Manic Street Preachers (Wolverhampton Civic Centre, 21st May 2007)


MANIC STREET PREACHERS
Wolverhampton Civic Centre, 21st May 2007

Times are changing in the West Midlands. On the very night that Wolverhampton Wanderers Football Club is sold to some bloke who offered a tenner, there’s an air of optimism about the place. There’s a decent week for live music in the offing. Bright young things The Twang arrive tomorrow night promising booze and good times, and then on Thursday The Editors bring their neo-Joy Division roadshow to town. In-between we’ve got Biffy Clyro, but I suppose you could always watch the Champions League Final that night.

If times are changing, where does that leave Manic Street Preachers? They’ve got a brand-spanking new album, acclaimed by the popular press to be a return to form, but they haven’t delved as far back as Generation Terrorists, have they? It’s doubtful Red magazine, who proclaimed it “a return to their punky roots,” ever heard a line like ‘repeat after me, fuck Queen and country.’

The people who doubt Send Away The Tigers are turning up tonight out of a sense of loyalty and duty. The Manics are a band that inspires this kind of devotion; most ‘older’ fans have them to thank for cracking open a wider intellectual world, a world where Camus met Rimbaud and Marilyn was as important as Thatcher. Because we want to thank them, we appear. At least, that’s the theory behind it all.

As if to make the point right away, the into is The Clash’s cover of Booker T’s ‘Time Is Tight,’ which sets the scene well and builds an atmosphere. Only most of the people here don’t have a clue what to expect. They want the wench from The Cardigans.

And then? Eardrums shattered from killer opener ‘You Love Us.’ The Manics look lean and toned, James straining at the mike. Note perfect, it’s an amazing feeling; like being run down by sheer aural power. They segue into ‘Imperial Bodybags,’ rocking it up and making it more palatable, and then wheel out a howitzer – ‘Motorcycle Emptiness,’ and we all sing along; not because we have to, because we remember how much we love this band.

The Manics steer wisely clear of anything that lets up in the pace of the set, playing a few from the latest album. It works really well live, maybe proving once and for all that none of their albums (at least post-Richey) have lived up to what the songs sound like stripped down. The Manics were always ‘rock,’ it’s just that when you’re faced with the huge possibilities of a studio, you tend to get carried away and go over the top. This is what they really meant when they said they’d gone back to punk.

The set is an augmented greatest hits, trawling the larder for songs they haven’t played in years, like ‘Born To End,’ dedicated to the 22 people who were at Dudley JBs in 1991. ‘Sleepflower’ gets a much needed airing, and after James’ obligatory solo spot, they blast back with a medley of ‘Condemned To Rock ‘N’ Roll’ and ‘Motown Junk,’ which sounded as good as is written.

Perennial closer ‘A Design For Life’ is a real beaut, ending as they started. All arms in the air, singing along. The band has that rare ability to please everyone, which is a rare commodity in music these days. If you don’t catch this tour, you’ll regret it. Manic Street Preachers are back, hungry and powerful; they’ve a tiger in their tank. Beg or pay over the odds for a ticket. I’m not kidding – they’re really that good.

Chris Stanley

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