‘Il Pasqualino’; Alberobello’s famous sandwich

Food Living in Italy Travel 4 Comments

We are all going to die.  Unfortunately, this is an inconvenient, unavoidable fact of life.  However, once you have passed onto the next world, how would you like to be remembered?  A quaint wooden bench in a public park dedicated to your memory?  Your ashes placed in an attractive urn overlooking the family dining table so that you can watch over them as they eat?  Or perhaps you would like a distinctive tree planted in your honour?  Or you could have an item of food or even better, a panino named after you so that your essence can live on every time someone takes a bite of an unusual, yet delicious sandwich?  Well, that is exactly what happened with Pasquale Dell’Erba from Alberobello and ‘Il Pasqualino’.  

Pasquale’s views on life after death are not well-documented but one thing is clear; he made a bloody good sandwich (or panino in Italian).  He owned and ran a delicatessen on the corner of Corso Vittorio Emanuele and Via Cesare Battisti in the Pugliese town of Alberobello – famous internationally for its white, conically-shaped dwellings known as trulli.  His trademark sandwich started to attract attention in the town during the mid-1960s after he began rustling it up for a small group of three or four of his close friends who would meet regularly in front of his shop.

La Pagnottella’s version of ‘Il Pasqualino’

The ingredients varied a little from time to time and depending what was available in his deli, but usually the panino consisted of tuna, capers, salami and provolone cheese.  Always in that order and served in either turtle bread (pane tartaruga) or rosetta bread (rosette di pane).  It may not initially sound that appetising but the combination worked very well and soon its popularity caught on.  The sandwich became a hit with students from several local schools in the area who loved the fact that it was not only good value but also substantial and made using an unusual mix of hearty ingredients.  

Soon, Pasquale’s deli couldn’t keep up with the demand and they began pre-making a batch of panini first thing in the morning and then refrigerating them so that they would be instantly ready as customers arrived throughout the course of the day.  The term Il Pasqualino (‘The Pasqualino’) was born.  Over the next coming decades other bakeries in Alberobello started to serve their own version of the Pasqualino too, sometimes adding ingredients such as marinated mushrooms, pickles or other cold cuts of meat.  However, by the 1990s, these bakeries’ tradition of keeping a chest of readymade Pasqualinos in their shops began to fade and it became something of a well-kept local secret.  Pasquale’s memory lived on but only amongst those in the know in Alberobello.

Today, you can go into any deli, bakery or café in Alberobello, ask for “un Pasqualino, per favore” and they will know exactly what to make, even though very often it will not be listed anywhere on the menu, or on the board outside.  When I visited Alberobello last summer, I avoided the overpriced cafes on the main tourist drag near the ‘trulli zone’ and instead popped into La Pagnottella (Piazza Plebiscito, 10B) around the corner from Chiesa di San Lucia and the popular viewing platform next to it.  It is actually quite an upmarket deli that also serves an array of pastries and cakes (sadly I don’t have much of a sweet tooth so give me a sandwich laden with capers and cured meat and fish any day), as well as cheese and fresh pasta.

The lady behind the counter was very friendly and humoured my basic cod-Italian and quickly made me a Pasqualino from scratch – from what I could see, sticking to the traditional ingredients but with the addition of some pickles and a drizzle of olive oil.  It was delicious and actually went down very well with an iced coffee on a sweltering summer’s day; the acidity of the capers and pickles cutting through the meat and cheese.  The only word of warning is that there was a lot of olive oil – it’s definitely worth picking up an extra napkin or two before you leave the shop.

  • Signor Pasquale Dell’Erba, the creator of ‘The Pasqualino’ (photo: Alberobello.com).
  • Signor Pasquale Dell’Erba, the creator of ‘The Pasqualino’ (photo: Alberobello.com).

A word about Alberobello

Alberobello is a UNESCO World Heritage site, having been recognised in 1996 and is one of the most famous tourist destinations in Puglia.  The town is renowned for having the largest concentration of trulli (the plural form of ‘trullo’) anywhere in the world.  These conical, low-level, whitewashed buildings are particular to Puglia and they actually can’t be found anywhere else outside of Southern Italy.  There is also some debate about whether the author J.R.R. Tolkien ever visited Puglia and if the trulli served as the real-life inspiration for his novel The Hobbit and the fictional world of Middle-earth and the region where the hobbits lived called The Shire.

One of the main concentrations of trulli in Alberobello.

