In The Beginning....

A great moment in history:

"YOU!!!"

"LOVE!!!"

"US!!! YOU LOVE US!!! YOU LOVE US!!! YOU LOVE!!!"

(and society crumbles) . And this is the one gig where the riot happens...

What previously seemed like a taunt, a rattle thrown out of their pram has become a statement of utter truth. With their reliance upon cheap sensationalist Sun-style-cut-up verbal assualts th Manics seem to hone the politics of reality into a few wods: "Fuck Queen & Country", "Destroyed By Madness", "Rain Down Alienation - Leave This Country", "Usless Generation" "Culture of Destruction".

What is important is not that the Manics have actually achieved anything, but that they tried, to at least make something out of nothing that the youth of today are provided is worth celebration. Live the Manics are exactly that. Dressed in a remarkably cross-sexual way (we are not men! we are not women! we are ourselves!) Nicky & Richey career across the stage draped like Venus In Furs, abusing their sexual power and desecrating the Penis-shrine of the guitar. The Smell of Teen Spirit is everywhere, the crowd crammed together like some form of perverse sexual rite where everyone knows nobody but themselves. Everyone is a stranger.

"You Love Us", the old battlecry heralds the new set, kickstarting lost youth into action. Some people just stare, others fly from the stage, most jump around, knowing they cant change anything, so thy don't bother. "Slash & burn", and everything is outof control. Security don't even bother anymore. The onslaught of youth becomes a tidal wave. Boots and bodies are pressed into faces. "Love's Sweet Exile" is mostly instrumental - the mikestand hurled asideby stagedivers. James wrestles with it as it falls, sinking on the ground to follow its descent, before giving up completely. The kids deny themselves a voice - they make themselves mute.

"Repeat" is everything it should be. James screams "Repeat After me - FUCK QUEEN & COUNTRY" as the alienated youth take to the stage. 10,20,30,40, bodies crowd upon the stage. The Manics look lost as the hall empties itself. It grinds to a halt as the security prove the punk ethos - "anyone can do it" - wrong.

Later, "Repeat" is restarted. The kids safely where they belong, watching the spectacle, not taking part; on the outside. Nicky slurs abuse at the useless generation. A scantily clad groupie, in nothing but a bra, high heels, and an all over fishnet body stocking clings to Richey's lgs like he's a God. Then somehow she's in the crowd, retarded males ripping her clothes off. its like watching a murder, like people ogling a trapped animal in a zoo. It's like watching "The Accused" all over again, a freakshow of freakshows. A horror movie made flesh. Some of us push the men off her, to her friends.Scared, but safe. And the drummer from the Wildhearts is quoted in R A W  magazine as saying; "She was Luvvin' It!".

James seems stunned behind his dark glasses, watching the breakdown of everything, destroyed by madness. Seconds later he's commanding the lost youth - "Fall in love with me, fall at my feet."

Suddenly, its nearly over. The madness at fever pitch. "Stay beautiful" is a treat. Richey is jumping around as if the floor itself is eletrified. It's all part of the ritual - but it makes no sense. "Motown Junk" is the final straw. The last train to Hate Central."21 years of living - doesn't mean anything to me." It ends almost as soon as it begins, like a car driven into the wall and loving the thrill. "This Is The Culture Of Destruction". Suddenly, though, they're gone.

Backstage, Richey signs posters "Destroy Work" and Nicky gloats over their historic TOTP performance. One fan convinced he is due backstage access manages to get knocked unconscious by a boisterous security guard. Later he can be seen smashing wooden doors senselessly with a wooden stick, screaming with rage. The confusion in his eyes says it all - he's lost control. The groupies moan of being abused, Richey confesses he finds them a bore. It's madness.

Perhaps the best epitah comes almost a fortnight later, when a much less eventful gig climaxes in Birmingham. Alone onstage, bereft of the rest of the band, the venue pitch black, Nicky screams "We live in Urban Hell" like it is the only thing left in the world that makes any sense.

Perhaps its the only thing in the world that does.

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