Stadium-rocker's earthy glam-trash debut reaches 20th year and barrage of formats
8/10
For sheer unadulterated relentlessness and spiky 'fuck-you' anthems, Manic Street Preachers have arguably been able to deliver more on one album than most indie fops have achieved in a lifetime. Generation Terrorists first appeared in 1992 at a time when music was dead in the water and floundering in bargain-bins in any record-store you could care to mention. Unless you were Simply Red, Michael Jackson, Cher, 'grunge' or Lionel Richie, chances are your precious vinyl was nestling in a warehouse just off the M4 corridor, waiting to be crushed or, in the case of Curtis Stigers, awaiting the doldrums of being a one-hit wonder.
Twenty years ago, Manic Street Preachers followed up a string of powerful singles with an equally visceral double-set with a sleeve plastered with the image of a tattooed bicep belonging to one Richey Edwards, guitarist and soon-to-be-AWOL icon. The mystery of Edwards' disappearance hangs heavy when listening to anything the man shredded on, but let's wipe the slate clean to imagine this album without the star, the make-up, the myth and the bullshit. Is Generation Terrorists actually any good twenty years on?
From the primordial primeval savagery of Slash 'n' Burn, through to the closing bluster of Condemned to Rock and Roll, Generation Terrorists was possessed of four seething Welshmen on a mission. Musically they resembled many bands that had riffed before - a little Generation X, a tad Marc Bolan, a smidgeon of Saxon, some New York Dolls and a topping of The Cult perhaps, the Manics were nothing if not kings of parody. But what differentiated them from most indie pap at the time were the lyrics. Sure, there's nothing to trouble poet Laureates but songs like Nat West - Barclays - Midlands - Lloyd and first Top 40 hit Stay Beautiful have a ring of relevance about them 20 years on.
And what about the 'hits'? You can't deny that the epic Motorcycle Emptiness is a stormer and, when cuddled up with some of the chugga-chugga-chugga naffness around it, stands head and shoulders above the rest. You Love Us gave them their first Top 20 success, presented here with it's extended hair-swishing metal epilogue while Love's Sweet Exile and Repeat were coupled together as a double A-side giving radio-DJs a choice between broadcasting the word 'masturbation' (on the former) or 'fuck' (on the latter). Little Baby Nothing has an element of Guns N Roses about the intro then wanders into pub-rock territory - not one of their best.
With a few gems tucked away in its grooves, such as their game attempt at recreating the brattish vibes of the original Damn Dog (from the generally risible '80s Times Square movie and recorded by The Sleez Sisters - where did they go?), Generation Terrorists is a double-album that should have been a single, yet oddly stands up as a worthy document of the time two decades later. And there aren't many bands nowadays who would dare treat you to printed quotations drawn from literary geniuses such as Burroughs, Larkin and Chuck D.
The Manics' popularity grew steadily with each subsequent release, kick-started by the bonus-track on the standard CD issue, Theme From M*A*S*H*(Suicide is Painless), a single that calmed everyone down, including the band. By then, the band were planning their next (less enjoyable) album, Gold Against The Soul. Generation Terrorists is still a credible debut-album to indulge in, even if snappy soundbites with the words 'exile', 'beautiful', 'methadone', 'crucifix' and 'suicide' sound somewhat passe. Sleevenotes from Manics biographer Simon Price are typically mellifluous and admirably honest and there's a deluxe edition awaiting your hard-earned capitalist cash.
8/10
Twenty years ago, Manic Street Preachers followed up a string of powerful singles with an equally visceral double-set with a sleeve plastered with the image of a tattooed bicep belonging to one Richey Edwards, guitarist and soon-to-be-AWOL icon. The mystery of Edwards' disappearance hangs heavy when listening to anything the man shredded on, but let's wipe the slate clean to imagine this album without the star, the make-up, the myth and the bullshit. Is Generation Terrorists actually any good twenty years on?
From the primordial primeval savagery of Slash 'n' Burn, through to the closing bluster of Condemned to Rock and Roll, Generation Terrorists was possessed of four seething Welshmen on a mission. Musically they resembled many bands that had riffed before - a little Generation X, a tad Marc Bolan, a smidgeon of Saxon, some New York Dolls and a topping of The Cult perhaps, the Manics were nothing if not kings of parody. But what differentiated them from most indie pap at the time were the lyrics. Sure, there's nothing to trouble poet Laureates but songs like Nat West - Barclays - Midlands - Lloyd and first Top 40 hit Stay Beautiful have a ring of relevance about them 20 years on.
And what about the 'hits'? You can't deny that the epic Motorcycle Emptiness is a stormer and, when cuddled up with some of the chugga-chugga-chugga naffness around it, stands head and shoulders above the rest. You Love Us gave them their first Top 20 success, presented here with it's extended hair-swishing metal epilogue while Love's Sweet Exile and Repeat were coupled together as a double A-side giving radio-DJs a choice between broadcasting the word 'masturbation' (on the former) or 'fuck' (on the latter). Little Baby Nothing has an element of Guns N Roses about the intro then wanders into pub-rock territory - not one of their best.
With a few gems tucked away in its grooves, such as their game attempt at recreating the brattish vibes of the original Damn Dog (from the generally risible '80s Times Square movie and recorded by The Sleez Sisters - where did they go?), Generation Terrorists is a double-album that should have been a single, yet oddly stands up as a worthy document of the time two decades later. And there aren't many bands nowadays who would dare treat you to printed quotations drawn from literary geniuses such as Burroughs, Larkin and Chuck D.
The Manics' popularity grew steadily with each subsequent release, kick-started by the bonus-track on the standard CD issue, Theme From M*A*S*H*(Suicide is Painless), a single that calmed everyone down, including the band. By then, the band were planning their next (less enjoyable) album, Gold Against The Soul. Generation Terrorists is still a credible debut-album to indulge in, even if snappy soundbites with the words 'exile', 'beautiful', 'methadone', 'crucifix' and 'suicide' sound somewhat passe. Sleevenotes from Manics biographer Simon Price are typically mellifluous and admirably honest and there's a deluxe edition awaiting your hard-earned capitalist cash.