NOTHING TO CLING TO

August 1991 to December 1992

Black Barn Studios in Surrey offer just that: a black barn. Close to the M25 near Woking, and set in picturesque countryside, this was the high-priced setting for the Manic Street Preachers' first album. The sessions were expected to take eight weeks but ended up lasting almost three times that as the recording costs rose from a planned maximum of £400,000 to over £500,000. The band had enough material from their teenage years to record eighteen tracks for the album, which had the planned title of Culture, Alienation, Boredom and Despair. Steve Brown arrived to start work with the band in August 1991.

Richey Edwards was going through a rough period and living the rock star's life a little too much for his own good. With the band working in the studies he had nothing to do and the safety net of his constant companions taken away from him. His guitar playing had shown no signs of improving and he'd shown no interest in wanting to spend time practising. Left to his own devices, he was starting to show signs of losing control. The now-defunct Select magazine reported that, 'In the studio Richey indulged in every kind of abuse. He cried a lot. And although he seemed able to sort himself out again quite easily, James was more worried about him than he had ever been before. It became common knowledge around this time that Richey had told James that if the band ever split up, he would have nothing left.? Edwards' insecurities were heightened with the band in the studio because, quite simply, he'd done his bit. His lyrics were complete and he wasn't playing guitar in the studio. Practising his guitar was out of the questions: it had no musical use to him.

Matt Olliver was working at Black Barn. ?They?re just really lovely people,? he said at the time. ?As far as I can tell, they don?t do any drugs. They read a lot, and they play computer games.? Olliver was called upon early in the sessions to act as a driver one time when Richey had been drinking and so couldn?t drive. Guns?N?Roses were issuing two albums on the same day: Use Your Illusion I and Use Your Illusion II. Edwards managed to talk Olliver into driving him, in his bashed-up old mini, to Tower records in London, which was opening at midnight to sell the albums straight away. Then they rushed back to play them. ?We stayed up all night playing those albums,? said Nicky Wire. ?It was really bad, because the first side of Use Your Illusion I is terrible, and we were like, ?Fucking hell, what?s gone wrong???

The studio was relatively secluded, so Edwards had nowhere to go unless he was driven into London. From his earlier involvement in the band, his role was very different to most rock stars. He wrote the words, some with Nicky Wire, some alone, and the pair added and made suggestion to each other?s work. The lyrics were then passed on to James Dean Bradfield and Sean Moore, who wrote all the music. Edwards was not involved with the music writing, nor was he deemed good enough to actually play or sing on the album. So in the studio he just wasn?t needed. In the pre-contract days, he?d make himself useful by at least chauffeuring the others around but even that role was now fading away. When news leaked out that Edwards hadn?t played a single note on the album, there was a mixture of amazement and anger. Was he faking it?

?Why is everyone hung up on an ugly piece of wood and metal and strings?? he countered. ?I can?t play guitar very well, but I wanna make guitar look lethal.? That was Edwards to a T: vain as ever, he just wanted to look good. This attitude led to his being sometimes unfairly compared to the likes of Sid Vicious and Bez. ?This guy out of [Manchester band] The High came up and started talking to me about an interview he?d done just about his guitar and equipment; when I told him I?m not interested and that James plays my guitar on the record he went mad,? recalled Edwards. ?He was going, "There ought to be a union to stop people like you?.? That kind of reaction was clearly over the top. It wasn't as though Richey was doing a Milli Vanilli and duping the fans into thinking he could really play; he was quite open and honest about his place in the band. Indeed, he revelled in the tact that he couldn?t play. Taunting others that he looked good on stage simply holding a guitar was a source of pleasure, at least for the time being. Again, his image was everything, image was important to the band as a whole, but the other three could just about back it up when playing live. Nicky Wire was the least proficient musician, but James Dean Bradfield was developing into a mesmerising lead guitarist and Scan Moore was a solid if largely anonymous drummer.

As the sessions dragged on, Sony decided that they needed to keep the band in the public eye with another single. With the album taking longer than expected, the band had gone almost six months without releasing anything new. The choice for the new single was the double A-side of 'Repeat' and 'Love's Sweet Exile?.

