When you think of legendary British bands, they don’t come much bigger and better than Manic Street Preachers. Still fiercely driven by their distinct philosophies on music and culture, and in the case of Nicky Wire, cleaning, the band remain a vital voice and constant presence in their devoted fans’ lives. Their 15th album ‘Critical Thinking’ is rich with melody, provocative lyrics and just enough silliness to make it one of their most compelling albums in recent memory.
Bassist, songwriter and legend in the game Nicky Wire talks about the album, why he hates smart meters, being heckled on stage and his deep love of hoovering.
‘Critical Thinking’ is your 15th album, an incredible achievement. All the Manics albums have their own distinctive character and world they inhabit, so what does ‘Critical Thinking’ represent within the Manic Street Preachers universe?
This will sound pretentious, but the original title was ‘The Dialectics’, which is the philosophical idea of opposites merging and trying to find some conclusion. We’ve reached the point where we’re all 56. I can’t lie to you, it doesn’t get easier to be in a band after 32 years. The three lyrics that James [Dean Bradfield (lead vocals, lead guitar)] writes in the album are much more drenched in humanity than mine. I’ve always pushed James to write words and I think he’s got a much broader sweep. A lot of my lyrics, I went off myself a bit. It’s not a midlife crisis with silly cars, but I’m just bored of my own thoughts. A lot of my lyrics on this are a judgement on myself. It’s much more the ‘I’ than the ‘We’.
The music sounds brighter and bolder than maybe you’ve ever sounded before on record.
It’s a pretty amazing trick to harness that much glistening energy on a record at our age. It does sparkle.
At this stage of the band’s career, is it natural to think this might be the last one, and what different pressures does that add to the work?
It is undoubtedly now just because of the way everything quite rightly changes, and you see yourself in the world. The one thing that’s bound us together right from the start is this strange and undeniable desire to create. It’s boundless. Some of the songs here worked in isolation, but we’d get in the studio, and everything clicked into place. It’s a precious commodity that we can still harness. I hate using words like difficult album so it’s not in that sense – it’s more just having the willpower to do it.
The thing about the Manics is you’ve never stopped. At all. A lot of your contemporaries, like Suede, went away for a while and came back. Do you ever wonder what would have happened to the Manics if you just knocked it on the head for 15 years then come back?
I do. I think we would have made more money! It just shows how hard it is to keep a band together. We were in Japan recently and watched Pulp headline this festival, and not with any bitterness. It was amazing doing that after having all that time off while we were lower down on the bill, even though we’ve sold loads of records in Japan just because we’ve been there 20 times over the last 20-odd years.
There’s something to be said for being a constant presence in people’s lives. For Manics fans, maybe everything else in their lives has changed, but the Manics have always been there.
It’s really rewarding when you realise they bring new generations with them. It’s special when you’ve got sometimes two or three generations. If you’re scarred in a good way by something so precious when you’re 15-18, it stays with you forever. You go off it, and you wander away; that could be a book or a film or sport. It is quite a challenge to get motivated and sit there and come up with something. There was one review that said it doesn’t sound like any other Manics album, and I think I agree; it does stand out a bit.
“I can’t lie to you, it doesn’t get easier to be in a band after 32 years”
Can James and Sean [Moore (drums, percussion, soundscapes)] still do things that surprise you when you get together as a band?
Absolutely, ‘Being Baptised’ was this glorious, jangly Pretenders-like song. In the pocket, people associate the Manics with rock and power chords and ‘Holy Bible’ darkness, but it glides. It’s beautiful with James’ lyrics about meeting Alan Toussaint, one of his musical heroes. I think I surprised them with ‘Critical Thinking’ because I went in and did that on my own, and they just put guitars and drums on.
Your vocals are prominent on this album, with the lead on the opening track and closing track, plus one of the singles. ‘One Man Militia’ is one of the best closing tracks to a Manics album since ‘PCP’ off ‘The Holy Bible’. The lyrics sound resigned yet dripping in anger at the same time.
It’s a rage against the dying of the light. It’s giving up and fighting simultaneously. It’s a moral judgement on myself and everything around you. I think it was the Queen’s funeral, and I just wanted to escape. James and Sean turned it into this Pistols-esque world destruction. I love how the ending drifts off. I always prefer James to sing every song, but quite rightly, on this album, he says I’ve reached a point where I can translate my own emotions with my voice. I’ve found a way to do that finally.
The title-track feels like something many people are probably thinking and will resonate with. What makes you recoil against that sort of buzzword, empowerment language, in 2025?
There are two sides to ‘Critical Thinking’: making sure your brain is intact and able to disseminate information, and having the wherewithal to just say no sometimes. The fridge magnet philosophy and corporate double-speak. The idea that everything is smart. I’ve got a smart meter because they literally told me I couldn’t keep my old one. It makes zero difference. The outright lies and corporate speak. I’ll see it on social media with someone I vaguely know asking, can someone recommend a good film? Do you really need to go on social media and ask someone to recommend something? I can’t comprehend. It’s a judgement on myself as well. Be wary but not overly cynical.
‘Dear Stephen’ is an interesting song. Is it arguably brave to reference Morrissey in 2025? How do you feel about not just discarding music that has meant a lot to you despite the people being discredited in some way?
It’s more a judgement on myself and my own weaknesses and trying to put yourself in that position. Some things you do cancel in your head where you say I can’t listen to that anymore. We all make those personal choices. We never really cancel everything that we might think has become slightly distorted.
