For a band who wished to live and die by one album, Manic Street Preachers are doing a terrible job. Anything released after Generation Terrorists is, to some degree, a do-over on their debut manifesto. They went big and realised all too late their best work was yet to come. Generation Terrorists is still worth a listen, more to hear how the band has grown from this bloated hour and ten minutes and, more recently, receded into this yawn-inducing cultural commentary. Their comments aren’t unique, nor are they setting the world on fire. Speaking their truth is an inevitability when it’s a rather safe set of pointers on where the world is going wrong. Their peers would offer the same and, in some instances, do more in one song than Manic Street Preachers did with all of Generation Terrorists. A provocative album without the substance necessary to back up that blistering, punk-like rage. At least the heart and spirit live on, that’s what keeps Generation Terrorists alive.
This is hardly the “greatest rock album ever” as the band promised. They would outdo themselves just a few years later, not because rock and roll had become their plaything but because they cooled it with the bravado. Back it up in the studio before you throw around comments which would humble even Liam Gallagher. Even with that foolish comment, Manic Street Preachers at least try to succeed in breaking down the walls of rock and roll. Their alternative rock style flutters through all the sub-genres popularised through the 1980s. Generation Terrorists is a fine balance of mocking those popular performers and playing around with the emotional effectiveness of such music. Embarrassing moments like Nat West – Barclays – Midlands – Lloyds show just how short-sighted Manic Street Preachers were in their political commentaries at the time. They still are, but they should’ve known better on Critical Thinking. At least on their debut, they truly believe what they’re singing about, even if some of it is dense or tame. Often, it’s both.
Much of Generation Terrorists is a band trying to make a name for themselves by creating a lot of noise around a release with little in the way of unique thought. But if you throw out eighteen passable songs, one or two are bound to stick around. Motorcycle Emptiness is the catchy first of two, the second being the underrated gem, Crucifix Kiss. Everything in between ranges from filler to half-hearted, cocky rock and roll undertakings. They manage to riff away on You Love Us but it never feels genuine. Little Baby Nothing is another example of that instrumental understanding without the heart necessary to make them effective songs. An attitude can ruin the appeal of a song, and that’s the case for Generation Terrorists. It’s tough to take it seriously when the band believed this to be their magnum opus. There are parts where the album sounds quite solid, but it’s one and done with it style of dealing with genres is a rather disappointing experience.
That’s not to say there aren’t moments of interest featured on Generation Terrorists. Those brilliant pieces come and go, with the end of Repeat (Stars and Stripes) an intensely interesting instrumental change which goes nowhere. Manic Street Preachers are interested in reforming rock and roll with the same notes. You cannot bring on sweeping change or statements to declare yourselves the voice of a generation without, at the very least, outlining some changes for the better. If we are to take Manic Street Preachers at their one-and-done aims, the band falls well short of artists who released just one album. Jeff Buckley and The Sex Pistols are leagues ahead of this would-be first and final release. But Manic Street Preachers knew that. All publicity is good publicity, after all. They knew that with Generational Terrorists, it’s just a shame they couldn’t back it up when thrown into the spotlight.