The Manics headed into London to appear on the late-night Channel 4 show ?he Word. They practised a run-through of the relatively safe 'Love's Sweet Exile' to pacify the show's producers, but they thrashed out a version of 'Repeat' live on the show. Edwards was resplendent in a red blouse, with James Dean Bradfield outshining him in a gold one. The band was surrounded by over-enthusiastic, look-at-me-I?m-on-TV moshing. The single confirmed the Manics? gradual progression and edged into the Top 30, boosted by a slick video. With the Sony budget behind them, the band could really go to town with their videos ? a natural extension of their visual image that was being cultivated through their photo shoots and stage show. Although Richey played little or no part in the recording studio, he was front and centre when it came to a video shoot. Edwards had already hinted at the band's favoured icons in ?You Love Us'; now he started the literary education of the Manics' fans with the video's opening sequence, which featured a stark, black quote on a white background:

'Then came human beings,

they wanted to cling

but there was nothing to cling to'

Camus

As the song began, the camera panned across Edwards' 'Useless Generation' tattoo as the drums started, before a melange of homoerotic black-and-white footage of Richey Edwards and Nicky Wire all over each other. Topless and lipsticked. Eyelinered and clutching. Edwards accosts the camera, leaving a lipstick smear on the lens. A large metal crucifix hangs across his bare chest. Then he's in a gas mask. Then the footage turns negative with cheap psychedelic special effects edited in as the background, just like the typiad backdrop to The Word every Friday night. Edwards and Wire were always experimenting with their 'look' and neither was averse to some make-up and a blouse, something that Bradiield and Moore always looked like they were tolerating rather than enjoying.

While Wire outdid Edwards by going the whole way and wearing dresses, Edwards managed to outdo his partner in the make-up stakes. He could carry off a see-through blouse much better and, anyhow, Richey Edwards had always been in touch with his feminine side. Back at Oakdale Comprehensive, this had been apparent. Jonathan Medcroft was in the same school year as Richey and recalled, 'He was kind of androgynous even then. There were early signs of anorexia. I mean, in Wales you don't find that high cheekbones occur naturally?you need to starve yourself.? Richey himself told the Melody Maker that he wanted his band to sound like the Sex Pistols but to look like Duran Duran, who had worn plenty of make-up in the early 1980s. He answered questionnaires about his favourite make-up (Rimmel eyeliner) and explained that when he put up pictures of Kate Moss, who he'd seen in The Face in 1989, it wasn't because he wanted to sleep with her; he wanted to be her. His Liz Taylor haircut was a homage to the actress. The press even ran stories about Edwards wanting to save up enough money for plastic surgery to turn himself into Diana Ross.

The final stages of the recording sessions were documented by Edwards in a brief diary commissioned by Select magazine. It revealed the day-to-day activities of this guitarist that didn't play his guitar. Edwards' average day started with a breakfast of bottled water, tomato and cheese, before a car would arrive from CBS/Sony to drop him off in Fulnam. Then he'd attend to the band's fan mail. Some days he would take the company credit card, get chauffeured into London, spend money and come back that night covered in love bites after visiting Soho strip clubs. One of the places he'd often visit was The Ship pub on Wardour Street. It was there that he was spotted by The Damned's Rat Scabies, who told Mick Middles, ?I do recall this guy, a geeky rock'n'roll guy. One of those people who you would always sort of see around yet never quite know what he did. Looking lost and famous.? He was getting more famous and he was also in danger of getting lost. He was going through a phase where be wouldn't spend free time buried in a book, but he'd wander, spend money from the band account and generally waste his days away. The worrying thing is that he was well aware of his slide, but didn't seem to want ? or be able ? to do anything to halt it. Edwards knew that the constant spending and deliberate time-wasting was taking a toll. ?I know that if I get to the end of this year I'll have no dignity left at all,? he said. 'It's all gone. I live in a big fantasy world. All I do is get into the company Mercedes, drive to London; drive around for five or six hours then come back to the studio. It's sad.? He'd often end the day drinking even more to block out the world and allow him to get to sleep. Being a rock star wasn't turning out to be as challenging or exciting as he'd dreamed back in his Blackwood bedroom.

On ? day that James Dean Bradfield made Edwards practise, he wrote that it 'Spoils my day.' He'd much rather spend his time reading the latest Silver Surfer comics and playing on his Megadrive, 'It treats me better than most people do,? he said about his gaming console. ?Also I think how shit everyone is who still owns a Nintendo. It has been my duty to practise six hours a day. Fuck my guitar.' The new found ability to buy whatever he wanted when he wanted it, within reason, wasn't as great as he sometimes pretended it to be. Deep down he knew it was a way of hiding the emptiness of his life. 'The more days you get, the more empty you feel,? he admitted. 'The only time you're really happy is when you're really young before you want anything.?

Richey's love of comics stemmed from his childhood, the time when everything was good in his life. This might also have explained his obsession with computer and video games. Richey: 'You know the myth of Stagger Lee, that he would kill for a Stetson? The Manic Street Preachers would kill for a Sega Mcgadrive.? The man who wished he'd had a never-ending childhood would spend hours playing games. 'In a video game you can murder, maim, and impoverish thousands, you ?an create and destroy whole populations,? he explained. 'Put four people playing guitars next to that, and it has to be boring!' He would often mention in interviews what his latest game purchases were or how well he was progressing at a certain game. 'It took me a couple of weeks to do it: t? get to the end and kill Doctor Robotik,' he said, 'I should be interested in learning to play guitar, but Sonic the Hedgehog rules my life. I find that very sad.? Other favourite titles included Decap Attack, Kid Chameleon and PGA Golf. The others liked to play, too. In Japan in 1993, Edwards declared that he could 'beat anyone on Sony games. Anyone, Anywhere,? and explained that James Dean Bradfield 'likes the fighting games' and that Sean Moore had spent 24,000 yen on games during the trip (about £120).

