Ogni opera creativa nasce da una precisa e ben delineata concezione del mondo. Questa regola vale per la poesia, per il cinema, per la pittura e soprattutto per la musica. I mestieranti, va da sé, proliferano soprattutto nella cinematografia e nell'industria discografica, sono molti quelli che sognano di diventare ricchi in fretta per poi svanire nel nulla. Ma se le intenzioni dei tre restanti membri di questo gruppo mi ispirano un po' di diffidenza, ciò non vale per quanto riguarda Richey James. Non ho bisogno di prove per essere certo della sua assoluta autenticità: e non me ne frega niente di quel fottuto giorno in cui Richey decise di incidersi in un braccio la scritta "4 Real" per dimostrare ai giornali che almeno lui non era uno stramaledetto pupazzo. "4 Real", un po' come dire "facciamo sul serio".
Parlavo di concezione del mondo: l'ascolto di "The Holy Bible" rivela tutta la paranoia e la disperazione che attanagliavano la mente di Richey. Le sue liriche hanno pochi eguali nella storia della musica, certamente non stiamo parlando di Bob Dylan o di Nick Cave, ma il suo agghiacciante impasto di poesia decadente, filosofia nichilista e polemica politica rimane a tutt'oggi ineguagliato.
Che poi la musica del gruppo non sia nulla di rivoluzionario è risaputo: soltanto del buon hard rock ruvido a sufficienza da fungere da perfetto sfondo alla crudezza dei testi ma melodico quanto basta da dar vita a canzoni abbastanza orecchiabili.
Probabilmente questo attutisce l'impatto delle diatribe psico-politiche della band, che, a mio avviso, sono la parte più interessante di questo lavoro, e in effetti "The Holy Bible" assomiglia più ad un trattato filosofico (una bizzarra e velenosa fusione di Nietzsche, Sid Vicious e Marx) che a un album di rock da classifica.
Il gruppo mette in mostra il proprio lato più aggressivo nel ritornello epico e disperato di "Yes", scava nella depressione da anoressia (male che affligeva James) in "4st 7lb" e rende un commosso tributo alle vittime dell'Olocausto in "Mausoleum" e "The Intense Humming Of Evil". Non ci sono virtuosismi strumentali, nessuna ritmica bizzarra, nessuna magia sperimentale. Mi ritrovo spesso a riflettere sul tipo di musica che sarebbe stato prodotto da altri musicisti avendo a disposizione un membro come Richey James. Eh già, perché se Sean Bradfield e Nicky Wire (a cui si deve parte della veemenza politica della band) rispettivamente voce/chitarra e basso fanno il proprio lavoro con competenza e con una semplicità che calza a pennello al sound del gruppo, ciò che conta principalmente in quest'album non è la musica. È quella terribile, crudele e maledettamente riuscita fusione di arte ed esperienza personale: anche se non ci si trova davanti a un capolavoro di originalità, quella semplicità e quella scarsità di sfumature musicali sono quanto di meglio possa adattarsi alla creatività di James.
"The Holy Bible" è un tunnel infinito senza via d'uscita, lo sconsolato e funereo lamento di chi non riesce a vincere le proprie battaglie personali (nel caso di James quelle contro l'anoressia e l'alcool) e nel contempo guarda il mondo cadere a pezzi. È come vedere le cose dalla prospettiva di un'altra persona, captandone le impressioni, i disagi, le paure. E non importa se i Manics diventeranno in seguito degli ottimi intrattenitori da classifica, si può sempre pensare che una volta volevano anche esprimere un messaggio attraverso la musica. Non è speranza, non è fiducia, non è voglia di vivere. Ma è espressione, è messaggio, ed è tutto ciò di cui l'Arte è composta. Ma tant'è: sono ben altri i personaggi che attirano l'attenzione delle masse. Gente come gli Oasis, ad esempio. O come i Blur (per come la vedo io sopravvalutatissimi escludendo "Blur" e "13") eh già, loro si che producono vera musica. Mica come questi quattro sballati con il pallino della rivoluzione e della filosofia.
