The emptiness tells its own story
“Blank Diary Entry” stands alone and stranded from the rest of the album, with a lot of detail that contributes to its overall somewhat aloof mood. Buried in the back end of the album, it’s a sudden move away from the general mindset of the album, and a curious side step at that.
For one, it’s the album’s most guitar-oriented song. James’ guitar mainly plays supporting role throughout the album and even when it appears more prominently, it’s never the kind of grand guitar wall experience that Manics used to be known for. Nor does that happen in this song either, and it’s instead a collage of James casting his net to a wide range of styles and bringing them together through interspersed layers. The textural background guitar of the verses, the jangly acoustic that acts as the propulsive push forward, the stylish licks of the chorus and the familiar melodic arpeggios, even the atmospheric solo – there’s a lot of guitar throughout “Blank Diary Entry” but every time it appears, it sounds completely different – like different players dipping in and out of the song’s sound world without wanting to dominate the proceedings. The album’s signature piano is accounted for as well, but for one of the few times on the album the guitar feels like the lead instrument, even if it never clicks as one until you pay attention just how much it takes up of the general soundspace in all its various guises.
And to be fair, this isn’t completely unexpected from the Manics, it just isn’t something we haven’t necessarily heard in a long, long while. “Blank Diary Entry” gives me major deja vus to the Manics b-sides from around their classic hit days, circa 1996 to 2002. It’s got the same kind of melancholy murkiness and a low-stakes grounded quirkiness that the band used to tuck away as their bonus tracks when the albums received all the more cohesively put together songs. The song’s long outro, which wanders around searching for the ending in a manner that feels almost improvised, drills that comparison down even further: it’s the type of musical trailing-off that has been largely absent as they’ve cleaned up their act and stuck to more tightly-built songs. This isn’t a backhanded compliment and certainly not a put-down, either: that was a fantastic period for Manics songs and it’s almost warming to hear that touch appear again in the most unexpected of places. And it works, too.
What I’m not sure works as much are the featured co-lead vocals from Mark Lanegan (and I feel oddly bad for saying so given this was one of his last appearances before his untimely death). I’m generally a fan of Lanegan’s crawling drawl: every single syllable that he utters sounds like it dug out from the depths of hell, casting an impeccably heavy mood over any song he featured in. While the song’s generally murkier outset is a natural reservation for Lanegan’s voice to wander in, it’s awkward bedfellows with James’ smooth delivery. The two men sound like they’re invading each other’s presence rather than collaborating on a song, and it makes the track disjointed – it never sounds like a genuine duet but rather an awkward remix where neither singer ever so much as discussed their parts before recording them.
And that leaves me a little more conflicted about this song than I want, because I think it’s one of the more hidden surprises of The Ultra Vivid Lament. For a long time the only thing I could take away from the track was the illfitting nature of the vocals, and it wasn’t until I purposefully started listening to the track out of context and began to pay attention to everything that isn’t the vocals that the vividly layered backdrop became visible. As it stands now it’s a curiously compelling song, a strange sidetract from the album’s typical drivenly melodic form – a slow burner that’s easy to underestimate but reveals its secrets to patient listeners.
(final aside – if it wasn’t for the album clearly crediting all songs to the Manics, I’d have wagered the first verse to be written by Lanegan. The language is so unlike Wire’s current form and feels close to how he’d try to match Richey during the darker days. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s another passage where Wire has “taken inspiration” from someone else’s poem)
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