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Manic Street Preachers - 'All Surface, No Feeling' (Everything Must Go - 1996)
There’s part of me that whenever I listen to the Manic Street Preachers’ 1996 album Everything Must Go, I’m amazed and taken back that it even exists, and then amazed even more that the album was a number one and one of the best-selling records in the UK for both 1996 and 1997.1 That’s not because it isn’t a record full of dramatic, anthemic, rousing and passionate songs, it is. No, it is because, quite conceivably, what happened to the band in 1995 could have ended them.
I’ve often written about how closing tracks can be used as a preview. A teaser trailer for what the band is thinking for the next record.
But this closing track is different; it looks back on where they had just come from and where they couldn’t go back to.
For those who aren’t aware, this poignant and sentimental song is diligently placed last on the record because it is the only one that features recorded input from rhythm guitarist Richey Edwards. Edwards has been missing, now presumed dead, since he disappeared in February 1995. This means that the song serves as an arresting coda to the album which would go on to become the most pivotal of their career, not only a number itself but producing four consecutive top ten hits2 in the UK and ensuring that the band would feature on, or even headline, many festival stages across Europe for decades to come.
Despite common interpretations that link ‘All Surface No Feeling’ solely as a farewell for Edwards, the song's origins predate his disappearance, and he is present playing rhythm guitar on the track. As Simon Price notes in his excellent Manics’ history book Everything, the track was a product of January 1995, stemming from Nicky Wire's growing disillusionment with life in a rock band. While the lyrics inadvertently resonate with Edwards' absence, they were not originally intended as such.
The song, in reality, delves into the transformative and often challenging experience of being part of Manic Street Preachers. It reflects Wire's introspection on the personal costs and changes brought about by their success. This introspective theme probes the nature of authenticity and sincerity, suggesting that the purest form of love is one that is deeply felt, transcending mere superficialities. That said, you can still feel that by the time the record was released, the sound you heard was of a band coming to terms with their legacy, tragedy, and uncertain future.
Parking any Edwards interpretation of the lyrics, ‘No Surface, All Feeling’ delves into themes of loss, regret, and emotional depth. There is a feeling of being overwhelmed by emotions and maybe even a sense of shame. We question those emotions as we gaze inward. Even the title, ‘No Surface, All Feeling’, seems to capture the juxtaposition at the heart of the Manics’ work. Superficiality and depth, appearance and reality. These dualities echo across their work.
Musically, the song is subtle and euphoric at both ends of the band’s spectrum. Starting with a relatively subdued intro, it slowly gathers pace, melding James Dean Bradfield's impassioned vocals with a guitar line that alternates between understated and soaring. This slow-burn approach culminates in a cathartic crescendo, replete with a soul-stirring guitar solo. It exemplifies the Manics' ability to weave emotional intensity into their music, a trait that has often set them apart in the crowded landscape of British rock and one that has done as much as any band in the UK to define that “guitar band at a festival” sound that rings over rolling, green hills every summer.
While ‘No Surface All Feeling’ was not released as a standalone single like the other blockbuster songs from the album, its significance has not been lost on fans and critics alike. In 2013, Pop Matters listed a top twenty fan-voted countdown that had it listed in 13th and, therefore, the second highest-ranked song from Everything Must Go. It is also their 13th most played song, according to Setlist.fm, and they often end up closing their sets with it to end with a note of communal catharsis.
The track concludes with another of the band's signature false endings, followed by a brief outro. This heavily processed and filtered outro has an ethereal quality, resonating more as an echo or a spectral presence than a direct continuation of the song. It's widely speculated, though not officially confirmed, that this segment features a snippet from the original demo sessions before Richey Edwards' disappearance, possibly including a rare instance of his guitar work on a Manics studio album. The noticeable dip in sound quality and the unique nature of this outro, seldom replicated in live performances, hint at its more profound significance. It seems like the band's subtle yet heartfelt nod to their missing friend, a personal tribute woven into the song’s fabric.
20th and 24th, respectively, according to the Official Chart Company.
‘A Design For Life’ (#2), ‘Everything Must Go’ (#5), ‘Kevin Carter’ (#9) and ‘Australia’ (#7)
The Manics last really great album imho.