Elenco tracce testi e video
01 Yes (04:59)
For sale? dumb cunt's same dumb questions
Virgin? Listen, all virgins are liars, honey
And I don't know what I'm scared of or what I even enjoy
Dulling, get money, but nothing turns out like you want it to
And in these plagued streets of pity you can buy anything
For $200 anyone can conceive a God on video
He's a boy, you want a girl so chop off his cock
Tie his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want
I eat and I dress and I wash and I still can say thank you puking, shaking, sinking I still stand for old ladies can't shout, can't scream, hurt myself to get pain out
I 'T' them, 24/7, all year long
Purgatory's circle, drowning here, someone will always say yes
Funny place for the social, for the insects to start caring
Just an ambulance at the bottom of a cliff
And in these plagued streets of pity you can buy anything
For $200 anyone can conceive a God on video
He's a boy, you want a girl so chop off his cock
Tie his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want
If you want
I eat and I dress and I wash and I still can say thank you puking, shaking, sinking I still stand for old ladies can't shout, can't scream, hurt myself to get pain out
Power produces desire, the weak have none, there's no lust in this coma even for a fifty, solitude, solitude, the 11th commandment
The only certain thing that is left about me
There's no part of my body that has not been used
Pity or pain, to show displeasure's shame
Everyone I've loved or hated always seems to leave
And in these plagued streets of pity you can buy anything
For $200 anyone can conceive a God on video
He's a boy, you want a girl so chop off his cock
Tie his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want
If you want
Power produces desire, the weak have none, there's no lust in this coma even for a fifty, solitude, solitude, the 11th commandment
Don't hurt, just obey, lie down, do as they say, may as well be heaven this hell, smells the same, these sunless afternoons I can't find myself...
03 Of Walking Abortion (04:01)
I knew that someday I was gonna die
And I knew before I died
Two things would happen to me
That number one: I would regret my entire life
And number two: I would want to live my life over again
I knew that someday I was gonna die
And I knew before I died
Two things would happen to me
That number one: I would regret my entire life
And number two: I would want to live my life over again
Life is lead weights, pendulum died
Pure or lost, spectator or crucified
Recognised truth acedia's blackest hole
Junkies winos whores the nation's moral suicide
Loser - liar - fake or phoney
No one cares, everyone is guilty
Fucked up - dunno why - you poor little boy
We are all of walking abortions
Shalom shalom we all love our children
We all are of walking abortions
Shalom shalom there are no horizons
Mussolini hangs from a butcher's hook
Hitler reprised in the worm of your soul
Horthy's corpse screened to a million
Tisu revived, the horror of a bullfight
Fragments of uniforms, open black ruins
A moral conscience - you've no wounds to show
So wash your car in your 'X' baseball shoes
We are all of walking abortions
Shalom shalom we all love our children
We all are of walking abortions
Shalom shalom there are no horizons
Little people in little houses
Like maggots small blind and worthless
The massacred innocent blood stains us all
Who's responsible - you fucking are
Who's responsible - you fucking are
Who's responsible - you fucking are
Who's responsible - you fucking are
Who's responsible
05 Archives of Pain (05:29)
If hospitals cure
then prisons must bring their pain
do not be ashamed to slaughter
the centre of humanity is cruelty
there is never redemption
any fool can regret yesterday
nail it to the House of Lords
You will be buried in the same box as a killer, as a killer, as a killer
A drained white body hanging from the gallows
is more righteous that Hindley's crotchet lectures
pain not penance, forget martyrs, remember victims
the weak die young and right now we crouch to make them strong
Kill Yeltsin, who's saying? Zhirinovsky, Le Pen, Hindley and
Brady, Ireland, Allit, Sutcliffe, Dahmer, Nielson, Yoshinori
Ueda, Blanche and Pickles, Amin, Milosovic
Give them respect they deserve
give them the respect they deserve
Execution needed
a bloody vessel for your peace
if man makes death then death makes man
tear the torso with horses and chains
killers view themselves like they view the world, they pick at the holes
not punish less, rise the pain
sterilise rapists, all I preach is extinction
Kill Yeltsin, who's saying? Zhirinovsky, Le Pen, Hindley and
Brady, Ireland, Allit, Sutcliffe, Dahmer, Nielson, Yoshinori
Ueda, Blanche and Pickles, Amin, Milosovic
Give them respect they deserve
give them the respect they deserve
06 Revol (03:04)
Mr. Lenin - awaken the boy
Mr. Stalin - bi-sexual epoch
Kruschev - self love in his mirrors
Brezhnev - married into group sex
Gorbachev - celibate self importance
Yeltsin - failure is his own impotence
Revol revol
Revol revol
Lebensraum kulturkampf
Raus raus
Fila fila
Napoleon - childhood sweethearts
Chamberlain - you see God in you
Trotsky - honeymoon - serenade the naked
Che Guevara - you're all target now
Pol Pot - withdrawn traces bye bye
Farrakhan - alimony alimony
Revol revol
Revol revol
Lebensraum kulturkampf
Raus raus
Fila fila
Revol revol
Revol revol
Lebensraum kulturkampf
Raus raus
Fila fila
Revol
07 4st 7lb (05:05)
I eat too much to die
And not enough to stay alive
I'm sitting in the middle, waiting.
