More about: Manic Street Preachers

Taking inspiration for its title for Sun Tzu's The Art of War, Manic Street Preachers sixth studio album Know Your Enemy is often considered a step too far even by the standards of a band that has prided itself on pushing themselves through punishing extremes. The product of an existential crisis and a need to reclaim their outsider status; the recording process would result in band members trading in their traditional roles, with bassist Nicky Wire at points taking on lead vocals, singer James Dean Bradfield penning lyrics for 'Ocean Spray' in remembrance of his mother’s lost struggle to cancer and drummer Sean Moore returning to the trumpet once again.

Despite being famed for hyperbole, the release would see the band opting for even more outlandish promotional ideas than before, releasing initial singles 'Found That Soul' and 'So Why So Sad' on the same day in an almost self-defeating race to the bottom, a ridiculous stunt that only makes sense had they stuck to Wire’s original concept of having two distinct different records, the calming Door To The River and coarse Solidarity. 

It was a record in retaliation to becoming uncomfortable stars of a fading Britpop scene thanks to previous records Everything Must Go and This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours which had awarded them a seemingly endless number of gongs and trophies. Whereas these Generation Terrorists had set out wanting to topple statues, play the music industry at its own game and burn down capitalism, their mix of melancholy with anthemic strings and emotionally charged indie had unwittingly ushered in an era of decidedly apolitical and eagerly commercial piss poor copycats such as Travis, Keane and even Coldplay. Their colossal success culminated with the historic Manic Millennium, perfectly summarising their career thus far as seen on their documentary Leaving The 20th Century. But after reaching such dizzying came a crashing hangover, and with it the inevitable questioning, and sobering doubts. What comes next? Where can we go from here? What did we do?

They had faced such a crossroads before and been applauded for their efforts. The caustic post punk masterpiece The Holy Bible had similarly been a defiant reaction against the indulges of their own second album Gold Against The Soul. Feeling well of course and threatened by the possibility of being dropped by their label, the then four-piece went all out with a rushed defining statement, wanting to go out on their own terms. Whereas their third LP is lauded as Richey Edwards magnus opus shortly before he disappeared; Know Your Enemy was too unwieldy and incoherent to truly make its mark. Themes of discipline verses decadence, sobriety over hedonism, and their most earnest socialist beliefs are lost in the untamed wilderness of what they now call their Sandinista! album in salute to the similarly eccentric LP by their idols The Clash. They even recognised what a glorious mess it was right from the outset, daubing the cover with collaged graffiti of Welsh artist Neale Howells and playing a launch show in Cuba, the first western band ever granted access to the culturally closed country, knowing the controversy it would cause.

But that isn’t to say that Know Your Enemy was a disaster by any measure upon release in March of 2001. Selling half a million copies and hitting No. 2 in the charts (the second of five Manics albums to unfairly miss the top spot so far), it’s an odd splattering of everything from disco to psychedelic pop, agitprop poetry alongside krautrock, anthemic protest songs and hard-edged punk rock accelerated by the advent of Pro Tools at the time and a pressing need to distance themselves from the cultural centre ground they now found themselves in. For even the most ardent of their devoted fans; there was too many sounds and styles squeezed into sixteen tracks (seventeen if you include the hidden one), making even a double album incomprehensible. Now, with the aid of long-term producer and collaborator Dave Eringa, the trio have ripped the record apart at the seams; not only remixing and remastering the original masters, but also resurrecting it in the way it should have always been.

For those of us so familiar with the original order of the album, the new double format is initially jarring. Instead of opening with clattering rock 'n’ roll riot 'Found That Soul', Door To The River begins with former mid track 'The Year of Purification', which — resplendent as it is in its loathing of “Moral little shit-kickers. Liberal asinine pricks” (perfectly predicting the oncoming era of online furore) — isn’t the same outrageous kickstart. But of course, this is the now the record inspired by Dutch-American Willem de Kooning’s melancholic abstract masterpiece and it perfectly sets the tone for what is now ahead.

We then move on to the forementioned 'Ocean Spray', such a personal snapshot of everyday grief and sadness, that never fails to resonate both live and recorded. What then follows is a handful of former B-sides and deep cuts which now take pride of place as full album tracks. 'So Why So Sad' is now swapped for The Avalanches Sean Penn Mix. 'Door to the River' — formally found as an extra inclusion on greatest hits compilation Forever Delayed — is now stripped of its lush string parts to its vulnerable acoustic bare bones and promoted to a title track, plus swaggering 'Just a Kid' and the delicate 'Groundhog Days' are also now upgraded.

