Keith Cameron: 168 Songs of Hatred and Failure
Redditch Library | 11th April ‘26
Hosted in an anonymous, red brick, municipal building – Redditch Library! – the spoken-word event was made all the more memorable as a consequence, proving one should never judge a book by its cover.
Coincidently, one of the early Manic Street Preachers CD singles was adorned with Harold Pinter’s quote: “All we have left is the English language. ”Therefore, what a joy to listen to author Keith Cameron articulate with passion, modesty, insight and an impressive command of the English language, the background to writing the musical biography: “168 Songs of Hatred and Failure by the Manic Street Preachers.
Speaking so fluently and deliberately the studious Keith Cameron was entrancing as the book’s back-story was explored. The free flowing, orally-delivered sentences a clear indication of the author’s joy of language and communication. To be able to speak at length with such clarity is a hard won skill. Moreover, it was no surprise to learn the author has written for Sounds, the NME and MOJO magazine. We were in good company…
The book was written with the full cooperation of the band – minus Sean Moore, of course – and the book clearly benefited from James Dean Bradfield’s & Nicky Wire’s input. As Cameron decreed… “me wanging on at length with opinion after opinion -it would have been too much.” The writer was not afraid to use every-day argot to prove his point.
Pointedly, Keith Cameron’s understated passion for his subject was as obvious as James Dean Bradfield’s voice. His ability to remember dates and details highlighted his belief in the band and their art. The passion he spoke with about the Glastonbury Gig in ’94, the DNA of “Motorcycle Emptiness,” and meeting the band for the first time was palpable.
The band is notoriously private and Cameron’s insight into meeting Bradfield & Wire – on numerous occasions – heightened the attentive audience’s curiosity. From the awkwardness of Ritchie Edwards inherent shyness, to the first taxi ride where they bonded over the Skids and a mutual appreciation of cricket and the confession the band owned Recording Studio, just outside Newport, was their “clubhouse, Youth club, place of work,” “where they clocked on” enthralled all in the room. Bradfield’s constant worry that Wire would be content to walk away from the band was a moment to digest, slowly.
The afternoon was laced with humour throughout the near-two hour session. Tempered with tragedy too as we discovered Wire trashed the door of Moore’s new Porsche against a column outside Woolworth’s in Monmouth all those years ago.
Did this make it feel as if we were any closer to the band I wonder?
Not sure in essence, however, the 90 minutes of words of love and affection for the Manics proved once again that libraries can give power. What a powerful conduit the spoken-word is when fused with erudition.
By: The Swilgate Scuttler