Love Torn Us Under

Betray my other self

The clear lesser of the two acoustic The Holy Bible b-sides. To the credit of “Love Torn Us Under”, its atmosphere matches that of its parent album even though the arrangement is so much calmer and stripped down in comparison. James weaves a particularly unrelenting, tense atmosphere on “Love Torn Us Under”: the same tension that coils through the album is building up here as well.

Beyond that though, it’s just not working. The lyrics – clearly more of a Wire job than Richey – try to match the overall density of this era but it’s a lot of word salad that attempts to seem more meaningful than you can actually decipher. The way human emotion is personified into a tangible “her” is drawing parallels to “She Is Suffering”, and that trick didn’t warrant a reprise. James’ central melody isn’t particularly inspired (and honestly who could blame him given how chaotic the life in the band must’ve been around the time he was told to record more b-sides) and the chorus is downright melodramatic, and the guitar solo that pops off the cork of the song is overwrought and out of place.

“Love Torn Us Under” sounds like it’s posing as a dark song to match the other genuinely grim songs of the era – a made-to-fit order rather than a genuine inspiration. It’s okay, but absolutely in the bottom tier of James’ solo b-sides.

[edited 15/03/2022]

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Sculpture of Man

World War Three, a Sega dreamland

How can something sound both so unhinged and so hilarious at the same time?

“Sculpture of Man” doesn’t waste time. It’s the shortest Manics original they’ve released, finishing up in under two minutes. None of that brisk running length is spent idly. It’s a superconcentrated shot of The Holy Bible, all vitriolic energy and furious nihilism running at hundred miles per hour. James needs an award of some sort for the sheer speed he runs through the stream-of-consciousness urban horror lyric anecdotes (Princess Diana, Sega the video game developer, war as commodity, news cycle as entertainment, the British Museum… they and many more all get their turn in line). This is Manics at their most punk, quite literally.

It’s such an overwhelming assault that it’s actually comedic. It’s absurd, surreal: the lyrics, the delivery, the pure intensity and speed of the band, it’s all pushed out with such force that the song is little more than two minutes of pure volume and noise assaulting any unsuspected listener. You can’t take it seriously. That diminishes none of its power – it is still a fierce force of nature and quite possibly the most relentless song of the entire period. All of the album’s finesse is thrown away for the sake of sheer brutal force and you can’t help but laugh and admire as you get knocked over.

An experience, really. By and far the best b-side of the period.

[edited 15/03/2022]

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Too Cold Here

Sometimes the mind is the smallest prison of all

The b-sides for The Holy Bible were very limited in nature – the album took such a creative toll that very little was put aside, and the tumultuous months afterwards weren’t exactly fertile ground for additional recording sessions. But b-sides had to be recorded and “Too Cold Here” – and its counterpart “Love Torn Us Under” – sounds and feels like James going to the studio by himself to work with what energy, focus and lyrical material he had left by that point. It’s a solemn acoustic song, a far cry from anything on the actual record. Just one man working away.

“Too Cold Here” is one of the more harrowing songs in the period because it’s one of the small handful that are openly vulnerable and honest. It’s a testimony of Richey’s – the perpetual sink into depression described in words. It’s uncompromised about his helplessness and inability to lean against his friends (which must’ve been hard for James to read, much less sing), confessing his coping sings from one night stands to alcoholism. In the end, there’s… nothing. Just one man trapped inside his own mind with no lock and key in sight.

The sparseness of the arrangement gives space to the words and James sounds genuinely saddened here. Between the emotionally distant verses and the faint cry of the chorus lies the tender and wounded bridge, where James lets out the most resonant melody of the entire song. It’s the track’s highlight.

There are better James solo pieces in the Manics back catalogue from a songwriting perspective, but this is one of the most poignant.

[edited 15/03/2022]

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