| My Review -
Anywhere that you read people will say that this is the poorest Manic's album, even they say so themselves however I feel that it is drastically underrated. For a start, the "worst" Manic's album is miles better than the best album by many many other bands. Also when this album was released the record company and the reviewers wanted straight out radio friendly top ten hits, which is not really what the Manic's are about. The last single they released was 'Suicide is Painless' which went to number seven in the charts so much more was expected of the Manic's from their second album especially sine they failed to make a bigger album that Appetite for Destruction and utterly failed to split up after. This album is often overlooked, when it is stuck between the Punky Rock album of Generation Terrorists with the dazzling Motorcycle Emptiness and the 'up yours' You Love Us and the black glory of The Holy Bible with the almost poppy PCP and the beautiful She Is Suffering , however this is an album which deserves just as much praise as all the Manics others and has more than earned a place in your CD collection. |
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| Q - What, indeed, can a poor boy
do except play in a rock'n'roll band? When you're from a small Welsh town
where nothing is ever going to happen and you rely on the papers and telly
to give you your second-hand kicks, imagining you're some mighty amalgam
of the The Rolling Stones, The Clash, the The Sex Pistols, glam tramp supremo's
the New York Dolls, Kiss or even Guns N' Roses, then strapping on a shiny
guitar and polishing up your manifesto for change represents one of the
few genuine ways of escape. So it is that Manic Street Preachers find themselves
a bit of a laughing stock in some quarters through such bare-faced pillaging
of the past and a naive belief in the ability of a beat and a handful of
chords to shock, subvert and somehow alter lives. But with the bulk of
their contemporaries seemingly caught in the slough of despond of indie
introspection or toeing a faceless party line of dance conformity, then
their tangible desperation to shake things up at least deserves an A for
effort. Besides, their double album debut, Generation Terrorists, was chockful
of cheap sloganeering, booming guitars, melodic dexterity and the whiff
of bad sex and better drugs, an intoxicating brew in anybody's book and
good enough to create the occasional frisson of excitement. Sadly, with
Gold Against The Soul, the cupboard looks to be already distressingly bare.
Supposedly in an effort to return to their punk-inspired origins, producer
Dave Eringa, who worked with the band on their initial Heavenly singles,
has returned to help create a more focused sound. However, other than having
the vocals buried knee-deep in the mix, there's little discernible difference.
The guitars and drums kick in right from the word go with the bracing opener,
Sleepflower, all slashed chords, knee-jerk riffing and buoyant, eager to
please chorus, but as a song it simply doesn't happen. That's pretty much
how it stays. Sympathy Of Tourette toys with thrash, Nostalgic Pushead
is base metal, while the title track is almost funk-like. Amid such company,
Roses In The Hospital and La Tristess Durera offer fleeting respite without
the consolation of fresh insight and From Despair To Where comes propped
up with strings. Hardly the stuff of provocation or even a personal development
plan for the terminally disenfranchised come to that. It's superficially
competent, of course, but scratch below the surface and you'll find few
signs of life, just a vaguely expressed, bemused and bored dissatisfaction:
the sound of a band digging in for a long-term career rather than knocking
over a few of the statues. When will they ever learn?
2 stars out of 5 ***** |