It must be tough being a Manic Street Preacher. In interviews the band seems as aware as anyone that they have passed their peak; they will never again produce a record as provocative and artistic as 1994’s ‘The Holy Bible,’ nor as anthemic as 1996’s ‘Everything Must Go.’ Yet they determinedly refuse to split up, instead continuing to produce such lacklustre albums as last year’s ‘Lifeblood.’ But there is hope. Excellent reviews of 2004’s UK tour prompted the band, having only just made it home again, to declare a second tour, this time of smaller venues around the country. Among their stops was this gig, apparently their first in Edinburgh for a shocking ten years.

The crowd is predominantly made up of loyal, often middle aged, Manics fans, many clad in the diehard’s uniform of leopard skins and fishnet tights. They cheer as feather boas are wrapped around bassist Nicky Wire’s mic stand. The anticipation is palpable.

Finally the lights go down: a throbbing purple spotlight illuminates the decorated mic, to more ecstatic cheers. More lights drown the stage and the band appears. Immediately they blast into surprising opener ‘Found that Soul’, from 2000’s weak album ‘Know Your Enemy:’ performed live it’s passionate and powerful, infinitely better than the sterilised studio version. The crowd love it, feather boas and fairy wands are waved excitedly. Next is the epic hit ‘A Design For Life’, at the opening bars of which the crowd really goes wild – frontman James Dean Bradfield remarks afterwards, seemingly genuinely bemused, “Fucking hell, you’re worked up, aren’t you?”

Buoyed up by this reception the band blast through such classics old and new, from ‘You Love Us’ through ‘Faster’ to ‘The Masses Against the Classes’, with the kind of passion and excitement that have been missing from their albums for almost the last decade; they run and leap around the stage, strike poses, and swing guitars and mic stands like madmen. Even new songs such as ‘1985’ or ‘Firefight’ sound great (although the same can’t be said for the tedious ‘Cardiff Afterlife’) but it’s undeniably the old, Richey-era songs that blow you away. The Manics have a back catalogue that bands that have been going since the seventies would envy, and they use it brilliantly – be in no doubt, their live shows are essentially greatest hits performances.

Nicky Wire and drummer Sean Moore flee the stage halfway through and Bradfield gives an excellent solo acoustic performance of ‘The Everlasting’, before the band rejoin him (Nicky, brilliantly, wearing a new costume) for an extended performance of Holy Bible dirge ‘Archives of Pain’. They pound out a few more excellent songs, including ‘Ifwhiteamerica…’, ‘Stay Beautiful’ from first album ‘Generation Terrorists,’ as well as probably their last great song, ‘Let Robeson Sing.’ Bradfield thanks the audience sincerely, telling us we’ve been “Fucking amazing” before launching into their closer, a stomp through the beginning of ‘Paradise City’ that turns into the always fantastic ‘Motown Junk.’

People have been waiting for the Manic Street Preachers to split up for a long time now, given that they apparently have little left to say. As they themselves ask on ‘Let Robeson Sing,’ “Can anyone make a difference anymore?/ Can anyone write a protest song?” – hearing the band’s old and new material played alongside each other leaves you with the distinct feeling that if anyone can, it’s probably not the Manics any longer.

It’s true that few would miss the Manics if they never stepped into a recording studio again, and certainly it would take one hell of a new direction to save them now. However, going by this performance, it would be a tragic shame for the world to be deprived of their live music – and they’re not just for obsessives with ‘Richey’ carved into their arm either; one friend I was there with didn’t know much by the Manics but was still blown away. They may sound tired and defeated in the studio, but onstage the Manics can still rock like revolutionaries.

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Mathew West lives in Edinburgh, which he considers to be a vast improvement over Stonehaven where he was brought up (if you don’t know where Stonehaven is, don’t try to find out. Some things are best left alone). When he’s not throwing money away on cds, complaining, entertaining private Marxist fantasies, or watching TV, he occasionally gets around to studying for a degree in History and Sociology. Once he has his degree he has no idea what he’s going to do with it.

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© 2005 Laura Hird All rights reserved.