Review Summary: Under Neon Loneliness, CHAPTER 7: “Like Vietnam’s Leeches…”
10 Years on from the filth and fury of
Generation Terrorists that birthed the Manic Street Preachers, it appeared as if they had unceremoniously descended from grace. Having struggled and scraped to #1 twice now, the band were being abandoned by ardent followers and casual listeners alike- in a rather asinine bout of self-righteousness, the NME awarded the bands
Forever Delayed a 0/10, all but extinguishing any hopes of success with the ‘trendy’ crowd of the day. However when the band took a rather bold move into synthrock that began with aforementioned compilations “There By the Grace of God”, it was to fall on deaf ears. While the bands new sound was undoubtedly cribbed with flaws, it was unfortunately dragged through the dirt in the process, being referred to often as the bands major moment of weakness.
In reality however, that’s nothing but bull***. Opener “1985” slides along with cold and colourful synths, backing Bradfield’s nostalgic wails for the time of, ‘Morrissey & Marr’, feeling reinvigorated after veritable cluster***
Know Your Enemy. No sooner is it followed up with the sleek synthpop of “The Love of Richard Nixon” (Surprising, seeing as Nicky Wire sees all American Presidents as “cunts”) and the dark rockist essence of “Empty Souls”, two of the bands brightest and most brilliant moments that prove the new sound can work. Deep cuts such as the fantastically out-and-out ‘rock’ of “To Repel Ghosts” serve up testosterone by the gallon- it’s still no match for “Nobody Loved You”, mind.
That being said, flaws do count for something, of which the album is riddled with. No matter how amazing “Empty Souls” is on wax, it’ll never beat its initial origins- a fast-paced and aggressively dark number at the Isle of Wight now feeling neutered by comparison. Other ‘experiments’, such as slap-bass on “Always/Never” prove needless if not enjoyable, chipping away at a decidedly funky groove- if it really fortifies it is anybody’s guess.
Trimmed of fat and created without critical inspection,
Lifeblood isn’t deserving of as much hate as it’s often given. Moments such as final farewell on “Cardiff Afterlife” still at least prove relevancy, even if again it’s at the cost of the ego of the electric guitar. Cold synths smothering rock and pop numbers might not be everybody’s taste and the sales reflect that, but
Lifeblood is often discounted unfairly amongst the canon of the Manic’s works- it’s easily the most brilliantly experimental release they’ve every accomplished.
NEXT: “People Like You Need to *** People Like Me…”
