The Evolution of The Manic Street Preachers

Many bands who are fortunate enough to enjoy a long career are able to change their direction, refocus their fanbase, and constantly reinvent themselves. The Manic Street Preachers, you could certainly argue, were not quite able to do this. However I probably think they did this to a greater extent than a lot of people do.

In 1998, when I was 14 years old, I was only just beginning to enjoy music. My experience with it was far from great but rather only included a handful of artists. My love with music was only just beginning to flower and it was at this time that I was handed a copy of This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours. While that album may be somewhat of a chore for me to listen to these days, I instantly made a connection with it. I also knew their previous release, 1996's Everything Must Go, but had to yet to solidly develop a love for the band.

This is My Truth, and some of its bleak, depressive values, became something of a security blanket for me, a patch, to get me through some of my angsty and depressing moments. At this time I felt I had an understanding of the kind of band The Manics were. Little did I know exactly what I would discover when, several years later, I finally decided to delve into their back catalogue.



In 1986 singer and guitarist James Dean Bradfield, bassist and lyricist Nicky Wire and drummer Sean Moore, three schoolmates from Blackwood, Wales, formed a band with a glam-punk ethos and direction. They were later joined by Richey James Edwards, a bookish, eccentric poet brought into the fold for the strength and brilliance of his writing to partner Nicky as the voice, the intellect and the image of the band.

With influences from The Clash, to Guns 'n Roses and Public Enemy, The Manics found themselves dropped into a punk scene with a strong divide. The Manics were and have never been a conventional punk band, and their earlier live shows would often be met with a hostile reception as fans of the band, and an audience who maybe felt they had their “own” punk band with no prior connections to the late-70s boom, met an older, more conventional fanbase loyal to the movement. There are cases of documented riots at old Manics gigs as the young, cocky outfit set about laying the foundations for their own legacy, with their rather unconventional attire and often poppy “punk” melodies as well as an array of riffs that would be likened to The Clash.

As I stated, Nicky Wire and Richey Edwards would be largely accountable for the image of the band. They have openly talked in interviews of the way they would dress, whether it be at home in Blackwood, or on stage and on tour, and the enjoyment they received from provoking a reaction, often a hostile reaction, to their eccentric use of eyeliner and make-up, spray painted logos on their t-shirts, skinny white jeans, leopard print and feather boas, and, in the case of Wire and Edwards, a willingness to really push the homophobic buttons of their audiences and passers-by despite neither being openly gay. They have talked of what they considered to be the confines of their small, humble up-bringing and town and how expressing themselves in the way they did enabled themselves to somewhat remove themselves from the things they wished to distance themselves from, and have it be known that that’s exactly what they were doing, even if that meant angering those around them in the process.



Fuelled by a passion for literature and poetry, as well as music and an unquestionable (in my opinion) intelligence, the duo wrote leftist, politically charged rock music that also strongly addressed other matters – such as the deep, dark depression and mental health issues of Edwards. The openness and the arrogance of the partnerships lyrics, as well as a confidence in their work that would allow them to address their critics within their work, often in a very tongue in cheek and abrasive fashion, earned The Manic Street Preachers both moderate mainstream success and a feeling of a real cult status and following.

Richey James Edwards, and his battles with depression, mental illness, self-harming and anorexia, were thrust into the public eye in 1991, in an infamous interview with BBC Radio 1 DJ Steve Lamaq. When Lamaq questioned the sincerity and seriousness of his and the bands approach to their work, Edwards responded by using a small razor blade he was carrying to carve the words “4 Real” into his forearm, an image that would later be published in the NME and act to further solidify and strengthen the connection between the band and their loyal fanbase as well as invite more criticism from the non-believers.


We're a mess of eyeliner and spraypaint
D.I.Y. destruction on chanel chic
Deny your culture of consumption
This is a culture of destruction

Originally a roadie for the band, Edwards lyrical talents, as well as his input into the musical direction and imagery, were deemed to be such a vital addition to the former three-piece that the band even overlooked one major flaw – Richey had little to no musical ability. He was credited with having played rhythm guitar on the bands first two full-length releases, 1992s Generation Terrorists and 1993s Gold Against the Soul – The Manics take on a soft metal album – despite both the lead and rhythm parts being played by Bradfield on the former, and only certain guitar parts correctly credited on the latter. Even on stage in the bands earlier days, Edwards guitar would not even be plugged in or amplified, as he mimed along with the parts. Still, however, fans flocked to Bradfields right hand side, Richeys side of the stage, to be stood within his presence, adorned in their own leopard print, home made spray painted t-shirts, tiaras and feather boas, in tribute to a man who, in his openness and honesty with who he was and the demons he struggled with, endeared himself to legions of fans, many of whom were able to relate and connect with an individual who did not hide his struggles from the public eye but rather exposed himself for the world to see.



