Manic Street Preachers – ‘Critical Thinking’ album review: battling disillusionment with resolve for the future
THE SKINNY: Nicky Wire, James Dean Bardfield, and Sean Moore have a lot on their mind. It’s charged, it’s angry, and yet it’s filled with the warmth of those who are still far from losing hope. This is clear the moment the opening track of Critical Thinking grabs and shakes both your shoulders with a desperate plea of urgency—bookended by hopeless Manic Street Preachers nostalgia.
Sonically, the record is everything you might expect from the Manics, gifting a much-needed and welcomed foray into all the indie and alternative heroes you’ve ever looked up to for riffing comfort in times of turmoil. Thematically, however, there’s far more than we bargained for, where unpacking starts and ends with the overwhelming realisation that, in trying times, we need hope and familiarity more than anything else.
That’s exactly how Critical Thinking feels—density and layered references aside—it’s an embrace into a territory we all know well, underscored by the familiar notes of indie-backed rage with a fervour that refuses to let up. Lyrically, it’s almost easy to say this is the Manics’ best work yet, and that’s all made possible by the unrelenting energy of a voice that can’t—and won’t—settle for anything less than the raw truth.
As we all grapple for connection in a world destined to rip apart the fragments of artistic intent, Critical Thinking bites back with vehemence, hinging on the familiar sounds of old with a new reverie that arrives with urgency and reflection. It’s as though the Manics can finally sit still without losing sight of the good fight, taking their history and blending it with a sense of resolve for the future. You’ve heard it before, but you may not have heard it this meaningfully.
For fans of: Pure indie throwbacks.
A concluding comment from my grandma: “Too much shouting. Can’t get past the first song. He ought to settle down and have a cuppa.”
Critical Thinking track by track:
Release: February 14th | Producer: Manic Street Preachers, Dave Eringa and Loz Williams | Label: Columbia Records
‘Critical Thinking’: “What happened to your critical thinking?” A catharsis you never knew you needed. It’s a mantra for the aggression that lurks within, a call to “be your authentic self” in a fractured world. It’s a cliché and an unkempt listing of everything wrong with modern society, but a strangely endearing one regardless. [3.5/5]
‘Decline & Fall’: Falling into the embrace of the here and now, ‘Decline and Fall’ once again reflects on the shortcomings of a failed world against the heartfelt promise of finding solace in someone else. There’s hope in the present despite the chaos. [3/5]
‘Brushstrokes of Reunion’: With an unmistakable Manics-esque riff, ‘Brushstrokes of Reunion’ delivers a heart-pumping, anthemic charge, capturing their signature nostalgic energy while fully embracing the intensity of the present. [3/5]
‘Hiding in Plain Sight’: Slower on the uptake than the other tracks, ‘Hiding in Plain Sight’ sees Wire delicately guiding the way towards self-reflection, navigating the perils of finding yourself in the crux of a battle of soul-searching: “I wanna be in love with the man I used to be, in a decade I felt free”. [3.5/5]
‘People Ruin Paintings’: The more enlivened, upbeat notes throughout ‘People Ruin Paintings’ complement its theme well, providing a momentary respite amid the broader explorations of disillusionment. The frustration still lurks, but this time, it comes with a calculated sense of reserve. [3/5]
‘Dear Stephen’: Undoubtedly one of the record’s most interesting tracks, sonically and thematically, ‘Dear Stephen’ feels like a bigger expression of endearment versus disappointment, referencing Morrissey’s familiar ‘I Know It’s Over’ wordplay, “It’s so easy to hate, it takes guts to be kind / To paraphrase one of your heartbreak lines”. [4/5]
‘Being Baptised’: Echoing the 1980s indie reverb that grabs you from the opening notes, ‘Being Baptised’ longs for the simplicity of the past, as if the golden era is still within reach—if only in dreams.[3/5]
‘My Brave Friend’: Executed with a deep sense of reflection and melancholy, ‘My Brave Friend’ feels like an addicting enduring swirl of emotion—ballad-like in its atmosphere, yet sweetly nostalgic in its melody. [3.5/5]
‘Out of Time Revival’: Another foray into those unmistakable ’80s-esque rhythms and atmospheres, ‘Out of Time Revival’ guides effortlessly, exploding into a pulsation of energy, enthusiasm, and longing for the sounds that once made you feel the most alive. [3.5/5]
‘Deleted Scenes’: Although the concept behind this track is slightly more complex to connect with for reasons unknown, the ethereal melodies of the accompanying arrangements are enough to guide the journey, drawing you in with its haunting soundscapes. [2.5/5]
‘Late Day Peaks’: There’s a slight playful undertone here, whether through the subtle Bowie-esque nature of the vocal delivery or whimsical arrangements, grounded with the twinkle of electronic flourishes. [3.5/5]
‘OneManMilitia’: “I don’t know what I am for, but I know what I am against”. Possibly one of the most lyrically important tracks on the record, ‘OneManMilitia’ tackles being “sick” of the “narratives” and reckoning with an inner disillusionment where everything becomes obscured and uncertain. [4/5]
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