'We had out Sega Megadrive when we were down the studio making [Generation Terrorists] and we were spending hours a day playing because it's so engrossing,? Edwards told Q magazine. 'But it's so sad that the best human minds on the planet are just trying to invent characters like Sonic the Hedgehog.? Almost as sad as some of the best minds in pop music spending more hours playing with them. Edwards' riser-sharp mental agility was being blunted by the shunning of a classic read for another hour in front of his gaming console.

***

Back in the studio, while the others were recording, Edwards would drink, chew his nails and occasionally cut himself. He decided to decorate the studio with collages and took on the responsibility of the album's artwork, on which he referred to himself as Richey James. Once the idea of the Guy Debord sandpaper sleeve had been discounted, be began visiting London galleries for inspiration. The Charles D'Offay Gallery, the Spink Gallery and Ryan Art were some of his favourite places to view. Many of the pieces that caught his eye had religious or pop icon imagery. He was interested in getting permission for Bert Stern's defaced photograph of Marilyn Monroe, Andres Serrano's Piss Christ, Rodin's Je Suis Belle (I Am Beautiful), Clarence Laughlin's photograph Spectre of Coca Cola, Grunewald's Crucifixion and Dali's Christ of Saint John of the Cross were all refused permission or priced too highly for consideration.[17] Instead, he settled on the idea of using his own tattoo. He'd had a rose inked onto his upper arm with the slogan 'Useless Generation' written below, for the new album title, this slogan would be airbrushed over to read Generation Terrorists. Veteran rock photographer Tom Sheehan took the photo of Richey's arm and the cover was finalised. Another photographer to visit the sessions was Tim Jarvis, who took hand portraits with a backdrop of Richey's collages behind them. Edwards was caught leaning back into a corner, in his sleeveless, black printed T-shirt and uniform tight white jeans. His '4REAL' scar was still visible below the 'Useless Generation' tattoo. His look was all eyeliner, dyed black hair and assorted metal bangles with a cross on a string around his neck. By his side was a small table littered with empty Smirnoff bottles, which were full of dead and dying yellow chrysanthemums. The walls behind him were plastered with Axl Rose, the Stones, Warhol and assorted pop art images. There hung Jean Harlow, Sophia Loren, Katherine and Audrey Hepburn. Paul Newman and Liz Taylor. Bardot, Lydon and Henry Miller. Collecting these images on a wall was a very teenage thing to do. It could be argued that the cut-and-paste technique was all the Manics had behind them at the time. A band that had looked through the history of rock and ripped out the bits they liked best and tried to emulate them, but ? as the world would soon discover ? without doing a particularly good job on it. Along with his video-gaming obsession, reading of comics end literal cut-and-paste aesthetic, Edwards was all the signs of simply wanting to prolong his childhood. These traits seemed to have grown while the band was marking on the album and were another sign that Edwards wet already becoming disappointed with the rock star life. Childhood had long been known to be the time of life he?d enjoyed best and now he was almost regressing to it.

On the last day of the Black Barn sessions, Wednesday, 4 December, Edwards got up to collect the day's music press and then went back to bed for the day, not even bothering to pop his head into the studio. He eventually got up to watch the Six O?Clock News, then began ripping down his collages. He carried out the scraps of paper and deposited them on a pile with hit clothes and other items that would remind him of the session. Then he set them alight, white playing Hanoi Rocks' ?Don?t You Ever Leave Me? on a constant loop to accompany his ritualistic bonfire.

Edwards was more excited about the location for the mixing for the mixing of the album ? London's Hit Factory, which was where The Clash had produced their debut album. While mixing, the band was invited to stay at Steve Brown's Wandsworth mansion and Richey Edwards was given a bed under framed pictures of Wham! and The Cult, with whom Brown had previously worked. Edwards participated just as little here as he had done at Black Barn, 'It in tiring staying in bed all day,? he commented. The solitude of being in one's bedroom alone was attractive to Edwards, however, and he had already started to mention his admiration for J.D. Salinger and his withdrawal to his ?bunker?.

