Manic Street Preachers
The Everlasting

THE REVIEW

The Manics don't have a standard.
The Manics strike with their words even when you least expect it.

They are not just a band with singles and an unfortunate past.
They pour the right amount of venom into their works.
They have the spleen.

They grab you and shout that you're miserable and that they despise everything around them, perhaps quoting Byron or Baudelaire, maybe with killer riffs or acoustics.

But that's the essence. Only they have class.

The second album without Richey has some excellent moments that break your heart in half or leave a bitter taste in your soul (most notably, in my opinion, I'm not working and Born a girl) but I focus on the opener, which doesn't deny their verve.

Aging, perhaps poorly and getting angry.
Still having that eternal energy and not knowing what to do with it, how to throw it away.

Sure, it was nice when at the beginning our smiles were genuine and we felt like winners.
What's the reward? Where can I find it while the gap between us keeps widening more and more?

The Everlasting is the essay that perhaps doesn't know what to make of this awareness after all and would like to go back to being that young person full of uncertainties.