospital'
'So Why So Sad'
'Postcards From A Young Man'
'Your Love Alone Is Not Enough' with Nina Perry
'Slash N Burn'
'Tsunami'
'Motown Junk'
'A Design For Life'
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