One of the claims that the Manics made, and actually kept to, was that their debut album would be a double LP. The eighteen-track collection (the US version was cut to fourteen tracks) was a decent, if broadly unspectacular debut. If they had exhibited a little more quality-control and released a ten- or twelve-track album, it would have been tighter. This was basic punk-glam-metal-rock, with not a love song in sight. Listening back now on CD, the ebbs and flows of the album are lost somewhat compared to the four sides of the original vinyl version, which open up with ?Slash?n?Burn?, ?Love?s Sweet Exile?, ?Another Invented Disease? and ?Damn Dog? respectively.

Richey Edwards took great pains to pick a hterafy quote to accompany each song on the album's inner sleeve. For the concerned listener, these often helped decode what the song was actually about, and ? with four sides of vinyl to fill ? he?d been able to cover a lot of ground. No one else in rock was pushing fans towards books. Edwards carefully chose quotes that helped capture his thoughts about culture and his reclines of alienation, boredom and despair. This was a complete package for disaffected youth. This was the album that Richey Edwards would have wanted to be able to buy two years before, when he wanted some hope that others felt like he did and felt that flaunting intelligence was not a bad thing. The classic dual-guitar opening attack of 'Slash?n?Burn' used a quote by e. e. cummings to reveal that Edwards was presenting a stunted treatise on the scorched-earth policies used in the Third World. Many of the album's lyrics were abstract. ?We took the abortion language of the Sun and turned it to our own means,' explained Edwards. ?Anyone of our generation isn't conditioned to think about one thing. You're always flicking TV channels, always switching radio stations. For us to sit down and write a song about something would be so forced.?

'Born to End? was a nihilistic, if noisy, effort with Arthur Rimbaud[18] rambling on about his purging of all human hope. The nineteenth-century dead poet was another hero that had been added to Edwards? list of suicides and vanishings. The fact that Rimbaud threw everything away at a young age, just as fame was about to overwhelm him, struck a chord deep within Edwards. It was the perfect gesture, as far as he was concerned. That Rimbaud managed to re-invent himself away from the limelight after doing so was the cherry on top.

'Motorcycle Emptiness', with Sylvia Plath looking for help and finding none, comes next. This was one of the Manic Street Preachers older songs and the words had been a real collaborative effort between Edwards and Wire. They'd sat around Wire's bedroom and literally worked through it together, line-by-line. Despite the suggestions of the title this wasn't a helmet-less ride across an American desert, but a song about living a comatose life. Musically, it didn't fit in with the rest of the album ? Richard Cottle's keyboards helped to give it the cinematic edge and almost two decades later it's still one of the band's best songs. During one take of 'Love?s Sweet Exile?, an inebriated Richey Edwards was goading Bradfield into playing ever-faster guitar solos. 'Go on, play the fastest guitar solo you've ever played, play millions of notes,' he chided. Bradfield did just that, but afterwards admitted, ?I'm ashamed of myself.'

'Little Baby Nothing' was an ambitious idea, which Richey managed to pull off. The lyric was a female take on the male exploitation of women and required a female singer for part of the vocals. Kylle Minogue was considered but, after they had failed to come to an agreement, Richey got in touch with Traci Lords, the ex-teen porn star,[19] and sent her the words. She liked what she read and flew in to see the band play at the Diorama in London on 13 December, then added her vocals. The song was one of the better efforts on the album, with an epic, American feel and keyboards that were reminiscent of Springsteen is his 1970s pomp. And surprisingly, Lords could actually sing. Apart from recruiting Lords, Richey Edwards' contributions to the song included a day spent trolling back and forth through a video cassette of A Streetcar Named Desire looking for a section of dialogue to sample.

The second disc of the album starts to drag and the 73-minute running time is just too long. Overall, the album addressed many concerns about beauty and disgust, escape and suicide. Knowing Richey Edwards' personality, interests and lifestyle, it's easy to pick out lines that describe his life at that time. His drinking to waste time at the sessions: 'A line of vodka tears inside/A shot of boredom helps my mind' ? ?Condemned to Rock'n'Roll'; using his brainpower as a weapon: 'You're gonna pay for my intelligence' ? 'So Dead'; and his constant self-cutting: 'Get some pain and feel alive' ?'Born to End'. The clues are all there.

***

Much was riding on the album. Sony had taken a big gamble and there was no guarantee that it would sell. Small crowds at their gigs was one problem; that their videos had failed to make a significant impact on the music channels was another. Outside the music press and its devoted readers, few people in the country actually knew who the band were. There was also the small matter of having rubbed up various music journalists the wrong way, and others in the 'community' not knowing what to expect of them when they were interviewed. Through 1992, one by one the members of the press who met them realised that they were in fact polite, well-spoken young men and not raging, hotel-room trashing weirdos. They also had to deal with a measure of mickey-taking. 'Taff Alert!! Hey, hey, it's the Janet Street Porters,' said one headline. A spoof analysis of the album claimed that the song titles included 'Motorcycle Sluts on Methadone' and 'Motorcycle Lipstick Holocaust Victim'. At the end of 1991 they'd also been called the 'Bash Street Kids' alongside the question, ?The Most Hated Band in Britain?'

