Manic Street Preachers Albums (8)
'Journal for Plague Lovers'
Release Date 5/12/2009
Tracks 13
Label Sony BMG Europe
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Richey James Edwards disappeared in February 1995, just months after the release of the Manic Street Preachers' lacerating third album, The Holy Bible. He was officially presumed dead in November 2008 and just months later the Manics released Journal for Plague Lovers, an album that's an explicit sequel to The Holy Bible right down to its Jenny Saville cover art. The Manics pay tribute to their lost comrade by setting his last writings to music, getting Steve Albini -- beloved by Richey for his production on Nirvana's In Utero, a clear antecedent and close relation to The Holy Bible -- to produce a record unlike any they've made since his vanishing. Tripping on barbed-wire guitars and twitchy as a raw nerve even when it's draped in strings, Journal for Plague Lovers consciously harks back to the emotional bloodletting of Bible, only this manages to skirt the darkest corners of the soul, never quite feeling as desperately hopeless or unsettling as that bleakest of albums. Curiously, there's a feeling of comfort, even relief, to Journal for Plague Lovers, a palpable sense that the bandmembers are grateful to be confronting Richey's ghost head-on. Of course, the Manics never ignored Edwards, but he was notable as an absence -- not presence -- in their music: when he left, they chose to leave behind their arty punk for dignified arena rock. Here, they ditch that inflated sound -- although, truth be told, they were making inroads in this direction on 2007's Send Away the Tigers -- for tight, clanking, cantankerous guitars, so they're not only singing Edwards' words but playing his music, bringing him back into the band in a way that makes them full. Now that they've completed the songs he left behind, it's not that the Manics can finally put Richey to rest now, but rather that they've found peace, that they're finally ready to acknowledge and embrace the blackest portion of their past, and that the grieving has finally stopped and they're moving forward. Indeed, Journal for Plague Lovers winds up being The Holy Bible in reverse: every moment of despair is a reason to keep on living instead of an excuse to pack it all in. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Like many long-term relationships, Manic Street Preachers benefited from some time apart, as their seventh album, Send Away the Tigers, makes plain. Arriving on the heels of 2006 solo albums from both singer/guitarist James Dean Bradfield and lyricist/bassist Nicky Wire, Send Away the Tigers finds the group recharged and revitalized, achieving the widescreen grandeur of Everything Must Go but infusing it with a harder rock edge that may not be as furious as their earliest work, but is no less committed. This surging sense of purpose was conspicuously absent on the Manics' previous albums, which grew increasingly mannered in their attempts at majestic pop, culminating in the pleasant but too soft Lifeblood. It's hard to call Tigers soft -- it thunders even in its quietest moments, and when strings or keyboards are brought in, they're drowned out by guitars. This doesn't sound like a desperate measure; it sounds like recommitment on the part of the Manics, especially since they haven't abandoned the melodic skills they've honed over the past decade. They've merely melded them to muscular yet mature rock & roll. It's that commitment to hard rock that makes Send Away the Tigers bracing upon its initial listen, but what makes it lasting is the songs, which may lack anthems on the level of "A Design for Life," but they're something better: they're small-scale epics, roiling with drama and coiled with tension, flirting with being overblown but kept grounded by the group's reclaimed righteousness and newfound sense of control. That leanness applies to the album overall as well -- where every Manics record since Everything Must Go grew increasingly over-stuffed, this has no flab, and its ten songs have a relentless momentum. It's still pretty bombastic -- the Manics were never about subtlety -- but the sweeping gestures are delivered with a sense of efficiency that makes Send Away the Tigers never seem heavy-handed, which is something that even their best albums often are. So, this isn't merely a return to form, then -- it's also a welcome progression from a band that only a couple of albums back seemed stuck in a rut with no way out. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Instead of being the return to form it was clearly intended to be, Manic Street Preachers' sixth album, Know Your Enemy, sucked the life out of the band, collapsing in a heap of bad reviews and ill will. It was such a wrong move that even the band acknowledged that things went wrong, so they took some time off to regroup, issuing a hits collection Forever Delayed in 2002, with a B-sides and rarities comp Lipstick Traces following in 2003. The decks being suitably cleared, the band eased back in late 2004 with their seventh album Lifeblood, a record that takes the MOR/AOR inclinations of This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours to heart. Gliding by on smooth surfaces of synthesizers and lightly sequenced beats, Lifeblood is simpler and hookier than the lumbering Know Your Enemy, which is a relative blessing: it results in a record that's easier to enjoy, even if its smoothness doesn't gloss over memories of what the jagged, visceral band the Manics used to be. Even on the grandiose, arena-ready Everything Must Go, they sounded like a tense bundle of nerve and ambition, a clear byproduct of punk, but here they sound not far removed from the legions of po-faced, sincere but dull groups that stumbled through the colorless aftermath of Britpop at the tail-end of the '90s. Apart from a sense of craft that thoroughly identifies them as pros, what separates them now are what have always been their hallmarks: Nicky Wire's perpetually adolescent literate literariness -- which, at this point, is either endearing or infuriating (though as lines like "so God is dead/like Nietzsche said" and titles like "The Love of Richard Nixon" pile up, it's hard not to tip toward the latter) -- and James Dean Bradfield's keening, earnest vocals. When the music hit harder, Wire's words made more sense and Bradfield's singing tugged on the heartstrings, but with music as slick and seamless as this, they seem a touch anachronistic, the lone holdovers from when the band lived with abandon, giving their music an invigorating, reckless edge even when it was incoherent. But growing up was never going to be easy for the Manics -- they were either going to break up, embarrassingly ape their former glories (which they came perilously close to doing on Know Your Enemy), or they were going to deliberately, somberly enter adulthood, as they do here. Since they craft solid records, Lifeblood is a pleasant listen, but once you peel away the keyboards, sensitively strummed guitars and tasteful harmonies and concentrate on Bradfield's nakedly open voice and Wire's terminally collegiate lyrics, it's hard to escape the unintentional pathos that winds up defining the album and, conceivably, the band's latter-day career. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
