Template:Featured
The secret world of Manic Street Preachers revealed.
January 1, 1990 and the first ‘Preposterous Statement For The Day’ reads: "We want to be the most important reference point of the 1990s, that’s all" – James Dean Bradfield, singer-songsmith with some glam-punk gonks called Manic Street Preachers. "We didn’t achieve much of our original manifesto," muses Nicky Wire in ’98, contemplating their dynamic ambitions, "but one thing we always said we wanted to be was the most important rock band of the decade – and I think that’s the one thing we probably have achieved."
You feel you’ve actually done it?
"Yeah. I do."
These days, Nicky Wire doesn’t speak with the everlasting toothsome smile he is famed for nearly as much as he used to. When he talks about something emotionally painful, especially Richey, he twists and rolls his shoulder blades as if trying to dissipate a knot is his legendarily irksome back. He’s sitting on a sofa upstairs in their management’s office, television in the corner switched on with the sound off (one eye trained on the blasted cricket, at which he’ll occasionally roar, "Go on stuff it up the fuckin’ arseholes!" and other sporting delicacies); pale, flop-haired and swathed in all-over casual, expensive sportswear. As is Sean Moore, sitting opposite him, cousin of James Dean Bradfield, who’s missing in action – which is to say paralysed on the loo of his recently acquired London home. Latest report: "It’s coming out both ends." "Must be Met Bar overindulgence…" hoots Nick, sagely.
Manic Street Preachers are giving their very first interview since the triple-platinum success of '96's 'Everything Must Go' resulted in NME Brat Awards for Best LP (the readers but not the writers award), Best Single ('A Design For Life') and Best Live Act in February '97, followed by Brit Awards for Best British Band and Best Album a few weeks later. Events had swept them ever further over the hazardous divide between tragedy and triumph, far beyond their position as fanzine folklore superstars (who'd spent their lifetime railing against the "pointless" cult band cul-de-sac in the first place) into million- selling international rock'n'roll heroes with their inherent, peerless dignity intact. (more...)