Trullis can be found dotted all over Puglia.  Whilst many of them are still private residential dwellings, a lot of them have now been converted into holiday homes, agriturismos, shops and restaurants.  The story of the trulli begins in the 14th century.  The ruling Aquaviva family was keen to avoid paying high property taxes to the Kingdom of Naples, so ordered local peasants to build homes that could be easily taken down, in the event on an inspection.  Using the ancient drywall (mortarless) building technique and locally-sourced limestone boulders, the trullis started to appear all over Puglia and became a symbol of the region.  Centuries later, many new homes were built in this style, partly as an act of defiance to the ruling family. 

Whilst I was keen to visit Alberobello at some stage whilst living in Bari, it wasn’t at the top of my list.  I prioritised the baroque and culinary delights of Lecce and the coastal towns Santa Maria di Leuca and Gallipoli first.  I actually only stopped off Alberobello for a couple of nights as I was going to the pared-down Locus Festival in nearby Locorotondo and accommodation there was completely fully-booked.  

The Comet is Coming at Locus Festival. 14th August 2020.

Locus Festival happens every summer in Puglia and in previous years has attracted the likes of David Byrne, Esperanza Spalding, Four Tet, Floating Points, Lauryn Hill, Theo Parrish, Sly & Robbie and Kamasi Washington to the picturesque town of Locorotondo.  Pre-Covid, Locus 2020 had announced a stellar line-up featuring The Pixies, Little Simz, Paul Weller and Kokoroko but sadly the event had to be completely scaled back and most of the acts were unable to play.  However, miraculously, some (socially-distanced) gigs were still able to go ahead in the grounds of the Masseria Ferragnano and I saw saxophonist Shabaka Hutchings’ experimental jazz outfit The Comet Is Coming play there.  I had seen Shabaka and the band several times in London and at Green Man Festival, so it was a strange experience seeing them playing a gig in the south of Italy during a pandemic year, but a great show all the same. 

The following morning, I woke up at 6am and found myself unable to go back to sleep; partly due to the sunlight pouring into my room through a broken blind.  It was actually a blessing in disguise as after a typically unsatisfying Italian breakfast of biscuits, pastries and coffee, I was able to explore the trullis of Alberobello without the hordes of tourists and with the August temperatures yet to reach their peak.  

The streets and trullis of Alberobello at 7am on a Saturday morning.

There really is no other place in the world like it and the town took on an otherworldly feel at 7am when the streets were quiet apart from a few local businesses opening up for the day.  This would be my tip for anyone visiting Alberobello; get up very early and explore the streets without the crowds.  Find somewhere for a lunchtime Pasqualino and then have an afternoon pisolino afterwards, if you need it.  By 11am, the place was already swarming with selfie-stick wielding tourists and later that evening a bar tried to charge me €9 for a 330cl beer.  Needless to say, after speaking to the waiter, I did not pay this.  

Salvation was found in the excellent Ristorante La Nicchia though. Now, it did involve a slightly hazardous 15-minute walk (or five minutes if you are driving) along a busy (and dark) main road to get there but it was absolutely worth it.  Housed in a complex of trulli 1.5km outside of Alberobello, you immediately got the impression that this was where the locals ate.  Great Pugliese fare, a huge wine selection and wallet-friendly prices.  

  • The food at La Nicchia; Ravioli with almonds, lampascioni and burrata.
  • Braciole in tomato sauce.

For more background reading on Alberobello’s famous Pasqualino panino, head to the Il Panino Italiano Magazine website (yes, there really is a magazine dedicated to the art of the Italian sandwich). 

Brixton Calling

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In my recent post, ’20 years ago today life changed forever’, I talked about 30th March marking 20 years since my first ever live show – Manic Street Preachers at Brixton Academy, South London.  In this next article, I’ll pick up the story, as well as expanding a little on the impact the Manics have had on my life since then – a band I have gone on to see live some 22 times.

In the weeks leading up to the Manics’ Brixton Academy gig on 30th March 2001, my mate Mike and I spoke about little else.  Were we going to get crushed in the crowd?  Yes.  Was there going to be drugs?  Yes.  Would we be refused entry to the venue on account of our tender age (most shows were 14+).  Remarkably no.  

Mike’s older sister had been to a see System of a Down in concert a year prior and she had warned him that before the band appeared onstage, the venue had gone “completely pitch black” and then once Serj Tankian and co. emerged, “the lights went on and everyone went mental and started moshing”.  Such reports only added to our sense of anticipation and our apprehension increased when it was announced that My Vitriol were to be added to the bill as the support band.  

They were a great group and had recently released the brilliant, futuristic-sounding debut album Fine Lines.  However, they were on the heavier side of things and had one song ‘C.O.R (Critic Orientated Rock)’ where frontman Som Wardner pretty much screamed non-stop for 40 seconds.  We began to imagine what injuries might be inflicted upon us in the ensuing circle pit that we would of course, be forced by audience members to take part in.  In our heads, the other participants would naturally be a mixture of six foot four rugby players and chain-wielding metalheads. 

