It’d be understandable if I were to give the Manic Street Preachers’ new album, Lifeblood, five stars simply by default. I know that, as a reviewer, that’s totally morally wrong, but lately I’ve been beginning to question just why I love this band so much, and also why I insist on raising their profile up to such lofty heights every time I review/talk about them (and of course, by automatically giving this new album five stars, I’d go a little closer to justifying my man-love). That’s a bad situation to be getting into when it concerns your third-favourite band in the whole world, but when I really sat down and thought about it, I couldn’t see any justification for me being as rabidly obsessed with this band as I am. Okay, so here’s a little anal-retentive rundown of everything the Manic Street Preachers have ever done -- told from my perspective. See if you can fathom why I love them so.

Generation Terrorists (1992): a cocky debut, performed with all the swagger of a band who thought they had the world at their feet. Bursting with Guns N’ Roses-esque virtuoso soloing and a latent energy, it was unfortunately bogged down by an overdose of material (eighteen tracks), and a seeming need to be bewilderingly complex, both with riffs and the aforementioned solos. (3/5)
Gold Against The Soul (1993): considered by everyone -- even the band -- to be a slump for all intents and purposes, but I didn’t think this was all that bad. They still had the fury, prevalent on about half of the tracks here, but they were a little more focused and restrained (only ten tracks this time, and of a generally slower speed than their debut). Some of it is downright cheesy though, and it falls away spectacularly in the second half. (3/5)
The Holy Bible (1994): the last album with controversial lyricist Richey James before he disappeared, and a career-defining one at that. Bursting with nihilism, a furious punk energy, blasting guitars and biting vocals, everything about this exudes brilliance. They’re very clearly never going to do better. (5/5)
Everything Must Go (1996): the first album without Richey, and you’d never have known he’d left. Well, aside from the fact that just about all the rage had disappeared from the music, as the band opted for a more universally appealing, pleasant sound. The production gave a gleaming edge to the music, and everything was crisp and luvverly and mmm. You still got self-indulgence from virtuoso guitarists/vocalist James Dean Bradfield (JDB! JDB!) from time to time, but it wouldn’t have been a Manics album without that. (5/5)
This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours (1998): the inevitable album that provoked cries of ‘sell-out’ from hardcore fanatics. A glossed-over, rock/pop album that utilised sitars and piano and diversified the band’s sound more than Richey could’ve ever hoped (I think) -- although the disc still housed a few more hostile tunes. Bassist Nicky Wire finally took over all the lyrical duties (a couple of Richey songs had been used in Everything Must Go); his song-writing wasn’t (or isn’t) quite as direct or poetic (or, indeed, as good) as Richey’s though. Nonetheless, this was a tremendously solid set of songs that worked in almost perfect harmony. (4/5)
Know Your Enemy (2001): trying to re-hash old styles and invent new ones at the same time, this eclectic bunch of tracks spanning aggressive punk, 50s-style tunes, dance and acoustic-ness was an inconsistent misfire on all accounts. Only a couple of tracks were anywhere near as good as the Manics are capable of. And this is what they left us with on the album front… oh my. (3/5)

Okay, so now do you understand? Interpreting this summary, only half of the Manic Street Preachers’ albums to date are worth bothering about -- according to me anyway. It’s actually half-true. They’re a frustratingly good band: The Holy Bible and Everything Must Go both slot neatly into the ‘tremendous’ category (although the former is most fitting of that description); This Is My Truth… is about as close as they’ve come to replicating that brilliance; and the other three are an irritating mix of the sublime and the distinctly average. My explanation for loving the Manics so much? Well, if two excellent albums and a pretty great one isn’t enough to justify liking a band (and clearly, to me, it isn’t, since I brought up the issue in the first place), then here goes: when the Manics are good, they’re absolutely amazing. And they’re too good, as a band, to ever go through an entire album without unknowingly being amazing at least, say, twice. Thus, the amazing moments on those other three CDs are just about enough to keep me listening through the sub-standard ones -- and I inevitably end up listening to the band constantly because of this. Hence… I love them!