The album would most likely have received better reviews if they'd kept their mouths shut during the previous year, but they would also probably have received fewer reviews, too. Isn't any publicity good publicity? For many critics, the release of Generation Terrorists was just what they had been waiting for. The Manics were going to fall liar on their faces and they would be the first to say 'we told you so'. 'You promise the greatest album ever, then what do you do?' asked Select. Despite the album being given a lukewarm reception, reviewer Richard Lowe gave it '3/5', pointing out that the Masks had introduced lost values back into the world of rock: arrogance, mouthing-off, dressing-up. 'It's a shame they're not good enough to pull it off,? he closed. In the more sympathetic NME, Barbara Ellen was given a full page to review the album. She wisely pointed out that the LP was 'destined to be panned severely both for a variety of very good reasons and a plethora of silly sulky ones'. It was finally given ? maximum ?10? with the caveat 'People who steer too dose to the sun often get their wings melted...so stuff the marking system.'

The split in opinions was highlighted on the 15 February NME front cover, which asked 'Do you really, sincerely love THE MANIC STREET PREACHERS (or do you want to kick their heads in?)'

During 1992, the likes of Jimmy Nail, Wet Wet Wet and Right Said Fred all topped the UK singles chart. It was no wonder that the grunge movement heralded the return of guitars. The Manics? contribution was to release a re-recorded version of 'You Love Us' and embark on a year of frantic touring and self-promotion. Edwards spoke out against criticism of the band reissuing a single and explained that they'd only pressed three thousand copies of the Heavenly version and that this was long sold out, plus the band had re-recorded it with Steve Brown. The Manics had also been gives a healthy budget of £40,000 to film a new video for the song, and the enigmatic 'Wiz' directed it. It featured black and white footage of the band ? especially Wire and Edwards ? heavily glammed-up. Edwards was shown strutting around and pouting like some prima donna with a feather boa, gold lamé shirt and a ton of make?-up. The set was a cross between a fashion show catwalk and live stage with a back-screen showing oversized portraits of communist leaders, Malcolm X and other political figures. Some out-takes from the filming included Edwards strutting down the catwalk with his guitar being pulled along behind him ? a direct comment on himself being eye-candy in the band rather than an actual musician. He also wore a wedding dress, with a hand grenade in his mouth ? a not-so-subtle comment on his views about marriage. Footage that wasn't cut out included Richey writhing around on the floor, suggestively rubbing his chest while stuffed into the top of his unbuttoned trousers was a mini TV showing an atomic bomb exploding in his underpants. For the filming, Edwards had stashed a bottle of sherry behind his amp and by the end of the shoot, was, in the words of Nicky Wire, 'Gone!' When Edwards and Wire rubbed together, cheek-to-cheek, their white-stencilled blouses matched up to spell out 'suicide babies', while they fed each other oysters and generally played the homoerotic card again. The video ended with the fashion photographers rushing the stage. As the stage empties, the giant words across the back-screen read 'FAKE'.

The band showed up again on Top of the Pops to promote 'You Love Us'. Unfortunately the BBC studio crowd didn't love them and stood around, slightly confused at the spectacle before them. Generation Terrorists was released a couple of weeks later, reaching number 13 in the album charts and building up sales of 300,000. Given that the band had been talking about selling sixteen million and then breaking up, this nevertheless fell short of expectations. As for ending the tour at Wembley stadium, well, that didn't quite happen either. Instead, the first leg of the tour was scheduled to terminate at Northampton Roadmenders. Having made the headlines with their initial predications of success, the band weren't afraid to backtrack in the press. 'Our ego has always been way ahead of our bounds,? commented Nicky Wire. 'We have no sense of proportion at all. But we still think it'll happen.'

'We read all the classic rock books, which make everything out to be so fast,? added Richey Edwards. 'You're meant to explode, but that never happens.' Already he was learning that rock stardom wasn't all it was claimed to be ? another realisation in what would become a long list of disappointments making up the fabric of adult life. Going out with a bang was good in theory but the reality was somewhat more prosaic.

The tour included venues such as polytechnics, small clubs and large pubs in various suburban locations. In concert, the Generation Terrorists songs were given a 'metal' edge in terms of their sound, as showcased at the Astoria in London on 20 February when a Japanese TV crew filmed the show. Audiences were growing compared to the previous year and Richey was often singled out for attention. He seemed to attract the more alternative fans, and even gothic types. He was getting his own sub-cult of largely female admirers. They'd arrive at gigs with '4REAL' written on their forearms in marker pen and enter venues early to crowd around the front of his side of the stage. As the tour progressed, so did the band's media profile and Richey's cult. In Germany, a female fan drove into the tour bus and abandoned her car just so that she could get Richey's autograph. The band's set would usually be over in less than an hour, cramming all nine singles and an occasional cover version into their frantic performance.