30th March eventually came around and Mike’s dad, affectionately known as ‘Big Mike’ (he was actually quite slight in frame) had agreed to escort us to Brixton.  After driving to Didcot, we took the train to Paddington and then the Bakerloo and Victoria lines to Brixton.  We had worked out that arriving at the venue at 4pm, three hours before the doors opened should give us enough time to ‘get down the front’.  On arrival at Brixton Academy on Stockwell Road, there were already several hundred fans queuing up down the alley to the right of the venue   We unzipped our Nirvana hoodies (much to the visible chagrin of the somewhat aloof leopard skin and feather boa brigade who looked like they had been queuing all day) to reveal our homemade Manics-inspired shirts; mine emblazoned with ‘Culture of Destruction’ and Mike’s with ‘Useless Generation’ and began the long wait for the doors to open.  Big Mike, meanwhile was left to fend for himself in Brixton for seven hours until the gig finished.

  • My much-cherished, homemade ‘Culture of Destruction’ shirt.
  • ‘New Art Riot’ on the front.

Whilst Big Mike very kindly gave up his day to take us to London, my parents also did more than their fair share of ferrying my friends and I to gigs during our teenage years and played a big role in my musical education.  They had some memorable encounters too; whilst waiting for us to leave The Cooper Temple Clause’s gig at the Portsmouth Pyramids (a review I wrote is still online here from 2003), they witnessed a group of girls literally falling out of a taxi onto the ground, mimicking the famous Ab Fab scene. 

On another occasion, whilst waiting for us to leave the Southampton Guildhall after a Supergrass show in 2002, my Dad spotted a worse-for-wear-looking girl in a leather jacket and short denim skirt walking past his car eating a bag of chips.  On closer inspection, he realised that it was a man and it was only after talking to us after the gig did he realise that it was in fact Pete Doherty, co-frontman of The Libertines.  The band were in that ascendancy at that time and had been supporting Supergrass – Pete had taken to the stage in that very attire.  The less said about Ash’s gig at the Swindon Oasis Centre, the forgotten tickets and the additional 80-mile round trip they had to make on our behalf, the better.  We had arrived at the gig so early though that we did get to briefly meet Tim Wheeler and Charlotte Hatherley from the band as they arrived by taxi from Swindon train station. 

Pete Doherty with The Libertines in that very same denim skirt and brown brogues combo. October 2002 (photos: Getty Images).

Back to Brixton and the queue was an education in itself.  In front of us was a serious-looking, heavily-eye shadowed couple who whiled away their time in the queue debating whether or not tonight could actually be Richey Edwards’ long-awaited comeback gig.  She was in full Generation Terrorists-era regalia; a pink feather boa, leopard print dress and tiara, whilst he wore a green army surplus store shirt with ‘Linguistics Die Easily’ stencilled on the back of it in red (a lyric from the song ‘Intravenous Agonistic’ that was on the new album Know Your Enemy).  We were also offered drugs for the first time in that queue; a cheeky-looking bloke popped up from around the corner asked us if we “wanted some skunk?”.  We were familiar with weed but the term skunk was new to us. The girl behind us explained to him that “she really wanted some but didn’t have any money” – unsurprisingly the pusher was unsympathetic to her plight and continued along the queue.

Photos 1.) and 4.) Dressed to see the Manics wearing my ‘Culture of Destruction shirt’. Cardiff, May 2007 (photos and eyeliner courtesy of my long-suffering old housemate Emily). 2.) The ticket stub for the Brixton Academy gig on 30th March 2001. 3.) Nicky Wire signing autographs outside Brixton Academy’s stage door after the gig (photo: Crucifix Kiss).

Finally, just after 7pm, security opened the doors to the venue and after a quick search by security staff on the door we were in.  Built in 1929, originally as the Astoria Variety Cinema, the 5,000-capacity Brixton Academy is one of London’s finest music venues.  Boasting an Art Deco exterior and marble-floored entrance lobby, its main auditorium was modelled in Italian Renaissance-style to resemble a Mediterranean garden and its ceiling, the night sky (there are some fantastic old photos on Albert Lloyd’s encyclopaedic theatre website here).  

  • Brixton Academy in years gone by when it was the Astoria Variety Cinema.
  • At capacity for The Decemberists in February 2015 (photo: Alison Clarke).

