Never Mind The Balloons

Martin Aston watches the Manic Street Preachers

The Independent

August 15 1991

Should I stay or should I go? The Clash could very well have addressed this fundamental question to themselves when they had to decide whether to remain politicised rebels in the original punk manner or become the new Rolling Stones.

They chose the latter, which is why they're better known now for a soundtrack to a Levi's ad than for any insurrectionary behaviour.

Manic Street Preachers evidently believe in never say never. And indeed, there were members of the audience at London's Hibernian Rooms who also appeared to believe in the old Punk's Not Dead ethos - the first pint of beer was lobbed stageward the instant the group took over from the taped intro of an Allen Ginsberg reading.

Perhaps the audience had been fired up by the T-shirts on the merchandising stall. One carried the sentiments "Destroy Work" and "London Death Sentence", while on stage rhythm guitarist Richey wore the stencilled message "Waste '91".

During the set, the Preachers took time out to bait the audience, which resulted in the crowd pulling bassist Nicky off the stage. Yet despite the exuberance of the crowd, the show never really came alive. It takes more than a periodic plastic missile to constitute a riot, even if, at Reading the previous Saturday, the band were forced to stop after six songs, the stage dangerously swimming in beer, bodies and bouncers.

Similarly, despite their genuine animation, Manic Street Preachers are more an approximation of the punk ideal - not a cartoon, but a blueprint consumed from a distance, and missing a real sense of abandon. It was evident in the way they never truly lost their self-consciousness on stage. Each windmilling arm or scissor-kick jump testified to an expressive but contrived exuberance.

The music though is a lot better than their detractors would have us believe. "Strip It Down", "Crucifix Kiss" and "You Love Us" are not the time-stopping anthems of the punk era, but their short, sharp melodic shocks bear the traces of The Jam and The Who's yearning, thoughtful mod-pop as well as the amphetamine rush of those seminal groups. The sound was given extra lift by drummer Sean's emphatic Keith Moon- isms and guitarist James's soulful bark.

Coming after a glut of noise-fixated guitar bands who stare at their effects pedals, Manic Street Preachers are like the first signs of spring, especially if the song is "Motown Junk", a salvo of adrenalin that matches the virulent sting of its anti-love song lyric.

"Motown Junk" succeeded in eliciting some audience response at last, but it was also the finale. Instead, we were left clutching a bunch of balloons advertising the new single, "Stay Beautiful", that had just dropped from overhead.

"Stay Beautiful" is the Preachers' first single for Sony/Columbia - ironically the home of The Clash - and it has just made the Top 40. Right now, in the words of Dwight D Eisenhower, things are more like they are now than they ever were before.