Leaving the 20th century: Remembering ‘Manic Millennium’ 25 years on

Neil Collins

Incredibly, it’s 25 years since the millennium, which also means that it’s a quarter-century since the Manic Street Preachers hosted a New Year’s Eve party like no other.

Here’s an exclusive extract remembering that momentous night from Neil Collins’ book International Velvet: How Wales Conquered the ’90s Charts.

When the Manics played Radcliff’s Square Club in 1989 with only their manager and Richey’s sister in attendance, not even Nostradamus would’ve predicted what happened a decade later.

On 31 December 1999, the Manics – who had insisted they would be the most important band of the ’90s – were playing in front of 57,000 fans at the Millennium Stadium, a stone’s throw away from the Square Club, and on Millennium Eve of all
nights.

In January 1999, Nicky Wire said to Select he would be spending Millennium Eve in ‘a hotel that takes dogs somewhere in west Wales’. Yet, a decade on from their debut single, Suicide Alley, the band had plans up their sleeve for an extravaganza called Manic Millennium – the first non-rugby event to be hosted at the new Welsh national stadium.

With its retractable roof shut, this would be the largest indoor arena gig across Europe. True to their socialist roots, the Manics sold out all the tickets at a highly affordable price of £30, and it became Britain’s fastest-selling millennium event.

Their early bravado was nowhere to be seen in the run-up to the event, and understandably so. Away from festivals, not only was this the Manics’ biggest-ever gig, but also their only show heading into the year 2000. With a vulture-like press waiting for them to fail, they had to get this right.

In pre-show interviews, James Dean Bradfield’s presence was twitchy as he expressed his fear of forgetting lyrics amid the huge scale of the show. The Manics used to think they had ‘made it’ when they played Newport Centre; now they were using it as a rehearsal room.

Likewise, Nicky Wire gazed into the distance as his answers lingered, his eyes hidden behind aviators. At one point, the interviewer mentioned there would be a lot of excited people in attendance. A smile crept across Wire’s face: ‘P*****, you mean?’

He told Select: ‘We’ll be in front of 50,000 beautiful drunken people. There’ll be a good 25,000 hardcore fans there, but obviously there’ll also be a lot of people just out for the occasion…Once again, the Manic Street Preachers are determined to be as cheap as we can – we’re not going to make any money on this gig unless we sell a million t-shirts!’

Aside from the Manics’ nerves, Millennium Eve was laced with great excitement and tension. The news was awash with Mayan prophecies that the world was about to end. Plus, there was the dreaded ‘millennium bug’ where computer systems across the world would crash, planes would fall out of the sky and security systems collapse.

At the University Hospital of Wales in Cardiff, concerns were so intense over life-saving equipment failing that they brought in special back-up generators. Not long before, a section of the stadium’s roof had fallen during a rugby game, so anxiety was huge amongst organisers. It was decided that seats would be left empty and structural supports installed to withstand so many fans stomping in unison.

‘We’re the Manic Street Guinea Pigs for sure,’ commented Bradfield. At a pre-gig press briefing, Nicky Wire half joked: ‘All this jumping around might knock the stadium down. Try and keep calm.’

Manic Millennium kicked off with (poet and Nicky Wire’s brother) Patrick Jones and a reading of The Guerilla Tapestry featuring a who’s who of young Welsh acting talent including Ioan Gruffudd, Matthew Rhys, Andrew Howard and Rakie Ayola.

Next up was a bit of a curveball with Shack – one of the great, lost bands of the ’90s. Fresh from supporting Red Hot Chili Peppers at Wembley Arena, Feeder followed with a set showcasing the best bits of Polythene and Yesterday Went Too Soon.

The identity of the slot immediately below the headliner was much rumoured with Catatonia and Mansun suggested, while Stereophonics were annoyed at not being invited. It was never really going to be the Cwmaman boys though, after their previous spats, and they went on to take part in a Cream event in Liverpool (of which Nicky Wire criticised the cost).

Instead, the penultimate place went to Super Furry Animals, who delivered a glorious set from the breakneck brilliance of Do or Die to the maverick magnificence of The Man Don’t Give a Fuck.

Then it was time for the moment everyone had been waiting for. Emerging onstage looking like Shirley Manson, Nicky Wire’s grin was as wide as the River Taff. Resplendent in a sparkly tiara, pink ‘Culture Slut’ top matched with a mini
skirt (and a Manic Millennium foam finger nicked from the merch stand), the band launched into You Stole the Sun from My Heart.