Simon Parkes famously bought the venue for £1 in 1983 (it was in a poor state and needed substantial repairs) and transformed it into the Brixton Academy we know today.  Parkes’ book ‘Live at Brixton Academy’ tells his story of the venue’s resurgence and is a great read for anyone with even the slightest interest in the venue.  Brixton Academy has been voted the UK’s Best Venue 12 times by the NME, was the location of The Smiths’ final ever gig in 1986 and in June 1996, Leftfield broke the world decibel record for a live concert when they reached levels of 137db.  The venue’s ceiling apparently started to disintegrate as a result and showered audience members with particles of plaster and dust. 

As part of the theatre’s rebirth as a music venue, the seats were removed but the gently sloping floor retained.  The result is one of the best views anywhere in London, with crash barriers strategically placed along the slope to prevent crowd surges.  It was the second barrier back from the stage (and still one of my favourite spots in the venue) where we positioned ourselves and waited for My Vitriol, and then the Manics. 

Brixton Academy’s interior and the barrier where we positioned ourselves that night in March 2001.

My Vitriol mooched onto the Brixton stage shrouded in smoke and obscured partly by low lighting and partly by their fringes.  They kicked off with the slow-building instrumental ‘Alpha Waves’ which then morphed into the recent single (and underrated classic) ‘Always: Your Way’ and as expected, a dedicated throng of fans directly in front of us started hurling themselves into each other in a frenzied circle pit for the duration of their performance (we were luckily protected by the barrier).  Their impressive set finished with frontman Som screaming into the microphone whilst sprawling around on the floor.  My Vitriol are still together today and I saw them again some 18 years later in 2019 with my friend Virginia at the Scala in King’s Cross.  They were still pretty good although strangely they now perform as a three-piece and the bassist seemed to have been curiously replaced with a backing track…

My Vitriol performing ‘Always: Your Way’ on Top Of The Pops – three weeks before we saw them at Brixton. February 23rd 2001

As we then waited for the Manics, we got chatting to the guy stood next to us in the crowd – a third year politics student called Andy.  A hardcore Manics fan, Andy was also equally as passionate about New York hip hop outfit the Beastie Boys and was writing his thesis about the feminist politics of the riot grrrl movement.  He was affable and incredibly polite – his profanity of choice was ‘sod’ – so we were suitably surprised when he removed his leather jacket to reveal a deeply offensive and blasphemous slogan on the back of his t-shirt.

The wait was over; the venue’s lights went down and the Manics stepped onto the stage to a rapturous reception; James and Sean in khaki shirts and Wire in heavy make-up and trademark white tennis skirt.  James’ guitar roared into the urgent power chord intro of ‘Found That Soul’ and from the moment Sean’s drums kicked in, the crowd surged forward and we were firmly pinned against the barrier for the duration of the gig.  It was actually quite fun though and added to the adrenaline even more.  A glorious-sounding ‘Motorcycle Emptiness’ followed and the band ploughed through a two-hour set of hits, material from Know Your Enemy and some fan favourites such as the brutal ‘Yes’ from The Holy Bible.  

The Manics onstage at Brixton Academy. March 2001 (photos: Getty Images).

The whole experience was euphoric and rushed by – the adrenaline almost taking us to an altered state of being.  The band were so much louder than My Vitriol had been and the swaying and surging movement of the crowd meant that Mike and I ended up quite a few metres away from each other by the end of the show.  We were ‘treated’ to Nicky Wire’s Mark E. Smith-esque singing on ‘Wattsville Blues’ and ‘Miss Europa Disco Dancer’ (James took over bass duties on a double-necked guitar for both songs whilst Wire strummed a Fender Strat), an acoustic rendition of ‘Baby Elian’ and ‘This Is Yesterday’ and then a triumphant closing trio of ‘If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next’, ‘You Love Us’ and ‘A Design For Life’.  

The Manics never play encores and with that they were gone; the venue’s lights went up as we slowly filed out of the venue to the strains of the psychedelic interlude of ‘Let Robeson Sing’ B-side ‘Masking Tape’ being played over the PA.  We met Big Mike outside the front of Brixton Academy and it turned out that one of the security staff had taken pity on him waiting for us holding two teenagers’ hoodies and let him sneak into the back of the venue to watch the end of the band’s set.  “They were really good” he beamed afterwards; “although they swear a lot, don’t they?”.   

I had been very conscious of not eating or drinking anything all afternoon in case a call of nature meant losing my spot in the crowd.  I remember downing an extra-large coke immediately after the gig in one of the fast food joints on Brixton Road but had zero appetite after hours of being crushed and not drinking any water.  Ironically, as a 20-something I would move into a small flat on the very road that Brixton Academy is situated on and would often stop off at these fried chicken shops on the way home after a boozy night out.  It’s funny how life works out and Stockwell Road and its Little Portugal neighbourhood (it’s home to London’s biggest Portuguese community) is somewhere I always feel very much at home.