Edwards and Wire could also be found at after-show flirty ?$? ussmg make up tips with teenage girK. 'We get loads of girls at our gigs,' said Edwards. 'We get criticised for that because ????le think that's too poppy, "Oooh, you've got girl fans", so we can?t possibly be serious. That is so patronising because these people are saying that girls aren't real fans, like they can't possibly like or understand the music and they're not going to have fifteen pints of lager, have a big mosh down the front and have a carry on the way home. And they should be at home reading Jackie and thinking about blokes. It's crap! In terms of sensitivity and intelligence, girls understand so much more than men. How that can condemn fifty per cent of the population of the entire world is completely beyond me.'

The high proportion of female fans also meant that there were more women willing to hang around stage doors and after-show parties as well. For someone like Richey, this ensured that he had a never-ending line of willing partners for a night. ?I interviewed him in a motel in Birmingham and I saw them play at Birmingham University,? recalls John Robb. 'In the interview him and Nicky talked about life on the road and the way they would have girls in the same room; one would fall asleep whilst the other had sex ? they talked about it in an almost detached way, it seemed quite rock?n?roll but not in a demeaning way.' Edwards also told Robb that his never-ending queue of willing partners meant he could 'fuck the girls to fill a void'. Edwards was drinking plenty by this stage, but wasn't dependent on alcohol. He didn't smoke and the band had kept their initial pledge to avoid drugs. Richey would spend ages getting himself made-up before a show: it was like going out far a glammed-up night on the town, but he'd have to interrupt his night by standing on stage for ninety minutes in the middle of it before the partying could recommence.

Edwards was careful to remain detached from the girls in these encounters, as he saw the route of relationships as a downward spiral to a life he just didn't want. It became an issue that would eat away inside him. Later on he would say he wanted a relationship because he saw those around him settling down and being happy, thinking that a steady girlfriend might make him happy too. But for now he was convinced it was the worst thing that could happen to him. ?Once you fall in love, or get your girlfriend pregnant, or fall into credit, you've got no chance, you've got responsibilities,? he said. ? There's no way you can ever do anything. Once you get reduced to a couple, alone together between your four walls with your TV set, you're cut off.'

He told Melody Maker's Sally Margaret Joy that 'Love is an impossible concept', and she witnessed him take two girls back to his room because they told him they'd shagged members of Dogs D?Amour the night before. He was quite open about his promiscuity. In a joint interview with Nicky Wire, he talked about taking a girl back to his room after a show: 'the little voice in the night "I'll never see you again, Richey'", 'Yeah, I've heard that.?

***

The irish Recorded Music Association awards, or IRMAs for short, are effectively the Irish equivalent of the BRIT Awards. In April 1992, the Manics were invited at short notice to attend this live TV event. The day before, they had done a Smash Hits photo-shoot but then instead of sitting down for a pre-arranged interview with the teen mag, they had to fly out to Dublin. They invited the Smash Hits writer to go along with them. On the Saturday of the awards event the rest of the band had found the hotel bar and settled in to watch the Wales vs. England rugby match ? leaving Richey to handle the interview. Four and a half hours later, he finally stopped talking. The interview covered everything from pop culture, his hatred of Sony (?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'), and his frankly disturbing message for younger readers not to reach their teenage years.

The night the band played 'You Love Us? and ended the song by smashing up their kit, to which co-host Gerry Ryan made a sarcastic comment. At the after-show party, James Dean Bradfield thought that Dave Fanning, the other host, had made the comment and the two almost came to blows. Bradfield, the rest of the band, and their accompanying Sony contingent were unceremonious kicked out by the bouncers. The party bad already featured childish but harmless messing around, with Nicky Wire bursty the table balloons and Richey Edwards depositing three bottles ofi wine in an ice cooler and then tipping it onto the floor. After they were thrown out and returned to the Berkeley Court Hotel, things got worse: Nicky Wire was ejected from the bar for wandering around in only his boxer shorts and later Richey got into a fight about Catholicism with some random businessman staying in the hotel. This was out-of-character behaviour for Edwards because ? no matter how drunk he was ? he would usually rather stand at the bar and engage in political or ethical conversations as well as shooting the breeze about some brand of eyeliner or the latest single by so-and-so. Perhaps, in this instance, religion had touched a nerve.