An early highlight of the set was The Masses Against the Classes. A stand-alone single with a Nirvana-meets-The-Stooges sound, it issued a sharp riposte to accusations that the Manics had gone soft. Whereas on The Everlasting the Manics were defeated (‘In the beginning, when we were winning, when our smiles were genuine’), now they were defiant (‘We’re tired of giving a reason why we’re the only thing left to believe in’).

Released on 10 January 2000, the single knocked Westlife off the top spot to become the first new entry at No.1 of the millennium. Like You Love Us, it spoke directly to fans and critics, and addressed their reaction to all the recent success.
Deleted on the day of its release after securing 35,000 sales, its title derived from the nineteenth-century British prime minister William Gladstone. It also started and ended with Noam Chomsky and Albert Camus quotes.

Wrapping up the whole package was artwork depicting a Cuban flag, which predated their trip to meet Fidel Castro in February 2001. At Glastonbury ’99, the Manics played it safe at with a headline set that NME labelled ‘stale, complacent and half- arsed’. With Masses, they proved they were still raging against the dying of the light.

On its B-side was a cover of Chuck Berry’s Rock and Roll Music, which provided a mid-set highlight alongside Ready for Drowning. They even threw in Of Walking Abortion off The Holy Bible – surely the only time it’s ever been played at a New Year’s Eve party! At its conclusion, a smiling Wire said: ‘I bet the bar sold about 8 million pints during that one!’

Minutes before midnight, Bradfield dedicated Motorcycle Emptiness to the early disciples that came to their Cardiff University gigs. Then the band departed to enjoy the New Year celebrations privately. Thankfully, there was no sign of the apocalypse, just the usual fanfare of Auld Lang Syne.

With Stereophonics’ controversy at Morfa Stadium not long in the memory (following Kelly Jones’ performance of As Long as We Beat the English), NME’s review made for interesting reading: ‘The red dragons are, of course, everywhere but it’s not intimidating. Wales has emerged from the post-industrial sink and tonight the kids want to celebrate this (to be offended by the fury of red and white would be ridiculously urban and isolationist). It might be their victory and vindication, but everyone’s invited.’

Bradfield returned for an acoustic run-through of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You. In typically subversive Manics style, he then brought down the party vibes with a beautifully bleak solo rendition of Small Black Flowers That Grow in the Sky
dedicated to Richey Edwards.

Perhaps feeling the effects of the midnight champers, Nicky Wire performed Elvis Impersonator spreadeagled across the stage before a life-affirming triple-header of You Love Us, Stay Beautiful and If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next. At one point, Bradfield screamed, ‘Millennium consciousness means f*** all,’ meaning all the over-the-top media coverage was a load of rubbish and we had all made it through to the other side.

Describing the event as one of the best nights of their lives, there was still one last hurdle to overcome – the small matter of a global audience of 2 billion via the BBC.

With manager Martin Hall gesticulating wildly for the band to concentrate on the ten-second countdown, Bradfield delivered a brilliantly back-handed tribute to the Welsh capital: ‘Cardiff – the most beautiful place on earth…tonight at least.’ Not even a broken guitar strap during an epic finale of A Design for Life phased him. All that was left to do was for a knackered Nicky Wire to destroy his bass. ‘I still haven’t got over it,’ he said. ‘James was up till ten the next morning. I stayed up till five through nervous excitement really. We kind of said we’d do this ten years ago and everyone laughed at us then.’

The Manics are still here nearly forty years on from their inception. In 1991, Steve Lamacq asked Richey Edwards if the Manics were for real. Ever since, they’ve confounded their critics and brushed aside pretenders to their throne.
As NME’s review concluded: ‘The Manics’ armour is rusting, waiting for a new champion’s blade to finally cut through the history and hysterics of the greatest band of the ’90s and leave them to rest in peace. ‘Until then the future somehow, incredibly, still belongs to them.’

International Velvet: How Wales Conquered the ’90s Charts is available now via Calon in bookshops and online here: linktr.ee/neilcollins123

Listen to the Welsh Music Podcast’s 20th anniversary special from 2019 on Manic Millennium featuring Neil Collins, James Cuff and Nation Cymru’s very own David Owens here: https://t.co/tNL6fPaSYY