Days since I last pissed
Cheeks sunken and despaired
So gorgeous, sunk to six stone
Lose my only remaining home
See my third rib appear
A week later, all my flesh disappears
Stretching taut, cling-film on bone
I'm getting better
Karen says I've reached my target weight
Kate and Emma and Kristin know it's fake
Problem is diet's not a big enough word
I wanna be so skinny that I rot from view
I...wanna walk in the snow
And not leave a footprint
I...wanna walk in the snow
And not soil its purity
Stomach collapsed at five
Lift up my skirt, my sex is gone
Naked and lovely and 5 stone 2
May I bud and never flower
My vision's getting blurred
But I can see my ribs and I feel fine
My hands are trembling stalks
And I can feel my breasts are sinking
Mother tries to choke me with roast beef
And sits savouring her sole ryvitta
That's the way you're built, my father said
But I can change, my cocoon shedding
I...wanna walk in the snow
And not leave a footprint
I...wanna walk in the snow
And not soil its purity
Kate and Kristin and Kit Kat
All things I like looking at
Too weak to fuss, too weak to die
Choice is skeletal in everybody's life
I choose my choice, I starve to frenzy
Hunger soon passes and sickness soon tries
Legs bend, stockinged, I am twiggy
And I don't mind the horror that surrounds me
Self-worth scatters, self-esteem's a bore
I long since moved to a higher plateau
This disipline's so rare, so please applaud
Just look at the fat scum who pamper me so
Yeah, 4 stone 7, an epilogue of youth
Such beautiful dignity in self-abuse
I've finally come to understand life
Through staring blankly at my navel
08 Mausoleum (04:12)
Wherever you go I will be carcass
Whatever you see will be rotting flesh
Humanity recovered glittering etiquette
Answers her crimes with Mausoleum rent
Regained your self-control
And regained your self-esteem
And blind your success inspires
And analyse, despise and scrutinise
Never knowing what you hoped for
And safe and warm but life is so silent
For the victims who have no speech
In their shapeless guilty remorse
Obliterates your meaning
Obliterates your meaning
Obliterates your meaning
Your meaning, your meaning
No birds - no birds
The sky is swollen black
No birds - no birds
Holy mass of dead insect
Come and walk down memory lane
No one sees a thing but they can pretend
Life eternal scorched grass and trees
For your love nature has haemorrhaged
Regained your self-control
And regained your self-esteem
And blind your success inspires
And analyse, despise and scrutinise
Never knowing what you hoped for
And safe and warm but life is so silent
For the victims who have no speech
In their shapeless guilty remorse
Obliterates your meaning
Obliterates your meaning
Obliterates your meaning
Your meaning, your meaning
No birds - no birds
The sky is swollen black
No birds - no birds
Holy mass of dead insect
I wanted to rub the human face in its own vomit... and force it to look in the mirror
And life can be as important as death
But so mediocre when there's no air, no light and no hope
Prejudice burns brighter when it's all we have to burn
The world lances youth's lamb-like winter, winter
09 Faster (03:55)
I am an architect, they call me a butcher
I am a pioneer, they call me primitive
I am purity, they call me perverted
holding you but I only miss these things when they leave
I am idiot drug hive, the virgin, the tattered and the torn
life is for the cold made warm and they are just lizards
self-disgust is self-obsession honey and I do as I please
a morality obedient only to the cleansed repented
I am stronger than Mensa, Miller and Mailer
I spat out Plath and Pinter
I am all the things that you regret
a truth that washes that learnt how to spell
the first time you see yourself naked you cry
soft skin now acne, foul breath, so broken
he loves me truly this mute solitude I'm draining
I know I believe in nothing but it is my nothing
sleep can't hide the thoughts splitting through my mind
shadows aren't clean, false mirrors, too many people awake
if you stand up like a nail then you will be knocked down
I've been too honest with myself I should have lied like everybody else
I am stronger than Mensa, Miller and Mailer
I spat out Plath and Pinter
I am all the things that you regret