“We’re a mess of eyeliner and spraypaint” – an evening at Newbridge Memo, Gwent

To-date I’ve seen the Manics some 22 times and being a fan of the band is a big part of my identity.  Whenever you meet someone new and they say that they’re a Manics fan, you tend to have an idea about their politics, outlook on life and the books, music and art they’re likely to be into.  I’ve had too many memorable experiences as a result of seeing the band live to really do justice here but one that immediately springs to mind was after seeing James Dean Bradfield play a fundraiser at the Newbridge Memo in South Wales in 2006 – a venue whose bar he used to work at as an 18-year-old. 

Newbridge Memorial Hall (known locally as ‘The Memo’) and the room that James Dean Bradfield played in (the rest of the venue was undergoing refurbishment at the time).

I was at university in Cardiff and writing music reviews at the time and the Manics’ PR agency Hall or Nothing had arranged a pair of free tickets to the show.  I commandeered my good mate Chris to come along with me and after a bus to Blackwood and then a walk into nearby Newbridge, we arrived the venue.  The place was originally built in 1898 as a miner’s institute and working men’s club and they were trying to raise funds for the refurbishment of their art deco cinema auditorium on the upper floor (this has happily now been restored to its former glory).  The gig was great – one of the highlights being a cover of ‘Clampdown’ by The Clash.  We even met James after the gig and had a quick chat with him about the music venues he used to play in Cardiff when the band was just starting out – see the photo below.  Yes; I am wearing a crucifix.  

Chris and I with James Dean Bradfield. Newbridge Memo, 14th October 2006.

We had made friends that night with two other Manics fans that we recognised from uni, Owen and Rhys.  It was only after the gig had finished that we realised that the buses back to Cardiff had stopped and that we were stranded in Newbridge – 20 miles away.   Our first port of call was the local pub to see if they had a spare room we could bed down in for the night.  They didn’t but the locals at the bar were very welcoming, despite their intimidating appearance, asking us how the gig was and giving us a local taxi number.  

No taxis were in the area so eventually we went back to the venue and explained the situation.  One of the barmaids was closing for the night and to our amazement she said that she would drive us back to Cardiff once her shift finished. After stopping off at her house to explain where she was going to her husband, it took a good 30 minutes for us to reach Cardiff and when we got there she wouldn’t accept any money from us for petrol – “we just like to see everyone getting home safely”, she explained.  She even dropped Chris and I off at the Barfly nightclub so we could meet some of our mates.  That unique evening in Newbridge taught me a lot about the kindness and community spirit of the rural South Wales communities.  What an absolute legend that lady was. 

There were other stories too; Owen, Rhys and I bumped into Welsh rugby prop Adam Jones munching on a kebab on Caroline Street, Cardiff’s famous ‘Chippy Lane’, after the Manics’ show at the university’s Great Hall.  He took one look at our get-up and stencilled shirts and asked; “Been to see the Manics have you lads?’’ 

“Love your masks and adore your failure” – being banned from the school music block

Then there was the incident of my first ever ‘gig’ as a musician in 2001.  Inspired by what we had seen at Brixton Academy in March, Mike and I had formed a rudimentary band with a drummer called Kevin and we had been allowed to stage a short three-song performance to our class in our Music lesson on Friday afternoon.  We spent as much time decorating the ‘stage’ as we did rehearsing our songs and we decided to play three Manics tracks; ‘Found That Soul’, ‘You Love Us’ and ‘Stay Beautiful’.  Not only did ‘Stay Beautiful’ contain swearing in the chorus (it was replaced by a guitar lick on the single recording) but we actively encouraged our fellow classmates to shout this back to us, call and response-style.

The gig went down well and there were lots of cheers but the teachers were less impressed (“if you think you can get away with performing a song like that you are sadly mistaken!”).  We were placed in detention and banned from the music block for the rest of the year (it wasn’t the end of the world, we just started practising in the sports hall instead).  However, there was some retribution in the form of our free-thinking drama teacher Class Tutor Mr Hudson (once a technician for folk musician John Martyn) who said he thought the lyrics were “rather good” after we showed him a printed copy.  

An early line-up of my Manics-inspired group Felix Mandelson, summer 2001. Left-to-right; new bassist Charlie, Kevin, Mike and myself.

