Manic Street Preachers / Ian Brown - Plymouth Pavilions - 14/12/02
5/5
By: Thomas Hannan
Come on, guys - a greatest hits tour; what were you thinking?! Isn't this possibly the most corporate, shamelessly money-grabbing, downright, soulless thing you could have ever done..? Doesn't it come across as something of an insult to a band that promised to quickly change our world and then disappear? So, MSP, where exactly did things alter course?
Of course, both in terms of musical style and personnel, this is a band that has undergone a mammoth evolution. Thankfully, what tonight does best is to not try and persuade us that current output is really more worthwhile, but reminds us, as if we needed reminding at all, just how bloody fantastic the Manic Street Preachers were when it all started.
Logically, a support-slot from Ian Brown should be fiery a prospect also; the initial clues at least point to something special: frontman of one of the most seminal bands for decades, owner of a consistently high-quality back-catalogue of solo material, and generally a living legend. Yes, King Monkey should be a lot better than he actually is.
It's not his confidence or even songwriting skill that's in doubt - far from it - as almost all the tunes him and his band knock out tonight are first-rate, but most are despondently undermined by the apathy of the lead singer. His main fault, one documented time and time before, is often simply not bothering to hit the notes, or, indeed, if he's even singing in the right key. As a result, decent tracks such as 'My Star', 'Golden Gaze' and 'F.E.A.R.' are pretty much slaughtered underneath a vocal drone, and it's a huge disappointment... Then, for one moment, 'Corpses' arrives and Ian Brown is as great as he should be - all mystic lyrics and brooding melody, working like some supernatural musical potion... If only he could pull it off more often. 'You didn't expect to enjoy it this much, did you?' Sorry Ian, but most of us expected to enjoy it a whole lot more.
In all honesty, however, we didn't quite expect to enjoy the Manics quite this much. Whilst what we anticipate - that being a set with one or two classics, but consisting largely of the lesser-energy, 'Everything Must Go'-onwards material - would be welcome enough, wouldn't it be wonderful if they surprised us a little bit? Actually, they do - and it's more exhilarating than you could ever imagine.
It almost comes across as an apology. They've done the 'Greatest Hits' thing, sold all the millions of records, bought the fast cars and lived the celebrity life. But, just watch and listen - maybe in reality they're still the down-to-earth, politically-charged, slightly sleazy Manic Street Preachers you fell in love with all those years back... And so, we're treated to 'She Is Suffering', 'Slash & Burn', 'Motown Junk', hell, even 'Stay Beautiful' gets an airing, and utterly sublime it all is, too. Sure, James and Sean may wear nicer suits than before, and Nicky knows some longer words, but they're still wearing leopard skin dresses, jumping on equipment and shouting anti-fascist propaganda at us. Makes you wonder why you ever doubted them, really.
That set then is a fascinating one. Apparently compiled from suggestions made on the band's website, it's two thirds the 'culture, alienation, boredom and despair' of the feather boa days, but with the token middle-of-the-road gem such as 'The Everlasting' to appease the Mondeo drivers in this principally middle-aged crowd. Fortunately, they always pull it back just when it looks as if it's going a little soft; just look at that guy Nicky Wire in a dress climbing his amp for reassurance.
'This one's called 'Wattsville Blues... You'll be lucky,' jokes Nicky in his characteristic deadpan style. In fact, there's absolutely nothing from most recent album 'Know Your Enemy' played tonight. No, not even the good bits. As far as new stuff goes, we get the actually rather strong 'There by the Grace of God', and less-instantly-impressive forthcoming single, 'Forever Delayed'.
It's all so remarkable that providing a note-by-note account of the entire show is a very tempting prospect - the dedicating of 'Motown Junk' to the missing Richey Edwards and his family and spicing it up with the riff from Guns And Roses' 'Sweet Child Of Mine'; the playing of 'Last Christmas' in an attempt to get the band feeling more festive; and Sean Moore still drumming like a man crazed despite maintaining that trademark 'I really don't fit in here' look. If you block out from memory the entirely cringe-worthy, lounge version of the otherwise brilliant 'Faster' that we're subjected to, it's near on perfect.
'This has been fantastic. You've given us a good going over,' declares James before 'A Design for Life' closes the evening in ever-majestic style. 'If this was sex, I'd be going home with scratch marks on my back.' While hundreds of tiara-wearing adorers contemplate that one further, the rest of us return home feeling wholly satisfied.
The verdict: ignore everything you've heard anywhere else. The Manic Street Preachers remain one of the most essential bands alive in the world today.
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