Sometimes you put together the most seemingly odd combinations and magic happens. Combining Welsh-firebrands-turned-elder-statesmen Manic Street Preachers and pointed social commentators Suede in a jolly sunlit theme park on the south coast shouldn’t work, but once you’ve embraced just how surreal the situation is, there’s something rather lovely about this small-scale bonus show from two of Britpop’s most underrated and influential bands. Both Suede and Manic Street Preachers ostensibly finished their joint headlining tour the day before with a triumphal show at London’s Alexandra Palace Park, and their appearance at Margate Summer Series is neatly civilised epilogue, tucked behind a rickety wooden rollercoaster, just next to the ferris wheel.
Suede @ Margate Summer Series
It’s a “truly unique and original venue,” remarks Manic Street Preachers frontman James Dean Bradfield, squinting slightly at the still very bright sunlight bathing the crowd. They came onstage at quarter to eight, and slightly panicked fans who expected a more standard time slot for their heroes stream in throughout the welsh icons’ set. Technically, Manic Street Preachers are on top form, each note sharpened to perfection by years of wear, but their more fiery numbers are transmuted in this setting. You Stole The Sun From My Heart is robbed of its desperate passion, but now it’s a song to be clutched to the chest and held to keep the soul warm.
The first swirling chords of Motorcycle Emptiness spark a genuine reaction from many. Parents grab their children and rush past the fish and chip stalls to the front of the stage to explain that this is a song that means more than the sum of its notes. They slow A Design For Life for maximum effect, letting the echoing singalong wash over them, every word muttered and held tight against the simplicity of the shuddering fade out.
Of course, every set is a balancing act between the radio favourites and the riskier, more obscure songs. The crowd aren’t here for the “deep album cuts”, as Bradfield puts it, but they really should have been. The rarities that Manic Street Preachers choose to share tonight are brilliant, showcasing the outsider-intellectual tone that they’ve cultivated since over the last three decades. Easy emptiness laps like waves during Little Baby Nothing, and Walk Me To The Bridge is cut with drama behind the swells of the strings. Bradfield projects a gloss and nonchalance to the bleaker lines in Orwellian, connecting with the core fans who have climbed the trees nearest to the stage for a better look, much to the annoyance of the the security guards. Finishing with If You Tolerate This Then Your Children Will Be Next is almost expected, but still tremendously welcome. Bradfield’s understated vocals feel personal, almost conversational, before he leads the chant on the melody that shines like a call to our past.
It’s easy to lump Suede in with the Manics in terms of music history, but their sets tonight serve as a testament to just how diverse the Britpop scene was. “It doesn’t matter how many times they grind us down; we always come back,” shouts Suede frontman Brett Anderson, his trademark tailored white shirt glued to his body with sweat, opening his set with She. It’s the tour debut for this track, and there’s a shocking freshness to their entire set. “I know what you’re thinking: it’s Friday night, I want to hear a brand new song I don’t know,” laughs Anderson before testing new song Antidepressants, a small dose of arty soul-searching that fits in with the rest of their back catalogue to a tee. It’s the older songs that hold the most power though: Animal Nitrate’s spiked energy pulses with an aura of elegant decay, and Anderson twirls his mic like a baton, sending whirlpools of searchlights across the area in time with Film Star’s chunky baseline.
Saturday Night displays Suede’s softer side, the first of so many charming moments sandwiched in between the bombastic indie rock. Their lovely and intimate rendition rich with the consolation of the familiar and domestic as the vocalist jumps into the crowd and lets us take the lead, our voices rising above the tinny organ and dusty fairy lights. He dedicates the tightly plotted, raw She Still Leads Me On to ‘anyone who’s lost a parent’, and The Wild Ones is transformed into a joyfully simple acoustic gem, complete with a gorgeous howl to finish. “We come in peace, we leave you in peace,” quips the frontman before we’re all made beautiful in the reflection of the fairground lights for Beautiful Ones. At the front of the stage, a girl in a fairy costume jumps with glee, her tinsel wings moving out of time to the echoed chorus, overcome with the renewed power of Suede.
While the chronicles of nineties music in the UK will always focus on the eternal conflict between Blur and Oasis, or Jarvis Cocker’s unfortunate stage invasion during the Brit Awards, bands like Suede and the Manics still hold their own against the heavyweights. When the night finally draws in, and the absurdity of seeing your favourites performing by the carousel is replaced by the nostalgic sweetness of twinkling lights, there’s a satisfaction to be gained from knowing that, even when putting together two diverse bands in an unlikely setting, sometimes it all works out for the best.
Review of Manic Street Preachers and Suede at Dreamland, Margate on 19th July 2024 by Kate Allvey, photos courtesy of Dreamland Margate.
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