Manic Street Preachers are set to release album number 14 (“like The Clash playing ABBA”) in September this year and Nicky Wire has been quoted as saying that the album is “bathed in comforting melancholia” and that the lyrics explore “the tension between online connectivity and healthy solitude”, with Bradfield adding that the pandemic has made him realise he’d “undervalued absolutely everything in my life.”  It will certainly make for an intriguing listen.  Long live the Manics.  

The Manics’ very own rendition of ‘Stay Beautiful’, live at the Millennium Stadium, Cardiff. New Year’s Eve 1999.

Gary Mabbutt; a Tottenham icon

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The player on the left is Gary Mabbutt playing against Feyenoord in the UEFA Cup second round in 1983.  He spent 16 years at Tottenham, captaining the team from 1987 until 1998 and was the first captain I can remember after starting to support Spurs during the 1994/5 season. 

Mabbutt overcame several barriers to becoming a professional footballer, including Type 1 diabetes and severe asthma and he also battled to return to the first team after two serious injuries; a fractured skull sustained in a match against Wimbledon in 1993 and badly breaking his leg in a game at Blackburn in 1996.  He led by example both on and off the pitch (he lifted the FA Cup for us in 1991) and now dedicates his time to being a club ambassador and working with street children and diabetes charities.  

During the recent pandemic, he revealed how he has been working with a loneliness charity and has personally made over 1,300 phone calls to elderly and vulnerable people since the first lockdown began in March 2020.

Gary on his charity work during the pandemic

Gary embodies the true spirit of Tottenham Hotspur, not ENIC or the travesty that is the proposed European Super League. The only ray of light following the ESL and Jose Mourinho news today is that our former midfielder Ryan Mason may get his chance to shine as a promising young manager in the League Cup Final next Sunday after having his playing career so cruelly cut short by injury aged just 26.  Onwards from here.  To dare is to do.

Gary relives Tottenham’s 1991 FA Cup Final victory at Wembley

This is Your Life; Gary Mabbutt – 1999

20 years ago today life changed forever

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Note: I began writing this piece earlier in the week and planned to publish it sooner but was unfortunately sidelined for a few days with some Covid vaccine side effects.  Whilst I’m eternally grateful for receiving the Oxford-AstraZeneca jab, it was best to rest up for a couple of days until the aches and fever subsided.  For those who are yet to be vaccinated; the side effects are nothing to worry about – they just made me more inclined to pop paracetamol, binge Rick Stein’s BBC series on India and watch England unconvincingly beat Poland in the World Cup qualifiers than turn my attentions to creative writing.

30th March 2021, Bari

20 years ago today my life changed and it would never be the same again.  After several months of anticipation and numerous phone conversations between anxious parents, my old pal Mike and I saw the Manic Street Preachers live at Brixton Academy, South London – my first ‘proper’ gig (I’m not counting Slade’s performance at a guitar show at the Birmingham NEC the year before).  Live music has been a huge part of me ever since – I’ve played over 350 gigs in various groups myself and whilst I cannot put an exact figure on it, I estimate that I’ve seen well over 1,000 artists perform in the subsequent two decades.

I had been heavily into the Manics from the age of 11 onwards after being given 1998’s huge number one album This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours for my birthday on cassette.  The album contained a string of massive singles but I was more intrigued by the R.S. Thomas quote in the liner notes and the complex nature of some of the lyrics.  I found out that the hit single ‘If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next’ had been written about the Spanish Civil War, ‘S.Y.M.M.’ a reaction to the Hillsborough Disaster and that ‘Tsunami’ concerned the troubled ‘Silent Twins’, Jennifer and June Gibbons, who only communicated with each other using a language unique to them and shunned the outside world.  I discovered the band had a chequered and much more radical history, prior to their recent mainstream success and I was captivated.

The Manics onstage at Wembley Arena with The Anchoress. May 2018.

My school friend (and early bandmate) Mike ‘got’ the band’s appeal too and soon the Manics had usurped Nirvana as our favourite band and were a major influence on an early line-up of our teenage band Felix Mandelson.  We bought all of the band’s older albums and it’s safe to say that the band soon held deity-like status for us.  When we spotted a red full-page ad written in block capitals in a copy of NME in early 2001 announcing a UK tour for their latest album Know Your Enemy, we knew we had to get tickets to one of the London shows – two consecutive nights at Brixton Academy. 

The back of a bootleg tour t-shirt I bought on the pavement outside Brixton Academy and the Spanish Civil War that inspired the number one hit single ‘If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next’.

