Catchy orchestral pop-rock crafted to call back the Manics’ late-90s imperial era, or hollow heritage bombast, an insult to the trio’s long-lost teenage fury? Maybe Resistance Is Futile is both. The pleasurable frisson of cognitive dissonance ripples throughout. Preemptive nostalgia says we should cherish acts such as these, before they disappear forever. With their tragic history and dizzying intelligence, the Manics could never be just another band. Although sometimes that’s exactly how they sound. And even worse, that other band is Stereophonics.
What saves the Manics are their lyrics – splinters in the soft oak of the music. “Here’s my gift to you – a soundtrack to the void”, promises International Blue, a sleek anthem to Yves Klein. Even as Coldplay-ish, arena-roof-rattler Hold Me Like a Heaven surfs on a tide of stirring oh-oh-ohs, it lets you know “I hate the world more than I hate myself”. Hillsborough postscript Liverpool Revisited is a touch mawkish and awkward – meme patio poet rather than manic street preacher – but also tender and empathetic. A remarkable band, still wrestling with the most difficult issues, still searching for beauty in the void.