Back on the road, a few dates in Europe preceded the first big trip to North America. The tour started in Montreal before moving down the USA's East Coast then across to California, but they only took in a handful of major cities. At New Yolk's CBGBs, they were witnessed by Rolling Stone writer David Fricke, who pointed out the contradictions of the Manics but who could also perceive the promise hidden under the hype. ?Are the Manics the only ones who don't see the irony of railing against the economic fascism of NatWest, Barclays and Lloyds while enjoying the generous bankrolling of Sony?' he asked. 'You love Us? Not Hardly. At least not yet.?

In Los Angeles, the band arrived in the wake of the riots that had exploded after the Rodney King verdict had been delivered and tensions were still running high. The NME were following the Manics' American tour and put the band on the cover once they reached the West Coast. 'To Live and Dai in LA' said the headline in reference to the riots. The cover photo, taken in front of the Disneyland sign, showed Richey Edwards looking like a crazed monk or a boxer in his white hoodie and shades, pre-dating Slim Shady by years and adding a chain around his neck, hanging to his navel and a dozen or so metal bangles on his left wrist. Local radio station KROQ was playing ?Slash'n'Burn' in relation to the riots, but Edwards pointed out that it had actually been written about third-world economics and deforestation policy.

The highlight of the mini-tour was the show at the world-famous Whisky A Go Go. Members of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Guns?N'Roses and Bon Jovi were curious enough to attend the show. But rather than refit in the attention, Richey was depressed about what he was seeing in the USA and his self-abuse was escalating. Stuart Bailie was a first-hand witness to Richey suffering an allergic reaction to tequila: it aimed his arms to swell and turn pink, highlighting the multitude of fresh burns, scars and lesions ? something he called the 'road maps of anger turned inwards'.

The band visited Disneyland for the NME and then drove through post-riot Compton. During an interviews Edwards started idly unfolding a paperclip and then began slowly and almost absent-mindedly gouging the palm of his own hand. After a few minutes the interviewer had to stop the recording, upset with what she was witnessing.

Part of the 1992 tour had The Wildhearts[20] opening for the Manics. It was noted that Edwards was either quiet and withdrawn or almost constantly in the presence of Nicky Wire. Wildhearts frontman Ginger: ?I don't recall Rkhey speaking much on tour probably because he couldn't get a decent conversation out of many people on the road. One major part of Richey's character was being hyper-intelligent. Journalists couldn't spar with him on words because he would have made mincemeat out of them.? Danny ???ormack was The Wildhearts' bassist and toured with the Manics more than once. 'Richey and Nicky were inseparable at one point ? you'd never ever see them alone,? he recalled. 'It was like two big leopard-skin jackets walking towards you. I could tell they were a very close band.?

Another non-musical task that Rkhey took to was liaising with the fans through the band's newsletter. He?d often provide a manifesto statement to be sent out, all capital letters and literary rhetoric. In May 1992, he wrote about life on the road overseas: NOT A BRAIN CELL ON THE WHOLE STREET. LOS ANGELES TURNED FROM RIOT TO LOOTING TO RACISM AND PREJUDICE. THERE?S NO DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SELECTED AND DESTROYED KOREAN BUSINESS ? 1992. AND BURNT OUT JEWISH BUSINESSES ? 1933.

He also wrote that Japan was the biggest culture shock, ?just because it?s organised'. In Japan, the band received their biggest overseas reception yet. Edwards was thrown into a maelstrom of attention, the likes of which he'd never experienced before. Fans had made their own Richey dolls and followed the Manns everywhere, camping outside the band's hotels at all hours. While they were in Tokyo, the video for the next single, 'Motorcycle Emptiness', was filmed. With Martin Hall directing, and lacking a permit to film, the band remained on the move and were shot in a variety of outdoor settings so as to stay ahead of the police. Edwards took part by standing motionless, looking like a prettier Paul Westerberg; denim jacket, shades and tousled hair. Under the neon Blade Runner signs or sitting in his hotel room window sill, looking down on the city with his knees pulled up to his chest, Edwards was the song personified, happy to play the part of the pouting depressed outsider, which sometimes he was.

The posters advertising 'Motorcycle Emptiness' were black and white photos of each of the band members sitting on hotel beds: Nicky Wire in leopard print and shades gazing up at the ceiling; Sean Moore sitting cross-legged, staring straight into the camera; James Dean Bradfield strumming his guitar; Richey slumped against the wall with his knees pulled up, either pissed or depressed ? or both. Released on 1 June, the song became the band's best-selling single to date and breached the UK Top 20. Edwards was playing the part of rock star and for once seemed to be enjoying it. The Japanese fans also found his politeness endearing ? this was a quality not often exhibited by visiting Western rock stars. Being mobbed whenever he went out and having his every whim catered for was bound to inflate any ego, and in this respect Edwards was no different.