Our parents were initially wary as we were only 13.  Whilst I had an older sister living in Bermondsey in South London, Brixton rightly or wrongly, had a reputation as a dangerous and lawless place and to my emerging musical knowledge, Brixton Academy was a venue more favoured by the dance music fraternity – The Chemical Brothers and Fatboy Slim had both recently played huge shows there.  However; eventually it was decided that we could go and after phoning the venue to ask for more information about the show, a very helpful member of staff at the Academy told my parents that it “was an ideal place for a first gig” and even explained in detail about the “sloping floor that means you get a good view wherever you stand”.  Thank you to whoever was manning the venue’s phone lines that day.  

“We live in urban hell, we destroy rock and roll’

For the unfamiliar; I will try to sum up the Manics’ story. Summarising 30 years of history in a few paragraphs is no easy task.  Formed in the mid-1980s in the South Wales mining town of Blackwood in Gwent, two cousins James Dean Bradfield and Sean Moore (they were actually more like brothers after Sean moved in with the Bradfields following his parents’ acrimonious divorce) formed a band with school friend and aspiring footballer Nick Jones (known as Nicky Wire due to his gangly frame) and later the slightly older and fiercely intellectual Richey Edwards.  Spending much of their formative years ensconced in James and Sean’s bedroom, the friends devoured Situationist literature, leftfield films and a whole host of musical influences ranging from Guns N’ Roses and Rush to Magazine and Wire to Public Enemy and James’ love of the melodies of Motown Records to C86-era obscurities like The June Brides and Tallulah Gosh.  

The Manics (left-to-right); James Dean Bradfield, Richey Edwards, Nicky Wire, Sean Moore) outside the gates to Buckingham Palace. January 1991.

Their nihilistic early singles ‘Suicide Alley’ (1988, self-financed) and ‘New Art Riot’ (1990, Damaged Goods) were massively out of place against the cultural backdrop of the ecstasy-fuelled acid house scene and the so-called Second Summer of Love of ’89 but got the band noticed.  A press release written by Edwards from this time claims “We are as far away from anything in the ’80s as possible” and on stage the band would wear white shirts that they stencilled with slogans such as ‘Culture of Destruction’, ‘Useless Generation’, ‘Lonesome Aesthetic’ and ‘Kill Yourself’.  The Manics signed initially to Heavenly Recordings where they released the two classic singles ‘Motown Junk’ and ‘You Love Us’ before moving to Sony imprint Columbia Records on a long-term album deal.  The Manics were one of the first bands signed by a certain Rob Stringer who has since gone onto become Chairman of Sony Music Group and CEO of Sony Music Entertainment.  They remain close friends to this day and this relationship may well be central to the band’s longevity on the label.

‘Motown Junk’ live at the Marquee Club, Soho in 1991. This video is notable for the dozens of stage divers who invade the band’s performance!

The Manics released their debut album Generation Terrorists in 1992, an 18-track opus of incendiary lyrics and political polemic set against squealing guitars and a very American-sounding stadium rawk production.  It did have some brilliant moments though namely, the precociously ambitious ‘Motorcycle Emptiness’, ‘Little Baby Nothing’ and ‘Stay Beautiful’.  The band’s public persona became more set in stone during this era too; singer / guitarist Bradfield and drummer Moore were the musical masterminds who wrote the songs and rhythm guitarist Edwards and bassist Wire the outspoken ‘Glamour Twins’ who drafted the lyrics, gave interviews and dictated the band’s aesthetic.  The band claimed they had “made the greatest rock album ever” and that they would split up after selling 16 million copies.  29 years and 12 albums later, the band are still together.

The official video to ‘Motorcycle Emptiness’, filmed in Tokyo in 1992 and an unofficial influence on the future Sofia Coppola film ‘Lost in Translation’.

1993’s follow-up Gold Against The Soul, recorded at the sumptuous residential studio Hook End Manor was a fairly forgettable, more radio-friendly affair but the Manics hit their creative peak with 1994’s The Holy Bible.  Recorded cheaply in an industrial estate behind Cardiff Central train station and containing a set of dark existential lyrics from Richey Edwards (themes included suicide, anorexia, prostitution and the holocaust), the album is a difficult album to listen to but is pretty much flawless from start to finish and remains the group’s creative benchmark.  However, Edwards’ mental health had begun to unravel as early as 1991 when he carved the words ‘4 Real’ into his arm with a razor blade in front of the then-NME journalist Steve Lamacq who had been questioning the group’s integrity and he went onto be hospitalised on more than one occasion for depression, anorexia and alcoholism. 

Clockwise (from top left); 1.) and 2.) The band’s regulation military uniforms of The Holy Bible-era. 3.) Jenny Saville’s artwork for The Holy Bible album 4.) Richey Edwards following the notorious ‘4 Real’ incident. 5.) James Dean Bradfield and Sean Moore onstage at the London Astoria in December 1994 – Richey’s last ever show with the band.

