On the Road Again
Live Reviews:

Manic Street Preachers
September 11, 1999
The Warehouse, Toronto

Scattered blue lights provided the atmosphere in a dark Warehouse this cool September night. The crowd was very big very early, reaching near-capacity at 9:00pm, but the masses had to wait until 10 for things to get started. Expected warmup act Remy Zero cancelled on short notice, leaving local Toronto space rock band Hollowphonic to open.

It's been quite a week for Hollowphonic, playing before slow-core heroes Low at Lee's on Thursday and on this occasion opening for the Best Band in the World (according to last year's Brit Awards). Granted, Hollowphonic do have their sound down as a dronier, more repetitive take on Spiritualized, but they simply need to do more with the mood they create, lest it drift off into nowhere as it almost did this night.

The short break between bands was filled with a crowd-pleasing mix of songs by the Beatles, Blur, Marylin Manson, and Belle & Sebastian that all drew sing-a-long responses. But this seemed to take away from the build-up of anticipation in waiting for the headliners, and the Manics were on before we knew it. Starting off with "You Stole The Sun From My Heart", it was clear that the numerous Brit Awards were no fluke. They were tight as a drum this night, and between James Dean Bradfield's hopping and spinning and Nicky Wire's daffy's and windmills, they had a good time as well.

Their Queen-sized stadium rock projected easily to the thousand-plus bodies in attendance, but this vastness also had its drawbacks in a more intimate venue — there was no acknowledgement of each other on stage, no eye contact between the bandmembers, and no indication that they were a band that's been together for more than ten years (and been through a lot in that time). This was a show performed by a group used to playing Glastonbury-sized stages, and standing dozens of feet apart.

Nevertheless, they stormed through their set a few beats per minute faster than on record, giving anthems like "Kevin Carter" and "If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next" an added edge of excitement. Note to the guy who held up a lighter during "The Everlasting": this isn't 1981, and we're not watching REO Speedwagon. And please stop trying to initiate the wave at sporting events, it's bloody annoying.

Halfway through, singer/guitarist Bradfield played two solo acoustic songs "Black Dog On My Shoulder" and the starkly beautiful "This Is Yesterday" before bassist Wire and Drummer Sean Moore came back out to finish the set. Ending with the bona fide classic "A Design For Life" after an hour fifteen we waited for an encore but got the house lights and P.A. music instead. No "Be Natural", no "The Girl Who Wanted To Be God", and no sense of completion. This was a satifying show, however. And not only because the Manics write such great songs, but because they translate so well in live performance.

Like the soft/hard dynamic of grunge, when Bradfield turns on the distortion after the lull of the verses, it's almost guaranteed to get a rise out of the punters. The set list ran from the 1991 single "You Love Us", through the Richey James period ("Drug Drug Druggy", "Motorcycle Emptiness"), but mostly drew from the last two albums Everything Must Go and This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours.

These aren't the Manic Street Preachers that we once knew. Their eye make-up and the situationist slogans stenciled on their shirts have been replaced by more conservative dress. The anger and speed of their early catalogue has subsided in favour of a more thoughtful, more human approach to songwriting. If any band can be considered to have matured, it's the Manics. The loss of a friend and bandmate will have that effect. But mature doesn't mean boring or tired, as their songs are definitely some of the strongest and most powerful around today. The Manics are still political, they still give a damn, and they're still 4 Real.