Music / Bristol
Review: Manic Street Preachers, Lloyds Amphitheatre
That the Manic Street Preachers chose to open their set with both an iconic classic and a bone fide chart hit wasn’t an act of arrogance so much as an act of confidence in their material. Motorcycle Emptiness was greeted by a road of approval from the crowd, who needed no encouragement from James Dean Bradfield to take on the choruses for an epic rendition that was matched by their lusty accompaniment to Everything Must Go, surely the most bittersweet tune in the annals of British popular music. A staccato Your Love Alone Is Not Enough kept the crowd bouncing and singing before Bradfield addressed them. His first order of business was an acknowledgement that the band were pleased to be in “…the bowels of the capital of the West Country….” (exuberant cheers) but also to suggest that tonight was a night of solidarity between the west country denizens and their cousins from over the Bridge “…this isn’t fuckin’ sports you know…” (exuberant teasing cheers full of rivalry).
The set came bang up to date with Walk Me to the Bridge from Futurology, pleasingly received with as much passion as the classics already played, before Bradfield got all nostalgia on our asses, acknowledging the band’s links with our fair City during the intro to Indian Summer. He reminisced about each venue played: “Fleece & Firkin…pay to play, four people; Bierkeller, five people…Anson rooms – is that still there..?” reminding us that this is a band with history, no overnight success based solely on hype & controversy but a band that worked its way up through the circuit. He also apologised in advance for lyrical ineptitude as this was the first gig for the band in over six months, and he was concerned he’d be ad-libbing. Given the length of the band’s layoff, the set was an indication of their current form – tight, powerful and accomplished and yet playful and loose, but then the Preachers have always had a sense of mischief tucked secreted in the angst (the riff from Sleepflower teasingly played as the intro to Found That Soul).
is needed now More than ever
Despite the evident pleasure in playing emanating from the stage, the band were in no mood to dilly-dally with the set, a career encompassing selection belted out with passion and self-assurance amply demonstrating how they’ve grown in to their craft and are more than just a controversy generating, headline spawning collection of faux punk provocateurs. There was variety to the tunes, and depth too – the band have a knack of taking good material and making it great with unexpected touches and flourishes, case in point Kevin Carter, a tune elevated from decent to excellent by the addition of Mariachi trumpet. A late set two song acoustic / trumpet interlude emphatically drove home both Wire and Bradfield’s lyric writing ability: the former’s 30 Year War so current, so pertinent it was fuckin’ painful and the latter’s Ocean Spray demonstrating an ability to write poignant personal material alongside polemic.
A belting, just this side of frantic rendition of You Love Us reminded us of the band’s roots, and naturally evoked the Richey in the room (as it were), and although never directly acknowledged his presence could be felt in both choice of material and attitude emanating from the stage. Although no comments were made about the current state of the nation, or the world for that matter, the band’s tunes remain a coruscating commentary on the body politic of this country and surely If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next couldn’t be any more apposite. The band’s “wedding reception tune” Show Me the Wonder brought us to the cusp of the curfew with Bradfield acknowledging the set must end, but promising us the best song in the world and he wasn’t lying: A Design for Life was received with rapture.
Pix: Luke Palmer / @AceroneUK
Manic Street Preachers: Harbourside, 22nd June 2017
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