A series of summer festival appearances followed. The Manics knew that playing festivals was a valuable way to reach a wider audience. At these events they knew that they could be heard by people who wouldn't usually attend a Manics show, perhaps because they thought the band were a bunch of hyped-up wankers. Their mailbag that summer proved that when people actually heard them play live, they could be converted. At Reading the band walked out into the early evening sunshine to a tape of Marilyn Monroe singing ?I Wanna Be Loved by You', just as Richey Edwards' nemesis, the Levellers, were playing to the next field. His July manifesto addressed this in a piece he opened with: 'SOME THOUGHTS ON CRUSTIES WITH CREDIT CARDS. ME, I'M GONNA GO AND WASH, GET CLEAN AND PLAY A CD. WHY DON'T YOU STAY PURE TO YOUR PRINCIPLES AND ONLY RECORD IN MONO YOU LUDDITE THATCHER CHILDREN. YOU ARE BRITAIN'S CULTURAL CHERNOBYL.?

During the summer the band had been approached to contribute a track to the forthcoming NME compilation Ruby Trax, which was being assembled to celebrate the fortieth anniversary of the newspaper. Forty bands were asked to record cover versions of number one singles from the previous four decades. In a contrary moment, Richey Edwards decided he wanted the Manics to record the 1975 Bay City Rollers hit 'Bye Bye Baby'[21] but he was over?ruled and instead the band chose 'Suicide is Painless', also known as 'The Theme from M"A*S*H?. Recorded at the downmarket Soundspace studio in Cardiff for just £80, the song became the Manics' first Top 10 hit when it was released in September, peaking it number seven.

The accompanying video was simple and to the point: the band was filmed playing the song live in an empty warehouse that had its walls decorated in a multitude of different flags.[22] Directed by Matthew Amos, a series of handwritten slogans are mixed in throughout the film, with a couple of Richey-isms included: ?You can't invent another colour' and 'Pay no more attention to me than if I were a machine ? I am little else'. The latter might have had something to do with the band's nickname for Edwards ? ?Android'.

The song was added to the band's live set during the heavy touring schedule up to the end of the year. They would often walk onstage to the strains of Ice-T?s ?Cop Killer? and cover The Clash's ?What?s My Name?'. MTV Spain filmed the gig in Madrid.

Edwards was a shadow at the back of the stage. Dressed all in black he blended into the gloom and during some songs he was hardly glimpsed at all, but elsewhere he was still making waves. In 1994, The Times would feature a Caitlin Moran story about meeting Richey in Bournemouth during the autumn 1992 tour. Calling him 'the most untouchably beautiful person I have ever seen in my life?, she wrote of him fussing around her and making her tea ? ever the charming, polite, valley boy.

The year ended in controversy, with Nicky Wire shooting his mouth off again. An end-of-tour show at the Killburn National saw Nicky Wire proclaim, ?In the season of goodwill, let's hope Michael Stipe goes the same way as Freddie Mercury.? The R.E.M. frontman had been the target of rumours that he had AIDS, which Mercury had died of complications from in November 1991. Richey Edwards did not comment publicly on the matter, instead offering his final public words of 1992 via his Christmas manifesto. This wasn't exactly filledwithseasonalspirit: 'LIFEISMEANINGLESS. THEREISNOTRUELOVE, JUSTAFINETUNED JEALOUSY...WESITINSTRAIGHTLINES,DOWHATWEARETOLD, LI?ESEATS?NLOCKERBIE, DECKCHAIRSONTHETITANI?. ALLACTIONISFORCED. ALLREBELLIONISFAKE.' He was realising that stardom wasn't all that it was cracked up to be and that in many ways being in a band could be compared to any other Job. You're told where to be and when, you do a shift, you do a tour, you move on, and you go home on your own. The adulation is for what you represent rather than what you actually are. The girls want Richey Edwards, pretty rock star. They don't even know Richey Edwards, human being. He knew that the next year was likely to be similar to the one just passed, and that the one after this could be much the same. Things weren't the way he had hoped they would be.

The Manics were already getting old. Richey Edwards knew that there was a danger that their fire could begin to die out. Where they used to argue about politics, sport, bands, films, books, anything, they now piled into the van wrapped in their world of Walkmans and handheld video consoles. As Edwards said, it was ?An existential nightmare!?

'Boredom is the only reason we exist and still exist,? he added. ?We still cannot learn how to enjoy ourselves.? He might not have realised it at the time, but he was actually speaking for himself more than the band as a whole. The others did learn to enjoy themselves, mainly by pursuing relationships and interests outside the band. Richey Edwards didn't, or couldn't, and that would lead to more problems down the line. He was already drinking more often. During the year he'd been asked if he would be bitter and twisted at the age of thirty-five if the Manics didn't work out. 'I've always been bitter and twisted,? he replied. ?It's not going to change with how old I am.'

VIII

Date: 2016-06-12; view: 228