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In an exclusive interview, Wire talks about what it means to remember Richey and how the Manics have brought his memory back with new album Journal for Plague Lovers.
An interview with Nicky Wire cannot take place without a quick wash of context. On February 1, 1995, the night before a US press trip, Richey Edwards, guitarist and lyricist for Welsh rock band The Manic Street Preachers, disappeared. The story was widely reported on in the UK and there, he is considered an icon.
This writer had the privilege of spending an evening with the Manics in 1992 in Copenhagen. Richey Edwards was an incredibly intelligent, complicated, lost-looking fellow who subsisted on a diet of vodka and crisps. He had a wry sense of humour and a soft voice. He loved his dog Snoopy, the media and attention. And he was Nicky Wire’s best friend.
It is generally accepted that Edwards, who suffered from mental illness and anorexia, likely committed suicide. Yet his body has never been found. A few still believe Richey is still “out there.”
And in a way, they are right.
On Journal for Plague Lovers
The Manic Street Preachers latest album, Journal for Plague Lovers (Sony) contains lyrics written entirely by Edwards – words handed over, in a mess of papers, to Nicky and the band a few weeks previous to the disappearance.
But rather than sound elegiac, the album is a triumph. Thirteen tracks, 13+ years after Richey, and 13 different emotions seem to course through the notes. It is, by turns, heartbreaking, pretentious, anthemic, celebratory and utterly commanding. Its critical success isn’t just Richey’s, it’s the success of a band reunited.
In this exclusive, three-part interview, bassist Nicky Wire folds himself into a chair at Vancouver’s Commodore Ballroom to speak candidly of coming (back) to America, recording JFPL, his mate Richey and what it was that made him so special.
It could be said you’ve had a love-hate relationship with the US, but it’s been mostly hate, hasn’t it? Why has there been a 10 year gap between tours here?
It wasn’t really hate – it was just the hypocrisy of the US, the duality, the good and the bad. But the whole thing with North America in general is that the world is a big place. It got to the point where if we could go to Hungary or Romania or wherever and play to 10,000 people, well, it was easier than trying to “crack” North America. It just doesn’t happen for some people, does it?
Is it strange to think that many of the fans coming out to see you now never saw or knew of the band during Richey’s era?
Actually, we signed a few of the old singles in Seattle last night – which was really nice. To think that someone who hadn’t seen us in Seattle had the old albums – well, some of them didn’t even look like they were born when we started! But I think when we started we were much more of a lifestyle choice, than a band and I think that’s resonated through the years.
James Dean Bradfield's Music, and Richey Edwards' Lyrics
Much debate has gone on about the timing of releasing this album. Was this a way to bring your friend back into the band?
When we were doing the album it did feel, in a very strange but very beautiful way, that we’d regained that balance and that was how we started the group. But it was a kind of suspended disbelief while we made the record. As soon as we’d finished it and realized what we’d done and what we’d made, it became a bit more emotional. It felt like it was the four of us and we had the strength to take on the world again.
Musically the album is very different. More complex. Where do you start with words that were scribbled on several pages, given to you by someone an age ago and who himself is now lost?
[Singer] James [Dean Bradfield] started it. And I sometimes wonder, not if he’d become bored with me but, you know, that he wanted a new sound to take him in a different direction. The first time James started coming up with stuff, he’d been looking at the lyrics much more than I had, and he was drawn into making music for them. Straight away you could tell that what he was coming up with, very quickly, actually was in a different universe.
It’s okay to talk about Richey Edwards again. Touring a new album carved from gritty rock and lyrics left to the band by their guitarist before his 1995 disappearance, the Manic Street Preachers have steeled themselves for the inevitable barrage of questions about their former friend and bandmate. In the second-part of an exclusive three-part interview, bassist Nicky Wire talks about his past and what it means to be present in the Manics.
Fans always talk about Richey’s “genius.” Where do you start with lyrics bequeathed to you, and what do you think made your friend so unique?
It was his non-stop intellect, that’s how I like to think of it. We considered the lyrics from the view of a 27-year-old, like a man at his peak, really. Lyrics are an art form, and I’d like to see him recognized for that. To make lyrics like that you have to have that state of mind, and that can’t come from my lyrics. My lyrics don’t paint questions into musical corners. So for a brief, shining moment, we could become a different band again - we could become the band from 1994-95, all post-punk rhythms, which really doesn’t really lend itself to my words.
Nicky Wire on Richey as a Great Writer
Richey craved attention. He wrote letters to the music press in the UK. He carved ‘4 Real’ into his arm with a razor blade in front of a UK writer. What do you think Richey would have made of the Internet today?
I think it would have gone either one of two ways – either Richey would have been the ultimate blogger, the ultimate opinionated one, or the exact opposite ...It would have been interesting to see how he’d deal with all that noise made of us. He worked quite hard for knowledge in those days, reading books, magazines and that comes through. One of the things we wanted to do with this album is really frame Richey as a real writer and celebrate him as a great writer and lyricist.
But what set Richey apart from being just opinionated? What made him the genius beyond the myth that fans see?
His ability and all his thirst for knowledge was captured in his lyrics, and that’s the real thing about him. There’s the general aura and all the rest of it, and the way he looked was brilliant. But again it was his thirst for knowledge. It’s easy to talk about things but to put it into words and lyrics, that’s really unique.
Rebirth of the Manics and Richey Edwards' Lyrics
One Manics fan online wrote that he felt this album was a “rebirth” for the Manics...