Right, well, it’s about time I started discussing Lifeblood instead of my complex psychoManical problems, don’tcha think? It’s been three long, long years since the Manics released an album, and considering that Know Your Enemy is our last remaining memory of the band (if you don’t count the B-sides collection Lipstick Traces and the greatest hits Forever Delayed, that is -- and I don’t), those three years have seemed like a veritable century. So what sound are the Manics exploring these days? The answer is: pop. Yes, that’s right… pop. Lifeblood is the poppiest I’ve _ever_ heard the band, and if Richey’s era of fury was indicative of his musical style preference, then he’ll be turning in his grave at this very minute (in my mind, he’s dead, even though some refuse to admit it, okay?). If there were one word to describe this album, it’d be ‘white’. Honestly. I can’t explain it, but the album has an airy, light feel that just exudes whiteness to me -- plus the cover’s predominantly white, so that backs my point up nicely. The music is choc-a-bloc with synthesizers, so anyone with a synth allergy should probably stay well away from this. The songs have a nice, collective unity about them; in each one it feels like you’re floating amongst the fluffy clouds, and I *heart* that feeling. It’s tranquil, and every ounce of bile has been pretty much removed from proceedings -- if anything, it’s the polar opposite to The Holy Bible (although anyone expecting them to make another one of _those_ had better give up pretty quickly; the solider outfits and goth make-up have gone…) and its closest relation in the Manics’ oeuvre is, funnily enough, their ‘sell-out’ album, This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours. But it doesn’t even resemble that one as closely as I’m making out. Oh no, this is much fluffier and dreamier and more textured than I ever imagined the band would get.

Still, incase you couldn’t tell, I love just about every second of it. My musical hero, JDB (!!) is a little restrained on this record (as he usually is on the Manics’ more subtle, gentle material), but when he occasionally decides to flex those soloing muscles, it’s sheer bliss, and you can’t help but sit up and take notice. His guitars on this album float and delicately worm their way around, never overcoming the synths in any way, but always making you aware of their sweeping presence. That’s a very difficult thing to accomplish. And his vocals have never sounded better: he’s returned back to chart-topping crooner, contrasting with his diversion into previously-honed screaming on the majority of Know Your Enemy. Let’s face it people -- he just rules, plain and simple. It might seem like I’ve forgotten about the other two guys, but I haven’t (and who could blame me if I did anyway?). Drummer Sean Moore is horribly under-utilised in this album, as he’s one of the best drummers in the world today, but is unfortunately rather unnoticeable for the most part here. A lot of his beats are big (most, in fact -- they echo with a resonance that suggests recording took place in a rather icy cave), but most of the time they’re fairly standard and, while an excellent compliment to the relaxing atmosphere here, ultimately drab. Nicky does his usual substandard job of playing bass (yeah… JDB and Moore were always the talented musicians in the band -- Richey couldn’t play guitar to save his life), but to his eternal credit he manages to impress me with a few nicely twanging bass lines. And he does lay a pretty solid foundation for all those synths, pianos and guitars to swirl around upon. His lyrics are typically solid but unspectacular.

Apart from the couple of little qualms I have above, Lifeblood is a major return to form for the Manics. It’s really irrelevant as to what style of music their return to form occurs with; they’re good at just about everything they try. But the songs here have a unity that’s not unlike The Holy Bible’s tracks, and each and every one has the potential to continually grow on you. It’s tasty, and I couldn’t have asked for more from the guys -- I guess the temptation to give it five stars by default was really just a precursor to what would end up happening…

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Since most of the tracks have similar sounds, and incorporate a lot of the same elements into themselves, it’s difficult to describe more than a few of them without repeating oneself. But I’ll give it a shot. Even if you live in America, you’ve probably heard the first single, “The Love Of Richard Nixon” by now, right? If you’ve heard it, and like it, then for-goodness’-sake buy the album as soon as you can!! It’s wholly representative of the entire CD general-sound-wise, if a little poppier. The beat sounds processed, from a computer rather than Moore’s arms, and the bass bops along with it in playful fashion. Choruses are where the borderline cheesy, whistling synthesizers enter -- whether that’s a bad thing is up to you, but if you don’t like them here then never fear. They’re never this obvious again throughout the rest of the album, I wouldn’t say. Anyway, they carry the tune, and eventually JDB enters and wheezes out a spacey solo. The subject matter is, obviously, their affection for one Richard Nixon. Duh. To be honest this track is probably one of the least standout efforts on here, but that’s not to discredit it as a song: it’s giving hefty amounts of credit to the album. The second single is, in my mind anyway, far superior to this one. “Empty Souls” exudes atmosphere, and is permeated by a gleaming piano line that would make fellow British group Doves proud. Guitars stretch out, groaning their way through the bouncy verse, and Moore actually gets to pound his way through the almost eerie chorus (“Exposed to a truth we don’t know / Collapsing like the twin towers / Falling down like April showers / Colossal endless like a marathon”) for once. I think I prefer this one due to its obvious flow; it just glides along like a steadily-flying aircraft. Plus, JDB gets to squeak out a fiddly little solo towards the end! Yay!