Despite being one of the band’s greatest anthems, 'Let Robeson Sing' suffered from the previously ad hoc approach to production. Now cleaned up and bolstered by double tracking closing vocals “Sing it loud. Sing it Proud. I will be heard. I will be found”, their ode to life and struggles of actor, singer and left-wing activist Paul Robeson shines even brighter. 'Epicentre', Nicky’s navel-gazing at its best, also rises to greater emotional heights thanks to neat little tweaks of the vocals here and the guitar parts there. But the real excitement comes with the inclusion of newly unearthed treasure 'Rosebud', a song about loss, regret and nostalgia so aptly inspired by Orson Welles’ debut masterpiece Citizen Kane. Filled with such roaring stoic passion and forlorn pathos, it’s a wonder it was never used before. But, loaded with themes of lost opportunities and squandered potential now serves as the perfect lead single for this new version of Know Your Enemy. 

Moving onto Solidarity, those of us that love the Manics at their most biting are rewarded with a blistering second half that doesn’t fuck about and immediately dives into 'Intravenous Agnostic', which is now refreshed and rehabilitated to pack a cleaner punch but losing none of its punk rock energy. Raucous 'Found That Soul' now finds a home as second song, leading into former secret track and ramshackle McCarthy cover 'We Are All Bourgeois Now'. 

Subtlety be damned. On the second record we’re treated to a barrage of ferocity and some of my personal all-time favourites such as 'Freedom of Speech Won't Feed My Children', which James has often cited as his choice track of the album. Soaked in contempt, it’s an all-out assault on clueless celebrities who denigrate politics into fashionable causes to dip in and out of, a rallying cry against the hypocrisy of American liberalism and those who bought into the lie of ethical consumption. The U.S. is once again a target for scorn for the snatching of Elián González on motorik polemic 'Baby Elian' and Eringa’s reworkings really bring out Bradfield’s gorgeous guitar sweeps.

...and the Blackwood boys also correct what many felt as a huge mistake by finally bringing 'Masses Against The Classes' into the fold. Previously a standalone single timed for immediate release after the Manic Millennium, it was the first Number 1 single of the new century. Proudly displaying the Cuban flag as a cover, featuring a quote from Noam Chomsky and with its raw, punk energy; 'Masses' is the perfect summarisation of both the sound and soul of Know Your Enemy, and it’s right that it should now be rehomed on Solidarity. However, it is a great shame that 'Royal Correspondent' is now relegated to a mere bonus track, as no other song has ever quite nailed down the odious nature of British deference quite so well, and in this current heyday for toadying monarchists and reactionary Daily Mail readers, it’s so perfectly apt. 

Midway through Solidarity, and everything goes a bit grunge. 'Studies In Paralysis' is the second song to be recovered from the session tapes and it growls with a brooding menace, again begging the question: why was it previously deemed unworthy of even being a B-side? 'Dead Martyrs' meanwhile is the most underrated song in the entire Manic oeuvre, feeling more vital than ever and just begs to be unleashed live. The craziness creeps back in right at the end, but now the schizophrenic 'Wattsville Blues' makes an odd kind of sense celebrating the uninhibited experimentation despite Nicky’s awkward vocal lead. Plus 'Miss Europa Disco Dancer', a satisfying takedown of gurning gap year wankers and hedge fund hedonists, fits perfectly as a closing number. What better way to end an album than a chant of “Braindead motherfuckers”?

It is well worth grabbing a copy of the deluxe 3CD book, and not just because of the insightful liner notes courtesy of author Robin Turner or the incredible live images by the Manic’s photographer of choice Mitch Ikeda. It is also a real joy to revisit such resplendent B-sides as 'Pedestal', 'Fear Of Motion' and 'Locust Valley' once again. 'Ballard Of The Bangkok Novotel' remains as utterly bonkers as before. And it is a true treat to be gifted a glimpse into the creative process via the studio and acoustic demos the led to both the former folly and now ultimately redeemed record.

Manic Street Preachers have always been obsessed with their own legacy and ensuring their place in history, and this has led to many dangerous gambits that have run a real risk of implosion under the weight of their own intensity. It has taken twenty-one years, but both the band and their fans can share the enormous satisfaction that Know Your Enemy has finally been fully realised. What was once just a promising collection of hurried ideas, sprawling concepts and spiteful outbursts has now been honed into a coherent artistic statement, with soothing Door To The River and abrasive Solidarity each conveying a clear sense of character, both contributing to a cohesive whole that can now be truly celebrated.

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More about: Manic Street Preachers