The Only Performance That Makes It: Manic Street Preachers, Suede play against long shadows in Austin

Wales’ Generation Terrorists and ‘90s neo-glam Britpop fathers finally debut in the River City, on the Austin City Limits stage. Plus a review of the new Modernettes retrospective.

“MOTOWN JUUUNNNKKK!” That’s me in the foreground, not losing my religion to Manic Street Preachers, Nov. 13, 2022. (Pic: Chris Mora)

“It’s great to be here, a place I’ve seen on TV a lot,” Manic Street Preachers singer/lead guitarist James Dean Bradfield said Nov. 13, 2022, from the stage of Austin’s ACL Live at the Moody Theater, where PBS’ long-running Austin City Limits series is indeed produced. Verily, the Welsh Situationist glam-punks turned Welsh Situationist stadium balladeers have existed since 1986, and the Nov. 13th date was their Austin debut. Their tour mates, ‘90s Bowie-worshiping Britpop pioneers Suede, also played their first-ever Austin gig in their 33 year history. The rapturous reception the River City gave them probably has both bands kicking themselves over not playing here sooner. 

(NOTE: Despite what The Austin Chronicle blurb indicated, the Suede who played here thrice was the American artist who legally forced the Brits to rename themselves “The London Suede,” Stateside. At least none of the tour merch bears that annoying prefix. And yes, I wrote said blurb. Oops!)

The people-watching was entertaining in and of itself. You absolutely could tell which audience member was there for which band, including a young man who was a dead ringer for Suede vocalist Brett Anderson. Five women sported the faux leopard coats, feather boas and glitter that marks female and male Manics fans the world over, while one guy approximated the 1991 MSP look – white jeans, teased up glam bouffant, spray-painted shirt, caked-on mascara. (OKAY, THAT WAS ME! SHADDAP!) And while the youth were plentiful in attendance, a significant amount were middle-aged OG Britpop fans with moptops getting notably thin at the crown, with bellies bulging beneath their polka dot shirts. (AGAIN, I *KNOW* I HAVE NO ROOM TO TALK! SHADDAP!) The air of ritual, along with the love and enthusiasm in the air, made for knife-edge vibrations which surely fed the musicians.

Suede’s Brett Anderson onstage at ACL Live at the Moody Theater, Nov. 13, 2022. (Pic: Chris Mora)

Certainly, Anderson luxuriated in the crowd’s ardor, wading in during set opener “Turn Off Your Brain And Yell” and posing for selfies while still emoting the lyrics. Suede’s lighting engineer deserves credit for imbuing their set with all the drama of a German Expressionist film, all long shadows projected against the back wall, heightening Anderson’s oddball Watusi-ing. As they uncorked one pounding, theatrical ‘90s classic after another – “The Drowners,” “Animal Nitrate,” “Metal Mickey,” all whalloping drum attack and big, distorted guitar chords – it was evident Noel Gallagher owns every Suede record, though he’d likely never admit it.

Manic Street Preachers: onstage at ACL Live at the Moody Theater, Nov. 13, 2022: (l-r) Bradfield, Moore, Wire. (Pic: Chris Mora)

Once the Manics took the stage with “You Stole The Sun From My Heart,” it was blatant they’d emphasize the widescreen coliseum shanties which have been their favored mode since Richey Edwards vanished in 1995. Indeed, one highly literary power ballad unfurled after another – “Motorcycle Emptiness,” “If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next,” the set-closing “A Design For Life” – the entire audience wailing every word back at Bradfield. Precious little of their vintage eyeliner-and-spray-paint punk bruisers blasted forth, not even early absolute classic “Motown Junk.” “Slash ‘n’ Burn” (which bassist Nicky Wire, resplendent in a Dolly Parton t-shirt beneath his DIY punk blazer, dedicated to “our geometrically brilliant genius Richey Edwards”) and “You Love Us” received suitably storming treatments, however. Nothing from their early masterpiece, the depressing, corrosive The Holy Bible, was aired, though requests from it were greeted with some choice JDB one-liners: “‘PCP?’ Do you really want us to attempt something we haven’t done since 1996? The song, not the drug!”  And just to underline the source of Bradfield’s fluid, note-heavy guitar technique, a pristine “Sweet Child O’ Mine” proudly stood at the set’s center.