It’s a nice touch that they chose to open the album by paying tribute to the year of my birth: "1985". I think they must really appreciate having me as a fan. They make countless references to the year in the lyrics, which is hardly surprising: “In 1985 / Orwell was proved right / Torville and Dean’s bolero / Redundant as a sad Welsh chapel.” Oh, and they also manage to sneak The Smiths in there, which is always cool: “Friends were made for life / Morrissey and Marr gave me choice.” The song is a little more grandiose than what I’ve previously mentioned, starting off restrained, but soon bursting out with hazy noise and an odd, techno-lite beat. Powerful keyboards drive the everything-but-the-kitchen-sink choruses, and then there’s a few JDB solos interspersed within the action (never a bad thing!). “I Live To Fall Asleep” is the antithesis of the approach this track takes; one of the most delicate and melancholy songs on here. They sound absolutely _nothing_ like themselves on this track! The verses have cute, sweet little piano and fluttery little synths; the choruses have one of the most gorgeous guitar riffs in the album, literally coated in cotton wool as it caresses its way through. The drums manage to keep it sounding somewhat upbeat, though, particularly in the punching build-up to those mostly instrumental choruses (“When did you decide / That sleep could save your life? / When did you become / Another boy struck dumb with love?”). It’s heavenly, and restrained to the max, and get this… I adore it! Woohoo!

It wouldn’t be a Manics album, however, without some showing-off time for JDB. He gets to do that on a pseudo-rocker, “To Repel Ghosts”. If it didn’t sound so dreamy and sleepy and spooky, it’d be a driving rock track with its twittering, spiralling riff and a drumbeat that ploughs forward. It’s one of the more instantly appealing things from this disc, and that riff captivates the listener for the song’s entirety, twisting and turning and glittering and fluttering. Lovely stuff, and JDB proves to me yet again why I like him so much. Getting the impression that I like him yet? Anyway, he pulls it off yet again on what has to be one of the most single-worthy tracks, “Glasnost”. This time the song is a bit warmer, and it’s probably the mushiest, sappiest piece of music on here, yet I can’t help but admire the band for making the sound suit them. Again he puts a winding riff out there, and it captures the attention of the listener straight away (along with another simple yet effervescent beat). The choruses calm things down, stripping away the riff and going all atmospheric on us, but JDB soon returns on guitar for what is a downright whooshing solo.

The rest of the album is pretty much in the same vein as what I’ve described here, although I feel obligated to point out a few more tracks. We have to wait until track seven to get anything that could even be defined as a weak link, and that one is “Emily”. Although in truth it’s not weak at all; it has a swanky bass line and an intensely melodic chorus, all covered over with generous helpings of prettiness. Awww… it’s lovely. I like it a lot, and I’m calling it a weaker track. “Always/Never” is another one of those ones that jumps out at you straight away, as it has the most ‘definitive’ intro on the entire disc: an almost funky affair with twanging bass, punching drums and bloated, dense keyboard tones. It soon ascends up the scale, though, culminating in a swirling, dream-like, aura-filled chorus. “A Song For Departure” has its foundations laid firmly by Nicky on bass (he plays some cool hooks, actually!), and it’s a real grower -- I didn’t make much of it at first, but then I really grew to love the uncertain, foreboding nature of the piano build-up into the oppressive choruses. They really do sound grand and dense, and it’s fabulous. It’s quite different from the rest of the album, although still retains that same dreamy, ‘white’ sound. It’s nice how they can do that. Then, to close, there’s “Cardiff Afterlife”, a title which seems to suggest something about Richey… the band perhaps believe he is still alive out there somewhere? I don’t know, but this is a generally reflective album, and the lyrics don’t deviate from that feel here, whether they concern Richey or not: “Your memory is still mine / No I will not share them / Acquaintance through denial / For I witnessed splendour / And evil that no-one saw / And I felt kindness / And vanity for sure.” It contains one of my favourite plonking riffs from the album, and the choruses are the most sparse on the entire disc, consisting of nothing more than drums that build up to nowhere and some twinkling. An effective way to close out a fantastic disc.

What more can I say? If you’re a Manic Street Preachers fan (or even if you’re not… yet) you must get this CD. For four albums now, the Manics have had a shadow cast over them by Richey James’ disappearance. Every time someone mentions the band, Richey must also be spoken of as well. I don’t think they’ll ever rid themselves of that. Maybe they don’t _want_ to rid themselves of that. But if they continue to produce albums of such bewildering quality as Lifeblood, then people will start to pay the three remaining members the attention they truly deserve. Here, the Manics have crafted a modern pop masterpiece, accessible yet tightly wound, and I can comfortably say that they’ll always sit proudly at the top of my favourite bands list. If Lifeblood gets a reasonable chance to impress the USA (and it looks like it might) then hopefully they’ll garner a whole new country full of adoring fans, and become universally known as one of the best bands in the world today. Trust me, they deserve it.

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Excellent: 1985, The Love of Richard Nixon, Empty Souls, A Song For Departure, I Live To Fall Asleep, To Repel Ghosts, Always/Never, Solitude Sometimes Is, Cardiff Afterlife
Good: Emily, Glasnost, Fragments
Average: NONE
Weak: NONE

Final Rating: 18/20


Recommended: Yes