It’s really odd for us, the whole rebirth thing – and I don’t want to disappoint but I don’t think we’re ever going to make another record like this. We can’t, because it captured a state of mind. We go through stages. We’ve wanted to make big, successful records and I think we enjoyed that for a few years. But with this record, we’re reconnecting with people who perhaps went off us. For someone who the [1994 Richey-penned classic] Holy Bible meant everything to, I don’t expect them to really like this as much, but you know, I’m the same way. There’s only certain Smiths albums I like or Bunnymen albums, and I think we’ve all thought the same thing. The real research for us was to put our minds into the context of a 27-year-old and try to capture that raw energy of playing live, and I think you can feel that.
Did you come at the album from a 1991-92-era Manics with Richey or did you look at it from later?
That phase was a when it was all about the band, we all wrote the lyrics...but this was his.
Wasn’t it painful to relive Richey’s voice, his lyrics, and bring him to the forefront again?
No, it isn’t painful at all. It was only the last 6-8 months with him when things were really bad. My memories are not just all about being in a band. Remember, I knew Richey since I was 5, so it’s of going to the pub, being in university and sitting around eating pies. I mean, really mundane stuff, and we did a lot of that, cos we’d known each other for so long. He is a rock icon and I really love the fact he is, but he’s also a friend, a brother, he’s someone’s cousin. He’s so many different things.
The Manic Street Preachers have always been an explosive live act. In 1991, they were a mess of hairspray, Guns n’ Roses riffery, punk-rock sloganeering and fake-fur coats. Richey Edwards, their lyricist who disappeared in 1995, could barely play guitar. But he was smart, and looked the part. Singer James Dean Bradfield had a tremendous voice and musical talent, while his cousin, Sean Moore, bashed away on drums. Beanpole bassist Nicky Wire towered over everyone – often in a dress and eyeliner. Live shows were either inspired or shambolic. It was splendid.
In 2009, Nicky Wire is 40 and is sitting in a Vancouver ballroom. The Manics’ live shows haven’t lost their spark. Tonight, he will grin and bounce and the band will play an heroic set. But Nicky hasn’t been to North America for more than a decade and in the final part of this three-part interview, he reflects on life on the road, the life in the new album and the past life of his old mate.
The Manics: Back in the US
What’s been the best and worst of being back on tour in North America?
I am genuinely impressed by the fact that people are even turning up. I am quite surprised as well. We haven’t been here in f*cking 10 years and some of our albums haven’t even been released in North America, like Lifeblood. But I am struggling being on a bus. Because we don’t really do that much anymore, so the lack of a mirror and wardrobe is a struggle too. But we’re not just here to promote our new album, we’re playing from [early EP] Motown Junk, all the way through. We’re not trying to ram the new record down peoples’ throats.
Some feel the tour is a bit of a celebration to honour Richey. All the lyrics on this album were written by him and given to you before he disappeared...
It is a celebration. But we tried it in the UK where we did the whole album in its entirety and then we did another set of the regular songs afterwards, it was like 29-30 songs...
...versus the 40 minutes you used to play circa 1992!
You were lucky you got 40! We couldn’t even do “Motorcycle Emptiness” then, because me and Richey hadn’t even learned it! But the people who turn up now have been with us for a long time and they deserve to hear as much of our past as we can give them without dying on stage.
Working with Steve Albini on Journal for Plague Lovers
In terms of having Steve Albini work with you on this album, was it a blessing that he didn’t know your...
...’baggage’? [laughs] I think that’s his real raison d’etre isn’t it? Much as [1994 Manics album] Holy Bible had no producer credit, we just wanted someone to record us. We were well-rehearsed and disciplined, we had the concept in our heads and the words were the guiding light. Even the artwork was a guiding light and we knew Jenny Saville [who contributed the artwork on the Holy Bible album] was going to be part of it, so they were the final parts in the link. I really enjoyed Steve’s company. I didn’t expect to become long-time friends, but we did we did 80% of the record with him. And it really does feel in the moment. No matter what bands tell you, you don’t really get that, but I think this is good.
When you look back on finishing JFPL, what did the three of you think you’d accomplished?
After we finished it and looking back, that emotional side came through. But when we were recording it it was just a great experience. We sort of went ‘okay, do we need to talk about this?’ We don’t really know what all this means. We’re going to have to play this every night and some of the songs are much more demanding, all the rhythms and so on. I’m really pleasantly surprised it sold pretty well, we weren’t expecting that.
The critics were nearly unanimous in their appreciation for this album.
Yeah, we were over the moon with stuff like that.
Do you actually read the reviews?
Yeah, I read every review I can. That’s never changed.
Remembering Richey
Richey would have, too. He loved all that stuff, didn’t he? He was just so entertaining. It wasn’t just his intellect. He was really entertaining!
But people don’t have that perception of him.
No, they don’t.
They also don’t know about his sense of humour. What were your favourite memories of Richey?
There’s just too many. Though I remember when we nearly gassed ourselves because we were spray-painting our shirts in my room university and we didn’t open any windows and we had all this car spray paint and all of a sudden we started to feel lightheaded. We’d done about 20 shirts. And I also remember the plainer moments in Blackwood where he was just Richey, and it was us eating pies. And we’d just sit there and talk. To have him around now, it’d just be so brilliant. He’d still be the person he was, and that would have been magnificent to see.
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