Afterwards, a number of the faithful stood near the Manics’ tour bus, hoping for autographs and selfies, and maybe to hand Wire a packet of crisps. Drummer Sean Moore was first out, grumpily scribbling on a few records and t-shirts. Then the rest beelined for the bus, Wire shielding his face. Two seconds later, Bradfield re-emerged, thanking us for coming from a distance, but begging off any contact due to COVID – a classy burst of graciousness from a great band.

Standing Over By The Record Machine: The Modernettes roar back to life in new reissue

Tuneful Vancouver punk outfit sees their two EPs given their proper sonic due on Eighty Eighty Two comp. LP on Projectile Platters.

Canada had one of Earth’s most crucial punk scenes from 1976-86, but few could even name you even one Teenage Head B-side these days. Which is a cryin’ shame that could end drought worldwide on a permanent basis. Vancouver, British Columbia’s scene was especially potent. How could you lose, when your two greatest bands are DOA (and here’s Part Two of that Joey Shithead interview) and The Subhumans (and I don’t mean the UK Anarcho band)? But barring those two powerhouses, you could not spit in Vancouver in those years without hitting a killer punk band – The Young Canadians, Dishrags, and Pointed Sticks immediately come to mind, But The Modernettes? They were absolute Vancouver pogo-rock titans, and you likely have no idea who I’m talking about.

If you have any inkling of ‘em, it’s possibly for originating “Rebel Kind,” a song adopted by ‘80s Austin rockers The True Believers to slightly more popular effect. But even that’s doubtful. Suffice to say they were a punk outfit who understood the cruciality of both an overdriven Gibson SG and a crackin’ melody. They had a gangly glamorpuss on bass guitar named Mary Wichar (answering onstage to the gruesome pseudonym Mary Jo Kopechne) and a genius singer/songwriter/guitarist named John Armstrong, with a thrift store Johnny Thunders wardrobe and a Spoonerism of Chuck Berry for a stage name – Buck Cherry. One day, he tossed off a wicked parody of late ‘50s teen rock, “Barbra.” Attacked with Ramones-esque aplomb, it caught on so quickly, Armstrong had to perform it forevermore, much to his chagrin. 

The Modernettes previously enjoyed an everything-including-the-ktichen-sink compilation, Get It Straight. Now the brilliant Projectile Platters, responsible for the excellent reissues by The Joneses that I reviewed in September, has placed both of The Modernettes’ EPs back-to-back on an excellent LP, Eighty Eight Two.

“Barbra” set the basic template for the Modernettes’ Teen City EP, cut in two sessions in ‘79 and ‘80 by future Metallica producer Bob Rock: Loud, fast, crude and tuneful, essentially the Ramones with Thunders on lead guitar, and lyrics with a rather Dictators-ish lyrical thrust. But while such Armstrong compositions as “Celebrity Crackup” and “Suicide Club” exuded loads of “cars, girls, surfin’, beer – nothin’ else matters here” attitude, it was given a distinctively British nihilism: “Everyone falls in love/Down at the Suicide Club – that’s where the girls are.” According to Armstrong’s hilariously mordant Eight Eighty Two liner notes, the EP ran through “five pressings of 1000 records,” not a dime of which the band saw. No wonder the band gave up the ghost after 15 months of seemingly pointless touring. 

After a spell in a Vancouver punk supergroup, Los Popularos, Armstrong dragged Wichar into a retooled Modernettes featuring Randy “Valentino” Carpenter’s dueling six-string and Ian Noble, a more nimble drummer than original Modernettes tub-thumper John “Jughead” McAdams. The new material Armstrong was bringing in, along with the more flexible musicianship, kept the band on the punk spectrum, with an attack somewhere between The Velvet Underground’s abrasive, atonal avant-garage rock and The Byrds’ janglier guitar-scapes. 

As evidenced on the resultant View From The Bottom EP, as his songwriting deepened, Armstrong could vividly paint desperate living on the twangy “Rebel Kind”: “The world’s an ugly place when you don’t have a dime/You’re cashing bottles in and scrimping all the time.” Yet he paired that couplet with a burst of hope: “You’re wrong to give up, you never even tried.” Such depth and sensitivity seats Armstrong at the same table with fellow Blank Generation master songwriters as Paul Westerberg and John Felice. And it’s high time he got that recognition.

Projectile Platters gives both Modernettes EPs the same robust remastering job The Joneses’ reissues enjoyed. Genius mastering engineer Jack Control brings out every detail and sonic nuance – this is the best these recordings have sounded, ever. Hard to tell if this will finally grant the Modernettes their rightful place in the punk pantheon, but it’s their best representation on record yet, meant to drive your neighbors nuts via volume and repetition.

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