'This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours'
Release Date 8/25/1998
Tracks 13
Label Import
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What The Critics Say
If Everything Must Go found Manic Street Preachers coping with Richey James' sudden, unexplained disappearance, its follow-up, This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours, finds them putting the tragedy behind them and flourishing as a trio. Wisely, the group builds on the grand sound of Everything Must Go, creating a strangely effective fusion of string-drenched, sweeping arena rock and impassioned, brutally honest punk. Since the band never writes about anything less than major issues, whether it be political or personal, it's appropriate that their music sounds as majestic and overpowering as their pretensions. Given that the first single was titled "If You Tolerate This Then Your Children Will Be Next," calling the Manics pretentious is fair game, but they make their pretensions work through a blend of intelligence, passion, and sheer musicality. This Is My Truth sports more musical variety than its predecessors, which means it can meander a bit, particularly toward the end. Nevertheless, these misgivings disappear with repeated listens, as each song logically flows into the next. If the album ultimately isn't as raw or shattering as The Holy Bible or emotionally wrenching as Everything Must Go, it's because the ghost of Richey has been put behind them. That doesn't mean that This Is My Truth is light, easygoing listening -- the portentous, murky closer "SYMM" guarantees that -- but it's not as torturous as its immediate predecessors. But what it shares with them is a searing passion and intelligence that is unmatched among their peers on either side of the ocean -- and, in doing so, it emphasizes the Manics' uniqueness as one of the few bands of the '90s that can deliver albums as bracing intellectually as they are sonically. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Months after the release of the harrowing The Holy Bible, Manic Street Preachers guitarist Richey James disappeared, leaving no trace of his whereabouts or his well-being. Ultimately, the remaining trio decided to carry on, releasing their fourth album, Everything Must Go, in 1996. Considering the tragic circumstances that surrounded it, Everything Must Go is the strongest, most focused, and certainly the most optimistic album the Manics ever released. Five of the songs feature lyrics Richey left behind before his disappearance, and while offering no motivation for his actions, they do hint at the depths of his despair. Nicky Wire wrote the remaining lyrics, and his songs give the record its weight and balance, confronting the issue of Richey's disappearance in a roundabout way, never explicitly mentioning the topic but offering a gritty dose of realistic optimism offering the hope that things will get better; after the nihilism of The Holy Bible, the outlook is all the more inspiring. Furthermore, the Manics' musical attack has become leaner; their music still rages, but it's channeled into concise, anthemic rock songs that soar on their own belief. Above all, Everything Must Go is a cathartic experience -- it is genuinely moving to hear the Manics offering hope without sinking to mawkish sentimentality or collapsing under the weight of their situation. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
It's difficult not to look at The Holy Bible as Richey James' last will and testament, yet that only makes the record all the more powerful. A remarkable step forward from the Manic Street Preachers' first two records, The Holy Bible is a tense, harrowing collection of tortured, cryptic declarations of depression -- the diary of anorexia "4st 7lb" is one of the most chilling songs in rock & roll. James' lyrics, which are punctuated by Nicky Wire's political tirades, are unflinching in their bleakness. Every song has a passage frightening in its imagery. Although the music itself isn't as scarily intense, its tight, terse hard rock and glam hooks accentuate the paranoia behind the songs, making the lyrics cut deeper. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Taking the hard rock inclinations of Generation Terrorists to an extreme, the Manic Street Preachers delivered a flawed but intriguing second album with Gold Against the Soul. Inspired by Guns N' Roses, the Manics decided to rework their working-class angst as heavy arena rock; they seize upon the latent politicism of Guns N' Roses' tortured white-trash metal, interpreting it as a call to arms. Since the Manics are more intellectual and revolutionary than the Gunners, Gold Against the Soul burns with inspired, if confused, rhetoric. The Manics, however, aren't quite as gifted with hooks at this stage -- their power derives from their self-belief, which they can't quite translate into songs. They are given a bigger, louder production on Gold Against the Soul, which makes the album a more visceral listen than Generation Terrorists, but the songs aren't as consistently compelling as those on the debut. "From Despair to Where" is a vibrant anthem, and "Drug Drug Druggy," "Roses in the Hospital," "Yourself," and "Sleepflower" all have a similar energy, but the peaks don't arrive quite as frequently as before. Nevertheless, the rage is more articulate and the sound is stronger, making Gold Against the Soul a flawed but worthy step forward. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