I got this postcard when The Smiths were playing Cardiff in 1984, and I couldn’t go, and my mum had sent them a postcard saying my son couldn’t go as he was ill. I’ve kept this postcard for 40-odd years, and Morrissey just signs it saying “Get Well Soon, Nick”. I’ve got a few of these tactile things. They’re important, but they really mean nothing. They are literally crappy Athena postcards, but I’ve put so much importance in them over the years to try to investigate why that particular period of time is so insanely influential to your life. That postcard just takes me back to watching ‘The Boy With The Thorn In His Side’ on Top Of The Pops. Instantly, the hairspray, the clothes I was wearing.
I don’t think it’s a controversial song, it’s just a bit pretentious. James channelled Johnny Marr musically to go with it. There are plenty of things I find hard now. I don’t read T.S. Eliot anymore because I find there’s an undercurrent of anti-semitism in his work that I can’t just do, but I’ll still read Larkin and listen to The Smiths.
“I can’t lie to you, it doesn’t get easier to be in a band after 32 years”
It’s harder in the hyper-conscious social age to reckon with devotion when someone you love has been discredited.
That sense of freedom when you’re young is vital. One of my greatest wishes for anyone is to have the opportunities I had. Though working class, I had freedom, supportive parents, education, music and little judgement. Social norms provided boundaries without constant criticism. It’s damaging for young people to face endless judgment. We’ve all made mistakes.
It would be impossible for a band to arrive like the Manics did, with that iconoclastic approach, in 2025 – it’s a different world.
I’m grateful we existed then with Richey’s profound quotes and lyrics. ‘Archives of Pain’ literally says sterilise rapists. If you tweeted those lyrics today, it would create chaos. Even ‘Critical Thinking’ lyrics would be contentious on social media. We’ve always poured everything into our songs. Some of Richey’s most powerful quotes would seem unpalatable now. In ‘Hiding in Plain Sight’, I reference this by saying, “In the decade where I felt free”. I want future generations to have that freedom. Muzzling young people only leads to bitterness.
How do younger Manics audiences react differently to the band?
We see more of it now. I handle our social media, and you notice that younger generation. They focus on specific eras. Some fixate on ‘Generation Terrorists’ for its glam, androgyny and flamboyance. Others concentrate on ‘The Holy Bible’ for its aesthetic and nihilism. Then there’s a mainstream following that connects with our popular albums. ‘Tolerate’ has reached 90 million streams.
‘If You Tolerate…’ seems to be the biggest moment in your shows now, arguably surpassing ‘A Design for Life’?
‘Tolerate’ has travelled globally, whereas ‘A Design for Life’ feels rooted in working-class culture. I’m comfortable with that.
“Muzzling young people only leads to bitterness”
What does success look like now? Do you value different things, or miss the days of Top 40 singles and number ones?
That’s the dilemma at our age. Ticket sales matter, but releasing an album remains magical, even knowing its reach will be limited. James Baldwin said something like, “I’ve seen many talented ruins, but it’s those words like discipline and hard work that you need”. That’s our approach. We understand our position but must matter to ourselves through dedicated work.
You maintain that drive to continue, though?
We’ve always admired Paul Weller’s work ethic and adaptability – his ability to fade and resurge. Our career fluctuations have strengthened us. I’m not ashamed that some albums failed commercially. It’s made us more interesting.
How excited are you to play the new songs live, and how do you select older tracks to complement them?
That’s one of the things that causes problems. We were rehearsing ‘Peeled Apples’, ‘She Is Suffering’, ‘Sleepflower’ and old tracks like ‘Life Becoming A Landslide’ just for fun. There’s always a moment when you think, ‘Let’s put them in the set’, but most people just want ‘You Stole The Sun From My Heart’ – it’s a fine line.
We’re rehearsing more broadly for this tour with the new material and deep cuts. We still demand that visceral reaction when we play live. James sings so high, Sean pounds the drums for two hours. Now we’ve got the added element of me singing. I enjoyed it. I’m not a virtuoso, but some of my favourite singers weren’t – whether it’s Lou Reed or whoever. I remember singing ‘Watsville Blues’ at Manchester Apollo and hearing this bloke shout, “Get that cunt off the mic!”. I’m hoping I won’t get that reaction. Those early gigs were edgy as fuck. At Garrick Bay we were syringed with cider – one of the greatest gigs of our life.
Pete Townshend once said, “When I go on stage, I’m at war with our audience”. Now we’re in this place where everything’s about humility, and it’s an honour to be on stage, but when I watched Iggy Pop or Debbie Harry, I thought the privilege was mine. We’ve come full circle in this spectacle of what a gig is now, which I find difficult to deal with. When I first watched David Bowie, I never thought, ‘Oh god, he’s humble’. He was an absolute star.
Is there one song that encapsulates the record and everything you were trying to say?
‘One Man Militia’ and ‘Being Baptised’. One represents glorious humanity and the other something far more angsty. The title track and ‘One Man Militia’ is also our idea of fun. Many fans are glad when we do that. Those two songs are the two sounds of the record.
Do you have any new hobbies or passions we’d be interested in?
I spend my mornings preparing for the day. Rolling out of bed is a major task. One thing I always do now, however meaningless it might be, is try to make something every day – whether it’s a lyric, a photograph or learning an old Manics song. Anything that stimulates my brain, even if it’s doing Qourdle, Wordle and Octordle consecutively.
That sounds intense.
It’s become this obsession at midnight when the new Octordle (Wordle x8) and Quordle (Wordle x4) come out. I’ve got to do them every night. I try to keep my brain as fit as my body.
Are you still a fan of the hoovering? Where do you stand on the cordless versus plugged-in debate? The fans really need to know.
We have one in the studio but it hasn’t got the power it should have. I still have three hoovers in the house. I’ve kept that tradition. Two are ten years old. I still love cleaning. Cooking, I’m absolutely clueless. I’d rather clean a public toilet than make a sandwich.
Manic Street Preachers’ album ‘Critical Thinking’ is out 14th February.
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