By the time I started to listen to The Manics, and by the time I began to familiarise myself with, and consequently fall deeply in love with, their first three records, Richey was gone. The fact I was unaware of his existence while he was here saddens me greatly, even to this day. I can’t help but feel that a memory of a Manic Street Preachers live experience from 1989 – 1994 would be one that would mean a great deal to me now and would be something I would never forget. You see, by the time their fourth record was released, their first as a trio – 1996s Everything Must Go, which shattered the bands cult status and propelled them into considerable mainstream success with a much more accessible, commercial and radio-friendly release, the fanbase had begun to change and would quickly further evolve and expand into an audience greatly and noticeably separated by a divide. Suddenly the leopard print, make-up, tiara and feather boas were evened out and surpassed by a broader audience, a more “normal” looking audience, in some ways a Britpop audience, not all of whom would even understand the reasons behind the seemingly strange, questionable attire of those around them. The first Manics gig I attended, I attended with a knowledge, an understanding, and a love and appreciation for what now was a seemingly alienated group – but was I one of them? On the surface, no, I wasn’t. I maybe felt I identified with them but in reality I was one of the new school of Manics fans, flocking to see them off the back of a commercial success story.


The past is so beautiful
The future like a corpse in snow

In 1994, a mere two years before they would experience their commercial boom, the band released what is largely considered to be their magnum opus. The Holy Bible was and is a cult record. It does not provide a real, radio-friendly single or infectious melodies and hooks. It is even a difficult record to listen to in places. Nicky has confirmed that he believes that around 80% of the lyrics on the record are penned by Richey and that he himself had very little creative input when compared to the two records that came before it. The Holy Bible is Richey Edwards record, and on it he exposed himself in a manner that was far greater than he ever had before. James, whose sole job it always was to transform the bands lyrics into songs, has spoken of the uncomfortable combination of awe and horror he felt upon being handed the lyrics for The Holy Bible and reading what could well be seen as the inner workings of a troubled, sick mind. This record, and an appreciation and passion for their pre-Everything Must Go material, certainly influenced me a great deal. To an extent I had not known possible with music. It led to scribbled quotes and lyrics on school workbooks and some frankly embarrassing writing and poetry of my own.

For me that is what the record is all about. That is its essence, its substance. The Holy Bible is an invitation into the mind of an unwell man, baring all, not holding back, not censoring himself or dumbing down his words for fear of causing offence, but rather the writing, and eventually the verbalising, of the dark thoughts being processed inside the mind of a man who, as I said, was fighting a battle with depression, self-loathing, and anorexia. The result was a violently dark, disturbing, revealing and charged record. The lyrics barely comprehensible as Bradfield was effectively trying to write music around elaborate poetry, and the hard, loud, aggressive brand of music found on The Holy Bible, something the band would never quite produce again, almost seems completely unavoidable. You just can’t realistically write a convincing ballad with such ugly lyrical content and themes. I do find the record somewhat unnerving at times, but that is its charm. It is a completely gripping achievement and, in my opinion, solid proof, while I’m immersed in every note, every chord and every word, while reading a long from the inlay booklet, that very real beauty can be found in very dark, evil places.




I wanna be so skinny that I rot from view
I want to walk in the snow
And not leave a footprint
I want to walk in the snow
And not soil its purity

Shortly after the albums release, Edwards checked himself into The Priory psychiatric hospital and rehabilitation centre. When he rejoined the band on tour, they played what would be their final gigs as a four-piece. In their very final gig as a four-piece, and another moment in the bands history that has become infamous, Edwards instigated a violent destruction of the bands equipment at the close of their set. The next time anyone saw the band live, they would be missing a vital component.

In early 1995, Richey Edwards failed to show up for what was supposed to be a trip to the US for a promotional tour. It has been documented that using the money he had collected in small withdrawals every day for the preceding several weeks, he took a long taxi ride through his home town of Blackwood before driving to a local, noted suicide point where his car was later found abandoned and showing signs that it had been lived in. Little to nothing more is known about the fate of Edwards beyond this point. He simply vanished. He has been missing since February 7th 1995, when he was 27 years of age, and in 2008 was legally declared deceased.

The circumstances surrounding his disappearance, and the very nature of his existence, has obviously sparked a lot of debate and controversy around exactly what happened that day. Naturally a lot of people have presumed that Richey committed suicide, and the circumstances do at least appear to support that. Many others, including a lot of people who knew him, however, reject this. Claiming that Richey was troubled and depressed but even in his struggling and suffering, openly rejected the notion of suicide, confidently and adamantly stating that he felt he was too strong to be taken that way. These same people also seem to claim that his car, parked near a Blackwood bridge, would be typical of the bleak, dark humour Richey found in his many conditions. Whatever happened and whatever the reasons is not really something that greatly interests me. The immense talent, and the influence I have taken from his talents, is what interests me and I am left utterly saddened by the knowledge that it seems a 99.9% probability that nobody will ever see him, or have the opportunity to be touched by his work and his abilities ever again.

