| London Wembley SSE Arena - 03/12/2021 Review
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| Publication:
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The Times
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| Date:
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Monday 6th October 2021
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| Writer:
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Lisa Verrico
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| Rating:
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★★★☆☆
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No one would be more appalled to see a middle-aged Manic Street Preachers on stage than the Welshmen themselves in their younger years. What they would have made of the fiftysomethings walking on to Abba, showing adorable, vintage footage of themselves on screen and reminiscing about Richey Edwards, their famously missing, presumed dead bandmate, is probably unprintable.
Yet for much of their final gig of the year, Manic Street Preachers proved that their punk rock roots remain. Motorcycle Emptiness was a fast and furious opener, If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next bristled with as much anger as ever and Motown Junk was majestic. Bassist Nicky Wire, still able to pull off tight white trousers, at least at a distance, incessantly scissor-kicked.
Unfortunately, the energy on stage didn’t always translate to the crowd. The problem was a woefully undersold Wembley Arena. Even with the back curtained off, there were swathes of empty seats sapping the atmosphere. At a packed venue this would have felt like a victory lap for the band whose 14th album, The Ultra Vivid Lament, became their first chart topper in 23 years in September and boasts their strongest songs since the Noughties.
Among the standouts were a psychedelic Happy Bored Alone, the Abba-influenced Orwellian and a dramatic Still Snowing in Sapporo, dedicated to Edwards, whose handsome, boyish face on screen decades after he disappeared was heartbreaking.
Wire thanked the audience for giving him an excuse to get out of his tracksuit. Frontman James Dean Bradfield, note-perfect even when he screamed, was in playful mood, telling fans how nice they smelt and dismissing his bandmates to play a lovely solo acoustic rendition of their 1993 hit La Tristesse Durera.
The surprise highlight was a storming cover of the Cult classic She Sells Sanctuary, dedicated to the former Manics producer Steve Brown, who died this year. “He produced Wham!, he produced the Boomtown Rats, he produced Motorcycle Emptiness,” Bradfield declared. “And he produced this f***ing song.”
The crowd howled along, and for a few glorious minutes those empty seats were forgotten.
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