For those unfamiliar with the history, Manic Street Preachers have, by turns, enjoyed and endured a very strange ride since forming in 1986. Originally one of the musical breed that generated the Britpop wave of the late Eighties (along with The Stone Roses, Happy Mondays, Blur, Oasis and innumerable others), the Manics crested to fame the old-fashioned way: on the strength of great songs, a killer live shows and a set of personalities within the band that were so mysterious and attractive, everyone wanted to know about them and decode what they were about. It was all doomed to be dogged by problems though; the first potentially mortal blow came in 1995 when Manic Street Preachers lyricist/guitarist Ritchey Edwards vanished without a trace and cast the band's future into question. The remaining members of the band did bounce back from the loss and released This Is My Truth in 1998, and then did it again in 2001 with Know Your Enemy. Time passed, tastes changed and, while interest in the Manic Street Preachers may have waned, they soldiered on – continuing to win awards for their efforts and retaining a sizable live following. In 2008, when Ritchie Edwards was officially announced 'presumed dead' (although the story remains a mystery because no clues and no remains have ever been discovered), the remaining band members took on the mantle of survivors; now reappearing with a new batch of songs – except they're fourteen years old. Journal For Plague Lovers marks the final release of songs written by Ritchey Edwards, left behind just weeks before his disappearance.
Now, not to trivialize the work and successes that Manic Street Preachers have done since Edwards' departure, but Journal For Plague Lovers puts into sharp relief just how good the band was at the height of its powers (read: when Edwards was writing for them). From the scrappy, frayed-edge opening of “Peeled Apples,” the band sounds more vital than they have in fifteen years as the guitars slap listeners upside the head and commend them to pay attention while singer James Dean Bradfield snaps and snarls melodies more potent than anything since The Holy Bible (since Edwards' departure, Bradfield has given has given Morrissey a run for the title of 'best sullen disposition in rock'). In many ways, it feels like the band has returned and landed squarely in their golden age (not surprising given the vintage of the songs) but, even better, the band is actually performing them that way too; it doesn't sound like a fifteen-year absence from form returned older and wiser, it just sounds like vintage Manic Street Preachers.
From there, the band steps up its game further with “Jackie Collins Existential Question Time” and the transition is complete; the Manic Street Preachers that put out Know Your Enemy and This Is My Truth… is some other band; while Edwards still isn't there, these Manic Street Preachers haven't been seen since 1995. Bradfield's sidewinding, Cure-meets-Heartbreakers guitars quarrel bitterly with the bass and drums supplied by by Nicky Wire and Sean Moore while that rhythm section also drives his voice to the throes of ecstasy and it's easy to want to follow them to the brink – until one realizes that's exactly where it's all headed. Closer examination of the lyric sheets reveals that Edwards was in trouble toward the end as he wretled with his own depression and addiction as well as the changes occurring in the world and music scene around him. While the songs can easily be called 'classic' (they have aged incredibly well, they're as potent now as they would have been had they been recorded and released in 1996), there is torture here as Edwards obviously felt out of place (lines like, “Oh, Mummy what's a Sex Pistol?,” “Only a god reserves the right to forgive those that revile him” and, “I am confused – I only want one truth” are only a few of the hints at how undone the guitarist was coming), convinced the earth seemed to be falling out from underneath his feet (check “Doors Closing Slowly” and “Pretension/Repulsion” for the damage already done). With that in mind, that Edwards was able to turn such a disintegration of self into such fine music is a sadly beautiful statement; he was able to turn his own undoing into art of tragic beauty.
As the record draws to a close with the lugubrious/manic “William's Last Words” and the final calls in the vocals of the unnamed hidden track on Journal For Plague Lovers no listener familiar with the background of this record won't feel a twinge of debilitating sadness at the fact that, while the story is only now drawing to a close, it actually ended over a decade ago. There will be no follow-up from the Manic Street Preachers capable of matching Journal For Plague Lovers because the pieces will never be in the same alignment in this life. This will be the last time this mix comes together and, given the absolutely stellar presentation on Plague Lovers, it's a sorrowful prospect. Even so, there's no doubt that this is an album the band needed to make – the book needed to be closed – and heartfelt thanks should go to the surviving Manic Street Preachers for making it so well.
Artist:
www.manicstreetpreachers.com/
www.myspace.com/manics
Listen:
Select tracks from Journal For Plague Lovers are streaming now on Manic Street Preachers' official web site. Listen here.
Album:
Journal For Plague Lovers is out now. Buy it here on Amazon .