a truth that washes that learnt how to spell, learnt to spell
so damn easy to cave in, man kills everything
10 This Is Yesterday (03:58)
Do not listen to a word I say
Just listen to what I can keep silent
The only way to gain approval
Is by exploiting the very thing that cheapens me
And I stare at the sky
And it leaves me blind
I close my eyes
And this is yesterday
Someone somewhere soon will take care of you
I repent, I'm sorry, everything is falling apart
Houses as ruins and gardens as weeds
Why do anything when you can forget everything
And I stare at the sky
And it leaves me blind
I close my eyes
And this is yesterday
I stare at the sky
And it leaves me blind
I close my eyes
And this is yesterday
11 Die in the Summertime (03:05)
Scratch my leg with a rusty nail, sadly it heals
Colour my hair but the dye grows out
I can't seem to stay a fixed ideal
Childhood pictures redeem, clean and so serene
See myself without ruining lines
Whole days throwing sticks into streams
I have crawled so far sideways
I recognise dim traces of creation
I wanna die, die in the summertime, I wanna die
The hole in my life even stains the soil
My heart shrinks to barely a pulse
A tiny animal curled into a quarter circle
If you really care wash the feet of a beggar
I have crawled so far sideways
I recognise dim traces of creation
I wanna die, die in the summertime, I wanna die
I have crawled so far sideways
I recognise dim traces of creation
I wanna die, die in the summertime, I wanna die
12 The Intense Humming of Evil (06:12)
You were what you were
Clean cut, unbecoming
Recreation for the masses
You always mistook fists for flowers
Welcome welcome soldier smiling
Funeral march for agony's last edge
6 million screaming souls
Maybe misery - maybe nothing at all
Lives that wouldn't have changed a thing
Never counted - never mattered - never be
Arbeit macht frei
Transports of invalids
Hartheim Castle breathes us in
In block 5 we worship malaria
Lagerstrasse, poplar trees
Beauty lost, dignity gone
Rascher surveys us butcher bacteria
Welcome welcome soldier smiling
Soon infected, nails broken hunger's a word
6 million screaming souls
Maybe misery - maybe nothing at all
Lives that wouldn't have changed a thing
Never counted - never mattered - never be
Drink it away, every tear is false
Churchill no different
Wish the workers bled to a machine
13 P.C.P. (03:55)
Lyrics by Richey James and Nicky Wire, music by James Dean Bradfield and Sean Moore
Teacher starve your child, P.C. approved
As long as the right words are used
Systemised atrocity ignored
As long as bi-lingual signs on view
Ten foot sign in Oxford Street
Be pure - be vigilant - behave
Grey not neon, grey not real
Life bleeds, death is your birthright
P.C. she speaks impotent, sterile, naive, blind, atheist, sadist, stiff-upper lip, first principle of her silence, of her silence
PCP - a P.C. police victory
PCP - a P.C. phyrric victory
When I was young P.C. meant Police Constable
Nowadays I can't seem to tell the difference
Liposuction for your bad mouth boy
Cut out your tongue, effigies are sold
Words discoloured, bow to the bland
Heal yourself with sinner's salt
Doctors arrested for euthanasia
Kill smokers through blind vanity
If you're fat don't get ill
Europe's gravestone carved in plastic
P.C. she says inoculate, hallucinate, beware Shakespeare, bring fresh air, king cigarette snuffed out by her midgets, by her midgets
PCP - a P.C. police victory
PCP - a P.C. pyrrhic victory
When I was young P.C. meant Police Constable
Nowadays I can't seem to tell the difference
P.C. caresses bigots and big brother, read Leviticus, learnt censorship, pro-life equals anti-choice, to be scared of, of feathers
PCP - a P.C. police victory
PCP - a P.C. pyrrhic victory
When I was young P.C. meant Police Constable
Nowadays I can't seem to tell the difference
Lawyers before love, surrogate sex
This land bows down to
Yours, unconditional love and hate
Pass the prozac, designer amnesiac
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Altre recensioni
Di Vic Sorriso1
"'The Holy Bible' è uno degli album Rock britannici più 'violenti' (in senso... psicologico), dai tempi dei Joy Division."
"Dopo la scomparsa di James i Manic sono morti e sepolti, ma molti continuano ad ascoltare questa merda che esce a cadenza triennale."