When the band decided to return from their brief hiatus, after considering whether there was even anything left to return to, they achieved instant commercial success. Potentially the reasons for this are a combination of the media coverage of Richeys disappearance which shone a spotlight onto the band once again, and the writing of a more accessible record. Following the success of Everything Must Go and This Is My Truth (a record that Wire once joked, with very probable accuracy, is the only album to feature a #1 single about the Spanish Civil War) the band released 2001s Know Your Enemy. The three records offered a softer, more traditional and mainstream approach to their songwriting. Many believe these albums also offered a drop in quality. I consider Everything Must Go to be a solid pop album but have to agree that the two follow ups were a drastic lull in form and creativity, even if there are a handful of wonderful tracks on them.

2007s Send Away The Tigers could also probably be included in that, but personally where I feel The Manics post-Holy Bible career is often overlooked is in Lifeblood and Journal For Plague Lovers, released in 2004 and 2009. Lifeblood was a huge change in direction, despite probably still being classed as an alternative or pop-rock record. Lyrically very strong, the record is a reflective, creative Manics making good use of occasional electronics, pianos and harmonicas and really I think the album is just beautiful. Journal For Plague Lovers marked the end of a 14 year period in time where the band refused to use any of the lyrics Richey left behind, despite consistent calls from fans to do so. It took 14 years for the band to feel right about it, and the album seemed to have came and went without a lot of people, apart from fans, realising, as the band decided to partake in minimal promotion and touring, and also refused to release a single from it.

There also exists another overlooked gem in the Manic Street Preachers discography, in the form of a b-sides collection released in 2003. In a welcome response to an often fan-criticised Greatest Hits collection released the previous year, which focused heavily on the bands hit singles from 1996 onwards, Lipstick Traces: A Secret History of the Manic Street Preachers was embraced by the more loyal fans of the bands entire career. The double CD release, comprising of b-sides and cover versions, included the unreleased Judge Yr'Self, a track recorded in 1995 which also came with a video of self-shot footage from the bands early days. The content of the record, and the leopard print artwork design, helped to educate the newer fan further in the roots of the band.

The bands most recent album, Postcards From a Young Man, was referred to by their own admission as “one last chance at commercial success” following their gradual slip away from the public eye in terms of sales and chart positions. While I think the record is far from exceptional, I do feel it’s somewhat underappreciated, with a sound use of strings and a choir to create solid pop music. One thing is for certain though and that is The Manics are a far different band now when compared to the direction they were taking in their earlier days. I consider the two phases or era’s of the band to be completely different and separate from one another. This is two different bands, and when not compared to their pre-1996 output, the second phase of The Manic Street Preachers is certainly not as strong, but not without some good albums.

One thing I can say quite honestly about this band is that I feel as though their music has helped me. Their very forthright, open and honest portrayals of the darker side of the human psyche, coupled with a such an expressive, public account of a mans struggle with very real mental health issues and depression, I’m not ashamed to say has helped me come to terms with, accept, and helped me through my own phases of depression and a tendency to self-harm over the years. The acknowledgement of these issues helped me to both justify my own feelings and brought with it a feeling of liberation, as I no longer had to try my hardest to hide it, mainly from myself. The Manic Street Preachers have not let go of that side to their music completely, even if Richey was the embodiment of it.



The evolution of The Manic Street Preachers has not been straight forward or predictable. It has involved many off-shoots and deviations over the years and some times of real doubt, threat, success and tragedy. While the once thriving, colourful, old guard of fans has diminished, the new generation of a very different kind of fan grew and grew. What may not be obvious to everyone, however, that is obvious to me, someone who wasn’t even there at the beginning, is that the roots and the history of the band is still there for everyone to see.

Put aside for a moment the fact that the band continue to split their earnings and royalties four ways, as if Richey had never left, mindful of that improbable, extremely unlikely day when he returns where the band can show him that he never left their minds, their hearts, or indeed their side. Where the memory of an edgier, more controversial Manics truly lies is, despite opinion to the contrary, on the live stage. It would be easy to look around at the much larger, seemingly alien audience, eyes fixed firmly on the centre of the stage, ears sampling melodies, tunes and words that Richey Edwards did not help to create, and feel that the band have simply moved on and would be unable now to ever look back. It would be easy to see that, but I say you would simply not be looking hard enough. As the symbolic feather boa lies draped over Nicky Wires microphone stand, much like the ones around the necks of the few gathered, almost hidden, in the sea of heads towards the left hand side of the stage where he would once look upon them – as the earth beneath the feet of the right hand side of James Dean Bradfield remains empty and open, a gaping hole, a gap occupied by nothing but a lone, unused microphone stand – it could not be clearer to those who know that the spirit and the influence that Richey had on his three friends and bandmates, and the place he and they most truly deserve to have in the records of British rock music in the ‘90s are still alive and well. I know I’m not the only one in the crowd who can’t take my eyes away from it.

Urb's RYM Stuff

Most people sell their soul to the devil, but the devil sells his soul to Nick Cave.

Urb's RYM Stuff

Most people sell their soul to the devil, but the devil sells his soul to Nick Cave.

Originally Posted by RoxyRollah And I actually am taking out a restraining order for you Batlord.

Originally Posted by The Batlord Another one for the collection.