On 1st February 1995, Edwards vanished from his hotel room in Bayswater, West London on the eve of the band’s US tour to promote The Holy Bible.  He left behind a book of lyrics (these would finally be used on the band’s 2009 Journal for Plague Lovers album) and some mysterious photos of foreign-looking buildings.  His Vauxhall Cavalier was found abandoned near the old Severn Bridge at Aust Services but he had also regularly been withdrawing £200 every day from his bank account in the weeks leading up to the disappearance.  Richey Edwards has never been found and sadly both of his parents have since passed away without knowing what happened to their son. 

In the 2019 book ‘Withdrawn Traces’, Sara Hawys Roberts and Leon Noakes (with the full cooperation of Edwards’ sister Rachel) made a convincing argument that Richey had staged his disappearance; he had long been fascinated by recluses and self-imposed exile and had talked about wanting to spend time in Israel, living on a kibbutz. Whatever happened to Richey Edwards; one thing is clear; he did not want to be found.

After consulting Richey’s parents, the band made the difficult decision to continue as a three-piece (Edwards’ main artistic contribution was his lyrics and image – he didn’t usually contribute musically to albums and his guitar was turned down low in the mix at live shows).  The sloganeering shirts of yesteryear and military uniforms of The Holy Bible-era were gone and they returned with a more palatable image and the Phil Spector-inspired Everything Must Go album in 1996.  The lead single ‘A Design for Life’ became one of the decade’s most famous and recognisable songs although it’s chorus lyric of “We only want to get drunk” was frequently wrongly interpreted by lager lads as a drinking anthem, when it fact it was a critical comment on how the powers that be often looked down sneeringly at the working class.  The song opened with the line “Libraries gave us power” which was inspired by an inscription above the former library in Pillgwenlly, Newport and fittingly the Manics opened Cardiff’s new library in 2009.

The release of Everything Must Go finally resulted in mainstream success for the new three-piece Manics and both the album and its ’98 follow-up This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours were certified multi-platinum, spawned numerous Top 10 singles and saw the band pick up BRIT Awards on two separate occasions for Best British Group and Best British Album.  The band saw in the year 2000 with a huge show at Cardiff’s newly-built Millennium Stadium in front of 60,000 fans and bizarrely, they also knocked Westlife off the top spot to claim the first UK number one single of the new millennium with the abrasive standalone track ‘The Masses Against The Classes’.  

However, mainstream success and being the new darlings of the music industry sat uncomfortably with the Manics and This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours’ successor Know Your Enemy, released on 19th March 2001 was a challenging, sprawling, 16-track album taking in a myriad of genres and influences.  There was primal rock reminiscent of The Stooges (‘Found That Soul’), sunshine ‘60s pop (‘So Why So Sad’), lo-fi (‘Wattsville Blues’), a futuristic take on punk (‘Intravenous Agnostic’ and ‘Dead Martyrs’) and even disco (‘Miss Europa Disco Dancer’) – Diana Ross’ ‘My Old Piano’ was the first single James ever bought, after all.  

Jeremy Deller’s video for ‘Found That Soul’.

The artwork, created by Welsh painter Neale Howells featured a blood-stained, lyric-covered wall and throughout the album were lyrical references to leftist politics and in particular, the United States’ relationship with the outside world.  The album contained a paean to Elián González (‘Baby Elian’), the Cuban child who had been the subject of an intense custody battle involving the US and Cuban governments, a tribute to the singer and Civil Rights activist Paul Robeson, who also spent time in Cuba (‘Let Robeson Sing’), a track featuring My Bloody Valentine guitarist Kevin Shields called ‘Freedom of Speech Won’t Feed My Children’ and even a curious cover of ‘We Are all Bourgeois’ by ‘80s far-left indie group McCarthy.  

Neale Howells’ artwork for Know Your Enemy and the cover to ‘The Masses Against The Classes’ – the first UK number one single of the new millennium.

This album felt like it was the Manics flexing their creative muscle again, reconnecting with their more radical roots and perhaps alienating some of their newer, more casual fans in the process.  This sentiment was reinforced when it was announced that the group would be launching the album with a show at the Karl Marx Theatre in Havana, Cuba becoming the first Western group to play in the country since Billy Joel 20 years earlier.  The Brixton Academy show on 30th March was only their fourth show since the monumental Havana gig and it’s against this backdrop that we’ll return to that evening in 2001 in the next instalment… 

Brixton Academy, Stockwell Road, South London.

All written copy and materials are the intellectual property of Clive Drew. 2024 ©

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