Review: Manic Street Preachers – Know Your Enemy (deluxe edition)


Manic Street Preachers Know Your Enemy Deluxe Edition




An original idea is achieved on Manic Street Preachers’ latest reissue.

Back in 2011, as part of the promotion for the second Manic Street Preachers’ greatest hits collection National Treasures, a rather catty strapline boldly stated: ‘No Reunions. No Comebacks. No Encores.’, a reference to the reformation of some of their peers (Blur, Pulp, The Verve) around the turn of the decade.

Although the Blackwood trio have stuck to that manifesto, steadfastly defiant in their fourth decade, they aren’t averse to plundering their legacy either.

Know Your Enemy, their sixth album (and sixth to receive the Collector’s/Anniversary edition treatment) now goes under the microscope, but rather than the usual bonus discs, accompanying tours (although tracks from Know Your Enemy have been in their set all year) etc, their most schizophrenic album has been stripped down and rebuilt as the trio originally intended.

According to the statement upon its announcement: ‘During the recording sessions, the trio got cold feet and settled on a single album that forced often conflicting ideas to sit side by side on the same record.’

The original idea was a double album of two sides: Door To The River and Solidarity and, on deciding upon the details of the reissue, James Dean Bradfield insisted on remixing the album with their long-term producer Dave Eringa.

A mammoth undertaking for both Bradfield and the listener, with 34 tracks making up the bulk of the endeavour (along with a bonus disc of demos), was it worth it for one of their middling efforts?

The answer, fortunately, is yes. But be thankful for the division.

With a completely rejigged running order, Door To The River (the album) opens with the breezy The Year Of Purification, one of the Manic Street Preachers’ most underrated tracks finally getting the attention it deserves.



It may bit a bit MOR but it has a swinging, R.E.M.-esque spring in its step which makes it enjoyable. Followed as it is by Ocean Spray, it’s immediately apparent that this is the ‘softer’ side.

Sadly, some tracks suffer; So Why So Sad loses much of its grandiosity in the alternative version presented early on (the original coming much, much later), an Avalanches Sean Penn remix which reveals it to be an average song without the production, even with this bizarre, Americana slide guitar mix, even if it is a bit sturdier in rhythm.

Likewise, Door To The River (which eventually found a home on their first greatest hits, keep up!) suffers without its luxurious strings, although even the acoustics can’t deny the soaring chorus.

Thereafter, it’s broadly a run through the more reflective tracks, such as the brittle Let Robeson Sing, the rattling Royal Correspondent and the repetitive Just A Kid, before Groundhog Days and Epicentre lift the first side to a crescendo. Newbie Rosebud is also included, but is largely forgettable apart from a classic Bradfield solo.

And so, logically, Solidarity is more energetic and flies out of the traps with the brutal Intravenous Agnostic, one of many examples of Sean Moore’s superlative drumming.

B-side (and cover), the boisterous We Are All Bourgeois Now, gets absorbed into the main album, as does standalone single Masses Against The Classes (minus the ‘The’). Deleted on the day of release, the first new number one of the 21st century was the first step on this odyssey, demonstrated by its depiction of the Cuban flag on the cover.

After the anthemic but plodding This Is My Truth, Tell Me Yours, Masses… was a tonic as the Manic Street Preachers hadn’t sounded as vital in years. Age has not dulled its power (in fact, given the cost of living crisis, it’s arguably more relevant) and it stands tall among its equally ferocious partners on Disc 2, such as the righteous Baby Elian and the raggedly lo-fi My Guernica.

Meanwhile, the other new track, Studies In Paralysis, is a noble attempt at raucous anthemia but falls short and little explanation is needed as to why it was omitted.

Despite the work that has gone into the package, the structuring still isn’t perfect (on streaming sites, at least); both ‘albums’ are dragged down in their latter stages by the inclusion of the B-sides or remixes. Better surely to give them a disc to themselves?

That aside it’s a treasure trove for fans, with the band considerate enough to give listeners the choice. As to which album is better, it all depends on how you like your Manics, really.


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