Manic Street Preachers: "Motorcycle Emptiness"

27 May 1992 (with the actual Single of the Fortnight here)

"This finally proves that the Manics are much more than simply a punk parody and that they are capable of occasional brilliance. Deserves to be No. 1 for weeks."

— Tom Doyle

"Our manifesto is, 'Don't do it, kids, never get past the age of 13'."

This was the message that Richey Edwards (aka Richey James, aka Richey Manic) communicated to Sylvia Patterson in the 1 April 1992 issue of Smash Hits. It would have been so easy for the songwriter/mediocre guitarist to evoke The Who with his own take on "I hope I die before I get old" but he was acknowledging that he was already cooked at the age of twenty-four. Given what would play out about two-and-a-half years later, this adds weight to Richey's tragic story though it also reinforces his status as an all-time pop one-off.

I've only ridden on motorbikes a handful of times in my life, mostly in Thailand and Indonesia. Given that I'm uncomfortable enough behind the wheel of a car and I even feel nervous on a bicycle, it will surprise no one who knows me even a little that I was a passenger. A very jittery passenger who took no pleasure in the speed and abandon that is supposed to come with being on the back of a hog; my sole wish was to be off these death traps as soon as possible.

With this in mind, I feel I have a worthy perspective on "Motorcycle Emptiness". They may be symbols of freedom to some but in my mind they only provide the freedom for me to kill myself. Of course, this doesn't have that much to do with the song itself beyond it's most basic level but the best pop is meant to be something we can identify with so that's good enough for me. Where I align with Richey, James Dean Bradfield, Sean Moore and Nicky Wire is in recognizing the illusion of this supposed freedom people evidently get from gunning it well over the speed limit, recklessly weaving between vehicles, running red lights and riding down sidewalks whenever the mood strikes (this is what I observe motorcyclists doing on a daily basis). One might expect these throwbacks to glam rock, punk and metal to be sympathetic with the biker element but this was a quartet of Welsh lads who went to university and were keen to opine on anything they felt like and hated rock 'n' roll cliches. Like motorbikes.

Tom Doyle expresses some surprise that Manic Street Preachers have something so accomplished in them but if we go back to the Patterson interview, it's clear they were deep individuals who liked to cosplay as moronic rock stars. The piece starts with an anecdote from the Irish Music Awards in which they behaved so boorishly that a rep from their own record label denounced them, the irony of which wasn't lost on them ("They signed us up for loads of money for being what we are and now they expect us to start dressing like them and looking as chronically ugly and boring as them with their crap haircuts and no brains," reckoned an ever perceptive Richey). Their manifesto of kids remaining kids for life free from "wanting things, acquiring things" and the fallacy that "your life will be better if you get a new video game or a new bike, etc, etc".

We look at famous and/or wealthy people and often take pity on them for only caring about their riches and their possessions but this mindset affects many of us living on far more modest means. Richey was probably even being naive in implying that we're done for by the time we hit our teens; kids, too, get obsessed about getting more toys or treats or getting to go to a movie theatre rather than renting a video or having dessert even when they barely touched their dinner. Sure, kids aren't as corrupted as adults but the majority of them are well on their way before they even start going to school.

I'm not the biggest Manics' backer but I will admit that they're strength was in ideas that are seldom broached. Morrissey and Jarvis Cocker are lauded for capturing youthful tedium but the greater achievement is in making a point that transcends the diary entries and school poetry journals. The very idea of "Motorcycle Emptiness" would never have occurred to me at the time and I daresay I wasn't alone in that regard. This is how to become the voice of a generation.

With soaring melodies, crunchy guitars, those subtle strings Doyle alludes to, Moore's powerful drumming and Bradfield's trademark voice you can't quite sing along with, "Motorcycle Emptiness" was quickly identified as a classic and a big step forward for a band who many had been quick to underestimate. They only ever got it right some of the time but when they were on no one could touch them. Manic Street Preachers: easily the best band that I'm not a fan of.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Crowded House: "Four Seasons in One Day"

There were a lot of those bizarre El Nino summers back in the nineties. We'd get afternoon showers at ten in the morning. It could be warm and pleasant one day and then be wet and miserable the next (though it never seemed to go the other way). Songwriters Neil and Tim Finn likely didn't have this in mind, even though it had been written in Melbourne, a city notorious for weather that can throw everything at a person in just a few hours. Crowded House sure had the market cornered when it came to songs about meteorology as this followed "Weather with You" into the UK charts and they even carried it forward somewhat a year later with "Distant Sun". Doyle isn't keen, thinking it sounds like the kind of thing "your long-haired hippy art teacher" would enjoy. (I'll have you know, Tom, that Mr. Coutts had really good taste in music) Granted, "Four Seasons in One Day" isn't one of their bangers but it's nice all the same and reliably good fare from the band you quite like but really ought to love.