In all of rock's varied and storied history, I can't think of another band that yearned harder and more desperately to be Important than the Manic Street Preachers. You can tell from every album they ever released, every photo they ever posed for, every line of lyrics they ever penned, that these guys wanted to change the lives and minds of millions and enter into rock's history books as nothing short of legends. From day one, they wore their politics (indeterminate though they sometimes were) on their sleeves and spoke only in Statements-- they're the kind of band who almost certainly come up with the titles for their songs before the songs are written ("If You Tolerate This, Your Children Will Be Next", anyone?), driven by ideas and philosophical concepts more than raw inspiration or restless creativity.
The band has managed to squeeze six albums out of that approach, which in itself tells you something. Back when they were just four unknowns in heavy eye shadow and feather boas with slogans scrawled on their clothes, they famously had the audacity (or was it marketing savvy?) to proclaim that they would make the greatest rock album ever and then split-- neither of which panned out, of course. Their debut, Generation Terrorists, walked a weird line between agit-punk, cock rock, romantic melodicism and glam, and was so obviously patterned after The Clash's London Calling that it was actually kind of cute. They did add a chapter to rock folklore, however, after releasing their best record (1994's tormented The Holy Bible), when lyricist Richey Edwards-- suffering from anorexia, alcoholism and a pattern of self-abuse that culminated in him carving "4REAL" in his arm with a razor blade during an interview with Steve Lamacq as a manner of addressing critics who doubted the band's conviction-- disappeared, never to be seen again.
Their three albums since his disappearance have been no less grand in purpose and certainly no less serious, though they've made more concessions to pop as the years have progressed. Now, after a decade and a half of making some of the most stridently earnest music you can spend money on, Manic Street Preachers have released Lipstick Traces: A Secret History, which compiles 20 B-sides. The album not only references critic Greil Marcus in its title, but also quotes him on the inner sleeve: "What appealed to me most were its gaps and those moments when the story that has lost its voice somehow recovers it." That's a pretty damn pretentious mission statement for an odds 'n' sods collection, but if you've followed the band for any appreciable amount of time, you've come to expect this kind of grandiose contextualizing by now.
Though one might be tempted to think that, like most bands, the B-side is where the Manics stretch out and try new things-- maybe even lighten up for a joke or two-- this turns out not to be the case. Unlike a fair portion of their UK comrades in the 1990s (Blur and Suede come to mind), the band didn't relegate many of their best moments to second-class status on their singles, so what you've essentially got here is leftovers-- songs that didn't make the albums, but that still reach for nothing less than changing the world. Just check out titles like "Prologue to History", "Socialist Serenade", "Democracy Coma", or "We Her Majesty's Prisoners", and you'll get the basic idea. "Prologue to History" is one of the band's better flips, a propulsive slice of piano punk that showcases the band's talents, and Sean Moore's unbelievable and underappreciated drumming, in particular.
There are a couple of surprises hiding in the sprawling nonchronological tracklist, such as the surprisingly strong Bacharach pastiche "Horses Under Starlight", replete with gooey euphonium, cornet and big "bah-bah" harmonies, and the understated, synth-coated "Dead Trees and Traffic Islands", a song that could have fit snugly on 1996's excellent Everything Must Go, the band's first post-Edwards album. Guitarist/vocalist James Dean Bradfield (his real given name, by the way) is given a little more room to solo than usual on "Valley Boy" and proves he can tear it up with the best of them. His vocals have always been one of the band's greatest assets, too-- not many people could spin such strongly melodic material out of lyrics about debt reduction and stuffed with lines like, "Ceremonial rape machine/ Life won't corrupt you," as he does on "We Her Majesty's Prisoners".
Early pressings of Lipstick Traces also come with a disc of covers the band have performed at various points in their career, something that really ought to be more interesting than it is. The problem here, really, is that they just take it all too seriously. Their version of Chuck Berry's "Rock and Roll Music" is so comically earnest it kills the song's inherent energy, and their take on Camper Van Beethoven's "Take the Skinheads Bowling" doesn't fare much better. One of the few songs they really try to interpret and make their own, Nirvana's "Been a Son", is recast on acoustic slide guitar and winds up sounding totally flat, especially compared to the original. The group does score a minor coup with a shimmering acoustic cover of Wham!'s "Last Christmas", though, and their ultra-faithful live run through The Clash's "Train in Vain" borders on charismatic, but this disc is strictly for the fans who've tattooed "4REAL" on their forearms and kept Karl Marx quotations pinned to their concert tees.
And that may very well go for the entire compilation. It's hard to see anyone who doesn't already own all six of the band's LPs getting any kind of long-term enjoyment from this set, but those who do will find it engaging, even if nothing on it comes close to "A Design for Life" or "Mausoleum". As retrospectives go, Lipstick Traces is reasonably comprehensive (it seems pretty unlikely anyone will be crying over the fact that, say, "Montana/Autumn/78" isn't included), though it might have been nice to see the band's debut EP, New Art Riot, and non-album A-sides "Motown Junk" and "The Masses Against the Classes" compiled in one place for posterity. Manic Street Preachers never conquered the world like they wanted to, but it's been a good enough ride that I don't begrudge them for trying, and this compilation, flawed though it is, is sure to please those who'd always hoped they would succeed.
